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Assorted Drabbles and Ficlets From Minor Fandoms

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Distant Thunder Like Laughter (The Little Mermaid, drabble-shaped thing, PG-aught)

Title: Distant Thunder Like Laughter
Fandom: Disney's The Little Mermaid
Characters: Ursula / Ariel / Eric
Rating: PG-something
Written for: [info]hyel's prompt to my threesome drabble prompt request, and [info]drabble_a_trois's Challenge #20, "Destroy".
Disclaimer: I'm not Disney nor Hans Christian Andersen, so nothing here is mine but the arrangement of the words.


Ursula laughs sometimes in the darkness where none can hear. The little mermaid and her prince think Ursula vanquished, but all they've done is merely killed her; she can still work subtle magics without fingers or voice, without the encumbrances of flesh.

Of nights a mist seeps beneath the doors of Palace bedchambers while Prince and Princess clutch each other in fierce lovemaking; he presses his thumbs to the pulse in her delicate throat, she nips him with her mermaid's sharp teeth. Each night Ursula joins them, blanking their eyes and whipping up storms in their blood, riding them both as they thrash and roll together between the sheets. Each morning she laughs as she listens to them wake dizzy and dazed, the exclamations and kisses over shared bruises before they wander dully off into the day. One night she'll have them wilder than ever, and in the morning the Prince will wake to a clay-cold bride or Ariel in a bed drenched with blood, and that will be Ursula's greatest laugh of all.

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Current mood:
Entry tags:
star trek*kirk, star trek*pollen, star trek*tentacles, star trek*universe

Observations (Star Trek drabble.25, PG-13)

I've fallen in love with Star Trek XI. Henceforth, a drabble-shaped
thing while I work on some actual stories.

Title: Observations
Fandom: Star Trek XI (the 2009 movie)
Characters: Two observant nonhumans; Captain Kirk mentioned.
Rating: PG-13 for naughty words, himpi, and other discussion of sex.
Disclaimer: Star Trek doesn't belong to me.

"I love humans", said Xiriree, rippling happy green diagonals over anticipatory yellow.

"Expletives, yes." Hadhlahla emphatically flared his upper tentacles. "They're so entertaining."

"Such lively sluts." Xiriree took another slurp of steamed-drink. "All you have to do is tell them that it's the custom, or this tea or that smoke or the purple flower over there is aphrodisiacal, or just lock them in a room for 100,000 seconds or so, and they start fucking like himpi."

"More gracefully, though." Hadhlahla's lower tentacles waggled enthusiastically. "Much more fun to watch rutting than himpi."

"True that." Finishing her drink, Xiriree fluttered up. "What shall we try today?"

"The flowers are always classic," said Hadhlahla. They both rippled vigorously, streaky red with laughter as they left to greet Captain Kirk and his envoys.

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Current mood:
Entry tags:
numb3rs:au, numb3rs:charlie, star trek*chekov

Autograph (NUMB3RS/Star Trek XI Crossover Drabble, PG)

Title: Autograph
Fandom: Numb3rs / Star Trek XI
Rating: PG
Characters: Professor Eppes & Ensign Chekov
Warnings/Spoilers: General 4th season developments.
All Thanks To: [info]lomedet, of course. :)
Disclaimer: None of these characters or their settings belong to me.

"Professor Ep-pes?" Charlie hears behind him, in a light tenor voice with a Russian accent. He turns to see a lanky teenage boy who's vibrating with excitement and extremely adorable. Curly hair, big eager eyes, forehead earnestly furrowed -- Charlie wonders if he ever looked that damn cute back when he was a child prodigy. Probably, he thinks with equal parts sympathy and envy, and nods in greeting.

"Please sir, sign this? I would be honored." Anticipating another copy of The Attraction Equation, Charlie grits his teeth in a frozen smile until he actually sees what the boy is brandishing -- a copy of the American Journal of Mathematics. He recognizes that cover, too. It's the issue with his first paper.

As the boy watches Charlie's expression thaw, his smile goes from eager to floodlight-bright. "Chekov," he says, pressing pen and journal into Charlie's hands. "Pavel Andreievich Chekov. I would be truly honored."

"A fellow mathematician?" The boy nods vigorously, so Charlie begins with that dedication. "Here you go, Mr. Chekov."

Chekov keeps nodding, big eyes shining. "Thank you, Professor! I have read all your work I can find. Truly revolutionary. Your monograph on Emergence of Cognition was most impressive."

Cognitive Emergence? Charlie hasn't completed anything publishable on that, at least not yet... He feels his eyes go round even before young Chekov's widen further to match, huge circles in his suddenly bloodless face.

Chekov spins away, grabbing pen and journal from Charlie's nerveless fingers. Charlie shouts, "Hey, wait!" but the long-legged boy is already gone.

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Current mood:
Entry tags:
star trek*kirk, star trek*spock

Random Kirk&Spock Drabble, rated G (Star Trek XI, as ever)

I wrote this for a nice person over at [info]wrisomifu, fwiw. I don't think I'll bother with headers.

In another universe they were the best of friends, but in this time and place continue struggling to find and follow their path together.

