Drabble meme responses
Mar. 25th, 2011 06:40 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
I have never been nearly this late with drabble meme responses before!! *shamed* But it's happening :)
Title: Firepower
Word count: 300
Characters/pairings: Doctor, Donna, dragon (it is gen except for implied Captain Jack)
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Donna and the Doctor are on the top of an office building, and there is a dragon. Bloody ridiculous.
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: The boys and girls belong to Auntie Beeb, even though I’m often much nicer to them than she is.
Author’s Notes: This was written for
daiseechain, who requested the Doctor and Donna deal with a dragon running amok. Place and time of your choosing.
“Doctor!” Donna bellowed, and threw. He turned just in time to catch the large gun with fiddly bits she chucked at him. He then threw a switch without stopping to ask what it was, dozy dingbat, and nearly scorched off those impressively mobile eyebrows.
Donna backed away and nearly fell off the roof. There should be a rule about how many potentially-fatal Circumstances happened to you at once.
“Where’d you get a flamethrower?” he called.
“The office!” Donna was mistress of offices, even ones where people kept flamethrowers to deal with rampaging dragons, and knew where to find emergency supplies.
“You know, there’s this saying about fighting fire with fire – ”
“DRAGON!”
The Doctor spun and turned the flamethrower up high. Donna was eight feet away but she still felt the heat. The flame shot out, bright and instant and eating up the air; the dragon gave another deafening squawk and banked, flying away.
It wasn’t gone, though: it was flying in an immense circle, and it was likely to be irritated now. Or possibly it had taken the Doctor’s display of firepower as some kind of mating ritual and was going to attempt interspecies sex, even though dragon cunnilingus would involve a tongue with the toughness of car tire.
Donna shouted most of this at the Doctor, because shouting about the Doctor’s foolishness made her feel better in the face of certain death.
The Doctor made a funny face. He did this quite often, of course, but this one was a variety of I’ve Got It! which Donna hadn’t seen before. It made her wary.
“What?” she demanded.
“Well. Dragons, you know, fiery. Full of passion. It might work to tempt it away from the populated areas.”
“I AM NOT - ”
“Not you!” the Doctor said quickly. “I’ve got this friend...”
Title: Proxy
Word count: 200
Characters/pairings: Angel/Spike (references to Buffy/Spike and Buffy/Angel)
Rating: R
Summary: “After Buffy’s funeral, Angel followed Spike back to his crypt without asking.”
Warnings: angst, canon character death
Disclaimer: The boys and girls belong to JKR, even though I’m often much nicer to them than she is.
Author’s Notes: This was written for
koishii_hime, who requested Angel/Spike... ANYTHING?
After Buffy’s funeral, Angel followed Spike back to his crypt without asking. It was a mercy that her funeral was held after dark, but neither of them could go back to the Summers home with the Scoobies.
Besides, they needed something else. Angel knew Spike could smell his desire.
Angel wanted someone blond and tough and small and funny, who makes pop-culture jokes and loves fighting bare-handed. Someone immortal.
Spike downed whiskey before they fucked: hard as ever, game-faced, while Spike cried. Afterwards they curled up together like it was a century earlier, when neither vampire loved any fragile human.
~*~
Angel didn’t wait for an invitation. Tosser. There might not be metaphysical rules keeping him out of Spike’s home, but there were manners!
Angel looked around Spike’s crypt, and his nose wrinkled. Spike washed away the taste of humiliation with whiskey, disgusted: why even now, did he want his sire to approve?
It only took a flicker of eye-contact before Angel slammed him against the wall. It was bliss: familiar oblivion, the smell of Angel, his fangs in Spike’s neck. A preternaturally strong champion Spike loved, who’d changed the course of his life.
Who couldn’t die because of Spike’s failure.
Title: Firepower
Word count: 300
Characters/pairings: Doctor, Donna, dragon (it is gen except for implied Captain Jack)
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Donna and the Doctor are on the top of an office building, and there is a dragon. Bloody ridiculous.
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: The boys and girls belong to Auntie Beeb, even though I’m often much nicer to them than she is.
Author’s Notes: This was written for
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
“Doctor!” Donna bellowed, and threw. He turned just in time to catch the large gun with fiddly bits she chucked at him. He then threw a switch without stopping to ask what it was, dozy dingbat, and nearly scorched off those impressively mobile eyebrows.
Donna backed away and nearly fell off the roof. There should be a rule about how many potentially-fatal Circumstances happened to you at once.
“Where’d you get a flamethrower?” he called.
“The office!” Donna was mistress of offices, even ones where people kept flamethrowers to deal with rampaging dragons, and knew where to find emergency supplies.
“You know, there’s this saying about fighting fire with fire – ”
“DRAGON!”
The Doctor spun and turned the flamethrower up high. Donna was eight feet away but she still felt the heat. The flame shot out, bright and instant and eating up the air; the dragon gave another deafening squawk and banked, flying away.
It wasn’t gone, though: it was flying in an immense circle, and it was likely to be irritated now. Or possibly it had taken the Doctor’s display of firepower as some kind of mating ritual and was going to attempt interspecies sex, even though dragon cunnilingus would involve a tongue with the toughness of car tire.
Donna shouted most of this at the Doctor, because shouting about the Doctor’s foolishness made her feel better in the face of certain death.
The Doctor made a funny face. He did this quite often, of course, but this one was a variety of I’ve Got It! which Donna hadn’t seen before. It made her wary.
“What?” she demanded.
“Well. Dragons, you know, fiery. Full of passion. It might work to tempt it away from the populated areas.”
“I AM NOT - ”
“Not you!” the Doctor said quickly. “I’ve got this friend...”
Title: Proxy
Word count: 200
Characters/pairings: Angel/Spike (references to Buffy/Spike and Buffy/Angel)
Rating: R
Summary: “After Buffy’s funeral, Angel followed Spike back to his crypt without asking.”
Warnings: angst, canon character death
Disclaimer: The boys and girls belong to JKR, even though I’m often much nicer to them than she is.
Author’s Notes: This was written for
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
After Buffy’s funeral, Angel followed Spike back to his crypt without asking. It was a mercy that her funeral was held after dark, but neither of them could go back to the Summers home with the Scoobies.
Besides, they needed something else. Angel knew Spike could smell his desire.
Angel wanted someone blond and tough and small and funny, who makes pop-culture jokes and loves fighting bare-handed. Someone immortal.
Spike downed whiskey before they fucked: hard as ever, game-faced, while Spike cried. Afterwards they curled up together like it was a century earlier, when neither vampire loved any fragile human.
Angel didn’t wait for an invitation. Tosser. There might not be metaphysical rules keeping him out of Spike’s home, but there were manners!
Angel looked around Spike’s crypt, and his nose wrinkled. Spike washed away the taste of humiliation with whiskey, disgusted: why even now, did he want his sire to approve?
It only took a flicker of eye-contact before Angel slammed him against the wall. It was bliss: familiar oblivion, the smell of Angel, his fangs in Spike’s neck. A preternaturally strong champion Spike loved, who’d changed the course of his life.
Who couldn’t die because of Spike’s failure.