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Your word for the week!
Don't look at the word until you are ready to write. When your fifteen minutes are up and you have completed your ficlet, you may either post it as a response here, or post a link to the ficlet in your own journal. If posting on your own journal, please hide the prompt word in some way (ie. under an LJ-cut) in order to avoid spoiling it for others.
Today's word is: raining
You can copy and paste this code when posting your ficlet if desired.
Don't look at the word until you are ready to write. When your fifteen minutes are up and you have completed your ficlet, you may either post it as a response here, or post a link to the ficlet in your own journal. If posting on your own journal, please hide the prompt word in some way (ie. under an LJ-cut) in order to avoid spoiling it for others.
Today's word is: raining
You can copy and paste this code when posting your ficlet if desired.
no subject
on 2008-11-18 02:55 am (UTC)Fandom: Doctor Who
Characters: Ten, Donna
Rating: G
Word count: 561
no subject
on 2008-11-18 11:52 pm (UTC)Fandom/original: Star Trek: Voyager
Characters: Chakotay
Rating: G
Word count: 315
Chakotay stretched on his bed, eyes closed, and listened to nothing. He took a deep breath and let it out. Naturally, his respirations weren’t silent and if he concentrated, he could hear his heart beat, or maybe he just felt it, pulsing regularly inside his chest. He thought about telling the computer to play some music, but that wasn’t what he wanted. Restlessly, he turned over. Another sound, this time of his body on the cotton bedding. He rubbed his legs back and forward several times, listening to the swish, but that wasn’t satisfying either.
He recognized his fit of the doldrums for what it was; he wanted to hear the sounds of his home. Wind rustling through the trees, birds calling, rain on the roof. Not a whole storm, just the steady sound of rain. That was what he missed most, trapped on this starship on the other side of the galaxy. Pure and simple rain. Even back in the alpha quadrant there had been no time to listen and enjoy - running, hiding, fighting, planning, always on the alert. He missed the build up to a cloudburst, when the weather was hot and dry, and the air crackled. There was the feeling of tension, of anticipation, especially when it hadn’t rained for a while. Being out in the rain had been fun as a child, but it held much less attraction for him as his middle years approached. He didn’t enjoy walking in the rain, with or without a lover. He’d rather be inside, watching the water sheet down the glass if the squall was heavy, or tracing the separate drops of a light spring shower, or lying at night and simply listening. Then when the rain stopped, the sky was clear, everything smelt fresh, he felt like he could see for miles and he felt at peace inside. Yes, he missed the rain.
no subject
on 2008-11-21 02:32 am (UTC)Fandom/original: Naruto
Characters: Tenten, Neji, Lee
Rating: G
Word count: 391
Between Friends
on 2008-11-22 01:22 am (UTC)Fandom/original: Original
Characters: Original, Haiti + Lindsay
Rating: PG
Word count: 675
‘It’s raining.’
‘So?’ Haiti grinned, looking over her shoulder at her friend. ‘It feels really, really, really good,’ she said teasingly, looking down from the gentle curve of her friend’s breasts to the trim cut of her waist. The rain had plastered Lin’s shirt to her skin, darkening the color until it wasn’t really beige anymore.
Haiti looked back up quickly, innocently. ‘And the rain always makes everything look so pretty!’ she said, looking away from familiar green eyes mountains in the distance, then back. ‘Don’t you think?’
‘Yes,’ Lindsay said, a sweet smile turning the corners of her lips, green eyes bright. ‘Sneezing and buckets full of snot are the new vogue, wouldn’t you say?’
Haiti huffed indignantly. ‘Hey! I do not drip buckets full of snot!’ she said, wrinkling her nose at the image. Ew. ‘And I was trying to be flirty. You could’ve at least, y’know, tried to be flattered. Or something.’
Lin rolled her eyes. ‘Not when I can feel mud in my socks.’
Haiti looked down at her friend’s feet quickly. Lin was wearing a pair of black and purple sneakers, sans socks. They were almost completely covered in mud. ‘Oops. Um. You could’ve sent a text?’ she said, looking back up sheepishly.
Lindsay raised an eyebrow. ‘To what?’
‘My phone?’ Haiti said uncertainly.
‘You mean this?’
Haiti stared at the tiny red and silver cell that Lin was holding and snickered. ‘Yeah. About that.’ She grinned brightly. ‘See, I knew I had it somewhere. Just, apparently, not on me. And why couldn’t you have texted me anyway?’
‘It’s raining.’
‘I know.’ It had been raining a long time before she’d been out.
‘And you didn’t have your phone with you.’
‘Nope,’ Haiti said. She knew that, too. She was the one who’d left it behind.
Slowly, as if something was physically dragging her back, Lin walked over to the swing. ‘I didn’t want you to get sick,’ she said.
