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Three drabbles beneath the cut:
Title: None
Fandom: Remington Steele
Rating: G
Characters: Laura Holt
prompt: #018: Mystery
Another body. There were a lot of them about these days, ever since he turned up, all blue eyes and mysterious past. Before, life had been a string of divorces and security jobs. Now it was murders and car chases, gunfire and fists. She was Harriet Vane, chasing clues, unravelling puzzles with lives held in the balance. And yet the biggest mystery, always, was him – or him and her. Them. Was there a them? Should there be? Did she want there to be? And what would she do if he ever disappeared, back into that past from which he'd come?
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Title: Goodbye To All That
Fandom: None. Speculative non-fic? If there is such a thing!
Rating: G
Notes: Somewhere in the world, 66 million years ago.
Characters: Your great-great-great [...] great-grandfather. ;)
prompt: #023: Lacuna
It had a small head. Rat-like, whiskered. The variegated teeth of an omnivore; an unspecialised opportunist. The cold bothered it, and so did the blotted-out sun; the unnatural night that was seemingly without end. Life, however, had to go on. Out there, in the dust-ridden world beyond the burrow, there were corpses by the billion. The starved, the stricken, those charred to ashes by the firestorms. The world had changed, though the small, rat-like creature didn’t know it. It had no concept of the future, of its descendants radiating out into all that empty habitat, and building the world anew.
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Title: None
Fandom: The Tribe
Rating: G
Characters: Bray
prompt: #012: Quote II: "Memories warm you up from the inside. But they also tear you apart." ~ Haruki Murakami
Vegetable soup. He could taste it; taste tomato and lentils, and feel the rough chunks of home-grown beans and zucchini. A recipe his mother had dreamed up, when he had first turned vegetarian. He closed his eyes, trying to remember the smell of the kitchen that day. Bread cooking, his brother's feet, their father's beer freshly poured. Back then he had avoided people, preferring his own company. Now there was only him left, and the memories of before tortured as much as they comforted. He longed for such daydreams to leave him, as fiercely as he hoped they never would.
Title: None
Fandom: Remington Steele
Rating: G
Characters: Laura Holt
prompt: #018: Mystery
Another body. There were a lot of them about these days, ever since he turned up, all blue eyes and mysterious past. Before, life had been a string of divorces and security jobs. Now it was murders and car chases, gunfire and fists. She was Harriet Vane, chasing clues, unravelling puzzles with lives held in the balance. And yet the biggest mystery, always, was him – or him and her. Them. Was there a them? Should there be? Did she want there to be? And what would she do if he ever disappeared, back into that past from which he'd come?
==========
Title: Goodbye To All That
Fandom: None. Speculative non-fic? If there is such a thing!
Rating: G
Notes: Somewhere in the world, 66 million years ago.
Characters: Your great-great-great [...] great-grandfather. ;)
prompt: #023: Lacuna
It had a small head. Rat-like, whiskered. The variegated teeth of an omnivore; an unspecialised opportunist. The cold bothered it, and so did the blotted-out sun; the unnatural night that was seemingly without end. Life, however, had to go on. Out there, in the dust-ridden world beyond the burrow, there were corpses by the billion. The starved, the stricken, those charred to ashes by the firestorms. The world had changed, though the small, rat-like creature didn’t know it. It had no concept of the future, of its descendants radiating out into all that empty habitat, and building the world anew.
==========
Title: None
Fandom: The Tribe
Rating: G
Characters: Bray
prompt: #012: Quote II: "Memories warm you up from the inside. But they also tear you apart." ~ Haruki Murakami
Vegetable soup. He could taste it; taste tomato and lentils, and feel the rough chunks of home-grown beans and zucchini. A recipe his mother had dreamed up, when he had first turned vegetarian. He closed his eyes, trying to remember the smell of the kitchen that day. Bread cooking, his brother's feet, their father's beer freshly poured. Back then he had avoided people, preferring his own company. Now there was only him left, and the memories of before tortured as much as they comforted. He longed for such daydreams to leave him, as fiercely as he hoped they never would.
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