Prompt a thon round ups pt 3.
Sep. 21st, 2010 01:46 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
samsomEverything in life has a positive and a negative. The negative on this day is the mother of all gastro-intestinal shitstorms (yes, I went there). The positive? I can round up the latest two of my drabbles between cramps. \0/
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anythingbutgrey's Doomed Ships Prompt-a-Thon. 57 pages of prompts and fic, and still going strong. http://anythingbutgrey.livejournal.com/760101.html.
And onward!
This is foranythingbutgrey's prompt, Cordelia/Angel, sometimes i am so in love with you like a little clock that trembles on the edge of the hour only ever calling out "cuck-oo, hoo-oo, hoo-oo"
He's been in love before.
Not that long ago, in fact.
She had been bright and shining, full day and hope and other, prettier, words spouted by doe-eyed poets.
But this
feeling
this shock
is like that whisper of midnight right before the clock strikes and everything stops. That hush of silence beyond a fire-warmed door.
It's her walking and his mind slows it down, way down, until every strand of her hair winds and sweeps, down her shoulder, across her mouth. Everything goes dark except for her presence, her aliveness.
Angel can only watch, struck dumb with love as Cordelia comes through the door and brings that charge with her that feels like a heartbeat. Like life.
He trembles, on that edge, right before the fall.
Every night he falls.
Foranythingbutgrey's prompt of Angel/Cordelia, I stumbled at the door with my boot, And I knocked against the jamb, And I scrabbled at your chest like a mute, With my fists of ham, Trying to tell you that I am, Telling you I can, I can love you again, Love you again.
He leaves her little things. A mug of tea or a favorite magazine, so hot off the presses it's still smoking.
But she won't be bribed.
They stay where he puts them, untouched.
Unacknowledged.
He can feel Gunn and Wes' censure. They want him to leave her alone, let her find her own way to giving him another chance.
They don't understand, they can't. It's like being back in another stinking,anonymous alley as the world passes him by. He feels his nose pressing against the glass as he begs to be let back in.
But the door never opens.
Days go by and all he sees is her back, her silence. Her lips pressed together in anger.
At him.
Wes and Gunn don't understand.
He's back with the team.
But he's still not home.
~end~
Would it be really horrible if I filled in my own prompt? There's one I did....I really like it. I think I will.
These are from
anythingbutgrey's Doomed Ships Prompt-a-Thon. 57 pages of prompts and fic, and still going strong. http://anythingbutgrey.livejournal.com/760101.html.And onward!
This is for
anythingbutgrey's prompt, Cordelia/Angel, sometimes i am so in love with you like a little clock that trembles on the edge of the hour only ever calling out "cuck-oo, hoo-oo, hoo-oo"He's been in love before.
Not that long ago, in fact.
She had been bright and shining, full day and hope and other, prettier, words spouted by doe-eyed poets.
But this
feeling
this shock
is like that whisper of midnight right before the clock strikes and everything stops. That hush of silence beyond a fire-warmed door.
It's her walking and his mind slows it down, way down, until every strand of her hair winds and sweeps, down her shoulder, across her mouth. Everything goes dark except for her presence, her aliveness.
Angel can only watch, struck dumb with love as Cordelia comes through the door and brings that charge with her that feels like a heartbeat. Like life.
He trembles, on that edge, right before the fall.
Every night he falls.
For
anythingbutgrey's prompt of Angel/Cordelia, I stumbled at the door with my boot, And I knocked against the jamb, And I scrabbled at your chest like a mute, With my fists of ham, Trying to tell you that I am, Telling you I can, I can love you again, Love you again.He leaves her little things. A mug of tea or a favorite magazine, so hot off the presses it's still smoking.
But she won't be bribed.
They stay where he puts them, untouched.
Unacknowledged.
He can feel Gunn and Wes' censure. They want him to leave her alone, let her find her own way to giving him another chance.
They don't understand, they can't. It's like being back in another stinking,anonymous alley as the world passes him by. He feels his nose pressing against the glass as he begs to be let back in.
But the door never opens.
Days go by and all he sees is her back, her silence. Her lips pressed together in anger.
At him.
Wes and Gunn don't understand.
He's back with the team.
But he's still not home.
~end~
Would it be really horrible if I filled in my own prompt? There's one I did....I really like it. I think I will.