In another universe they were closer than lovers, but in this life have both been chosen by other beloveds.

And yet, when Kirk and Spock glance across the Bridge of their shared Enterprise, eyes of blue fire and cool darkness meet and a goal is shared, regard is exchanged, a still-fragile alliance strengthened, as each thinks, 'perhaps I can work with this man,' and the cease-fire holds for yet another moment during its transition to partnership beyond peace.

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Current mood:

Immunely Diplomatic (Torchwood/DC Comics crossover, PG-13)

Title: Immunely Diplomatic
Fandom: Torchwood/DC Comics crossover
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Jack/Gwen/a mysterious Mr. Wayne
Warnings/Spoilers: Cracklicious
All Thanks To: / Acknowledgements: [info]panda_pooka for the bunny
Author's Notes: For my way-overdue Threesome Holiday Drabbles Project, and also [info]drabble_a_trois prompt #4, Forget
Disclaimer: None of these characters or their settings belong to me.

Gwen thinks they're set until she opens her eyes from the kiss. Wayne's aren't hazed with pleasure or Retcon; they're sharp as ever, wintry blue, his smile nowhere near them as his hand presses the small of her back. "Leaving so soon, pretty lady?"

"I--" she stammers, not knowing what she'll say, but behind her Jack laughs. "I think our friend's immune to our medicine," he says, stepping into the light.

"Everything has an antidote," Wayne replies, his voice gravelly and deep. "My memory is not yours to edit. Thank you for the sample, Harkness. And the kiss."

"My pleasure." Jack motions with his free hand, but Wayne just calmly stares down the gun. "Tell me why I shouldn't shoot you?"

"Because I have no need to reveal your secrets, which my death would. Trust me." Then Gwen is stumbling backwards; Jack catches her, and she looks up to see the room otherwise empty.

"Jack!" she shouts, steadying herself against him; she dashes to the open window, but Wayne's gone. Behind her, all Jack does is laugh and laugh.

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They hardly knew each other before Kirayoshi. They'd lived on the same space station for years, and had been cheerfully friendly as coworkers are, and Keiko had secretly admired Major Kira's fierceness and strength.

Then the runabout accident happened, and when Keiko woke up she wasn't pregnant, because another woman was carrying her baby.

She had to struggle not to try to boss Kira around, not to offer too much advice, not to treat her like a brainless incubator the way some people always seem to treat pregnant women. Kira had survived conditions in occupied Bajor that Keiko knew she couldn't even imagine, so she pressed her mouth shut on everything she wanted to say, as the Major ran around as strenuously as ever, dragging Keiko's unborn baby along with her.

Till the day that Miles was on night duty and Molly was at a sleepover and Kira came to her, sore and grumpy and asking her help.

It started then, with tea and massage for her tense shoulders and aching feet, lotion gently rubbed into her dry hands and her tautening stomach, Keiko pausing and Kira gasping when the baby kicked, and both of them smiling at each other. With soft tissues for her sneezing and jokes and comfortable sleeping positions, and Kira asking Keiko to call her Nerys.

And Keiko nodding, and saying, "All right, Nerys."

It became a weekly evening, as Keiko learned how to make hasparat and Nerys learned her favorite lullabies and they did stretches together and traded quips about Julian and Miles. As Keiko talked about how isolated she felt on the station, and Nerys talked about how she'd sworn off babies and love and domesticity when she decided at ten to fight the Cardassians, how strange it felt to be pregnant now. As Keiko held Nerys when she cried, and Nerys pressed her wet soft cheek to Keiko's, and kissed her.

That's how it started.

The first time Keiko brought Kirayoshi to see Nerys, while she was still recovering from the birth, Nerys held him like he might explode and looked at Keiko like she was trying to tell herself it was all a dream. So after Miles left to return to duty, Keiko leaned over and kissed her. Because that wasn't how it was going to end.

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Maureen loves her control freak, oh yes she fucking does. Sometimes she could just love Joanne right to death. Since the phone call she's been walking for a half-hour through the wet city streets, under dripping trees tufted with pink and red and golden green. The birds are chirping, the cars are honking, the flowers are thrusting green buds into the air; even the trees are fucking, but Maureen isn't allowed to while Joanne's out of town.

She glances up and, finding herself a couple blocks from Mark and Roger's, decides to drop in. Maybe she can find Mark there, and climb on shit and torment him. He's so cute when he gets all red in the face and flustered. "Hey!" Maureen shouts, running up the stairs. "Anyone home?"

"Just me!" Mimi calls down to her, opening the door. Mimi's dressed in little lacy things, and looks like springtime and sex. She smiles at Maureen but frowns at the walls, and she's obviously been pacing; watching her Maureen grins and bites her cheek. "Argh. Wanna go somewhere?"

And share Mimi with the world? The way she stalks around the furniture, if she had a tail it'd be lashing. Maureen drops onto a couch and breathes like she just ran the marathon. "Sure, but gimme a minute. I've been running around today."

"Heh. And I've been cooped up." Mimi climbs up the side of the couch, sitting on the back by Maureen's head. "I'm waiting for phone calls--- I applied to a bunch of jobs. Office jobs," she specifies, with obvious distaste.