‘Why not?’ Haiti asked quietly, staring up at the face she’d grown to memorize in the past several years she’d seen it. The features were too severe, the eyes bracketed with too many crow’s feet, the mouth thinned to disapproving lines more often than not—and when upset, those ugly, bushy eyebrows Lindsay wouldn’t let her near would pinch together, exactly like now.
‘I thought you didn’t care about the happy little valley-girl who didn’t know enough about the world to even care about some small, relatively insignificant part of it getting nuked?’ Haiti said, reaching up to poke an eyebrow petulantly. Why did she have to fall in love with a woman like Lindsay Fielding anyway?
‘I—didn’t mean it,’ Lin said hesitantly.
‘The rain’s still nice,’ Haiti said, turning away abruptly to catch a handful of the water that had collected in the curved seat of the swing. She hated Moments. Lindsay might be good at them, what with being brooding and philosophical and serious, but she wasn’t. ‘And we still have enough Nyquil, y’know? So it’s okay.’
She wasn’t sure what, exactly, would be okay.
And if it wasn’t her health, then she didn’t really know who she was convincing.
After all, she was the one who’d run outside in the middle of the storm after they more or less blew up in each other’s faces. Haiti stared down at the water in her hands, and blew out a breath in annoyance. ‘I didn’t mean it, too,’ she said. ‘You’re not easy that to hate. You risked muddy toes for me!’ She looked back at Lindsay and grinned.
For a moment, something like embarrassment cut through the severity in her friend’s expression. Then the frown was back, except it wasn’t quite the same. ‘Why didn’t you bring your phone?’
‘Because I was mad at you, idiot.’
‘…why are we still out here in the rain, if you’re not mad at me anymore?’
‘Because sometimes you shouldn’t worry about things! Like, um, getting sick. Or, y’know—okay, we can go in now. I think a leaf just flew into my mouth.’
no subject
on 2008-11-22 08:13 am (UTC)Fandom/original: Fullmetal Alchemist
Characters:Jean Havoc and Roy Mustang
Rating: PG
Word count: 559
It was raining when everything became all right again.
Jean Havoc was beside the counter, where he could reach the telephone. His smoking paraphernalia was arranges on his armrests, and there was a small leather grouch bag in his lap that contained various bills and coins for making change. His wheelchair didn’t fit into the small space between the counter and the wall, and even if it had, he couldn’t reach the big brass cash register. Usually his ma did that, but she was out for the afternoon, and he was on his own. Jean didn’t mind. The familiar feeling of the small store he’d spent so much of his early life in kept any loneliness or depression that the pounding rain might’ve brought on at bay.
He had smoked a cigarette about halfway down (‘to the good part,’ as he and Heymans had said back in the day) when the small bell on the front door jingled, announcing a customer. It surprised him a little; the roads out here were all hardpack dirt that turned to impassible mud in hard rain. He hadn’t had a customer since the storm had really begun to pick up around two, and hadn’t expected another, at least not until things began to dry out again and people could drop by on foot.
“Hello, need any help?” Jean called up. The layout of the store and the tall counter often hid him from view at first glance, and he preferred not to let himself be overlooked.
There was a thump of boots against the whicker mat by the door, thick dripping sounds as mud and water sloughed off and pattered to the floor, then quick, heavy footsteps made their way around the shelves of rope and hardware, the barrels of pickles and the bolts of patterned calico and stark muslin, until they faced Havoc’s little nook.
The smoke he’d inhaled seemed to catch in his throat.
“Is this where I come to settle my bill?” Roy Mustang said. “I’ve always hated to be in debt.”
The wooden spokes of the chair’s wheels creaked as Roy knelt over his lap. Jean’s shirt and the blanket he kept over his thighs to hide how diminished they looked grew cold and wet as the rain dripped off Roy’s coat and hair. The cigarette was plucked from his lips. He didn’t care.
They’d had tens of thousand of kisses over the years, and had hundreds of thousands more afterward, but ever afterward it was these that Jean remembered best and most fondly. The memory always seemed as crisp and clear as the air after a storm, even years later; the soft, wet sounds of lips on lips merging with the patter of rain on the windows, the sweet smell of dried corn and old cedar boards mixing with those of wet wool and skin, the unfamiliar scratch of beard against the smooth, pale chin, the feeling of old aches being finally soothed… all as vivid as if they were happening over and over again.
“I think you’re all paid up,” Jean murmured when they paused for air. He pressed his face into Roy’s neck. The water there had warmed, and felt like tears against Jean’s cheek.
“Then consider all the rest a personal favor from a grateful patron,” Roy whispered, and curled his arms around Jean’s chest.
no subject
on 2009-02-02 04:03 am (UTC)Fandom/original: Fandom - the GazettE
Characters: Ruki/Uruha
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 387
“Suffer forever with me.”
no subject
on 2012-12-30 09:12 pm (UTC)