"You don't look like the office job type." She doesn't. Especially not in her satin and lace.

Mimi smiles down gratefully, and from here her legs are really long. "Thanks. I... I need a job, 'cause Roger doesn't want me dancing anymore. But I'm so bored, waiting for anyone to call back. And I miss dancing. I wanna move!" She throws her arms up, wiggling her butt.

"Dance for me, then." Maureen grins up, and Mimi blinks. She's ready to pull out at least a few persuasive tricks, but Mimi grins, and flips down off the couch. She stands in the middle of the floor for a mment, feet planted, arms out, and Maureen holds her breath; then Mimi starts to gyrate her hips, slowly, then faster and faster, and then she starts to dance.

God, does Mimi dance. She wiggles to a beat Maureen could swear she can hear, even though there's no music playing; she kicks up high and tosses her hair back as she stomps and spins and flips over a chair. Maureen claps time as Mimi whirls around a column like it's a pole, then grinds against it like it's a partner, head thrown back, eyes closed and mouth open in a grin. She's so hot, and Maureen's face is warming up, and she's totally getting wet as Mimi hitches a knee around the column and slides to the floor, rolling over and crawling. No, not crawling, pacing like a panther, as she crosses the floor, grinning ferally, and pulls herself up into Maureen's lap.

She's warm with exertion, kinda glowing, as she loops her arms round Maureen's neck, bouncing on Maureen's thighs, her heels on the sofa either side. Maureen ought to say something, but she can't even talk, as she settles her hands on Mimi's waist and Mimi thrashes in her lap, rhythmic waves up her flexing spine as she spins her hair around, lashing Maureen's face. Maureen laughs, and grabs Mimi's hair, pulling her head back, and Mimi laughs and winds to a stop, looking at her, eyes shining.

And kisses her. Honest, Maureen didn't kiss her first, though she does kiss back, and Mimi's mouth tastes spicy-sweet and delicious.

Then Mimi backs off, and Maureen lets her go. "Whew," Mimi says, climbing to her feet, patting herself down like she's putting everything back in place. "That was fun." She smiles, not quite at Maureen. " Thanks for asking me."

"Hey, thanks for dancing for me!" Maureen grins at her. This was awesome. "And you're welcome."

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Alys comes to with a buzzing head, curled up against something wooden, narrow and perhaps as wide as one leg. Her hands are folded in her lap, her ankles are crossed, but she can feel open air to either side of her, below and behind. It takes a great deal of will not to startle, but at least she doesn't fall.

There's tremendous noise below her, and her left temple aches, and Miles is somewhere nearby arguing with his off-worlder lady friend. An entirely unsuitable match, Alys would have said once, of the slender woman with the mannish jaw and greying brown hair, but she's amusingly scandalous in her tight pants and she makes Cordelia smile, and Alys would once have called Cordelia unsuitable too.

As the buzzing in her ears subsides Alys can make out shouts and screams and the high-pitched sounds of some kind of energy weapons. The Nexus Fair South Exhibit hall has high ceilings; they must be in the rafters somewhere. Alys doesn't actually want to see how ridiculously high up they are, and now she make out words. "---aunt!" The girl's whispering urgently. "I can't be responsible for her---"

"I well understand," Miles hisses, "the importance of civilians." More charmingly, "Especially my aunt Alys. Which is why I know she'll be safe with you, Bell."

"While you go down there and--- what?" Bell snorts, sounding exasperated. She must know Miles well. "Walk up to those idiots --- and I have to say, on my planet we conduct political protests a little differently--- and ask them to stop shooting up the place?"

"Something like that." Alys can just picture Miles's smile, the one that always makes her son Ivan cringe. She'd better say something before he gets himself killed.

But when Alys opens her eyes her head throbs severely, sparks of pain clouding her eyes; when her vision clears Miles is gone, and Bell, crouched beside Alys, is sighing and shaking her head.

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"Yes, Leo?" Silver's wrapped around Leo's chest, all four of her hands sleepily tracing his ribs. Every time his eyes drift closed he almost feels like two women are petting him, and the image makes his eyes pop open.

"I, uh..." Leo Graf, he scolds himself mentally, you have to say this. Silver is a gifted, brilliant leader, and a girl half his age, and for both those reasons he needs to ask this. "I was thinking about babies."

"Babies?" Silver murmurs drowsily, shifting a little on his hip, her skin soft and damp along his side. "What about--- oh! Oh! But---" She lifts her head, and her hair's getting long; it waves around her face, a few drops of sweat glinting at the ends. She's so beautiful, especially when she smiles. "Leo. I didn't think you were the 'marryin' kind.'"

"You've been at the vids again, haven't you?" He can't help laughing as she grins, till he remembers what he was thinking of. "But... Silver, if you'll have me, I... but I don't want to... you should have babies. I don't want to keep you from having babies, and I don't think even Dr. Minichenko---"

Leo stops babbling when Silver shrugs, making her hair bounce. And smiles, and gives him a warm, lingering kiss. "You've never stopped me from anything, Leo. We'll have beautiful babies together."