Snowflake Challenge -- day four

[turps]

Day 4

In your own space, create a fanwork. Make a drabble, a ficlet, a podfic, or an icon, art or meta or a rec list. Arts and crafts. Draft a critical essay about a particular media. Put together a picspam or a fanmix. Write a review of a Broadway show, a movie, a concert, a poetry reading, a museum trip, a you-should-be-listening-to-this-band essay. Compose some limericks, haikus, free-form poetry, 5-word stories. Document a particular bit of real person canon. Take some pictures. Draw a stick-figure comic. Create something. Leave a comment in this post saying you did it. Include a link to your post if you feel comfortable doing so.

Well, I don't think the stick art that I created with sperrywink can ever be topped, so I thought I'd go for an informal three sentence personal challenge.

Therefore, give me a pairing -- slash, gen, het, I'm fine with any -- and a prompt and I'll attempt a three sentence mini ficlet in response. Any of my fandoms are fair game.

I'm about to head out for a while, so if I do get any prompts I'll get to them asap.

Comments

[glitteryv]

Ray/Mikeyway, coffee-scented kisses

[turps]

Three sentences, who am I kidding?

"I'm just saying, those things are a crime against coffee," Mikey says, scowling as he pushes the boxes of tiny gingerbread men and candy canes toward the back of the counter, "It's bad enough during the year, but this...."

"They're popular, people look forward to them every year," Ray says, bobbing his head so the bell on the Santa hat he's wearing jingles as he grins and adds, "look how many we've sold today."

"Okay, fine." Mikey shrugs, admitting that with bad grace -- but even so, the festive drinks are a crime against coffee with their added cream and syrups and things that should never be added to coffee, "but..."

"But nothing," Ray interrupts, stepping into Mikey's space so they're pressed together, the small of Mikey's back jammed hard against the counter. "People like them, they're cheerful and some of our best sellers, just embrace the red cups, Mikeyway."

"I could," Mikey says, and he looks up at Ray, at his stupid jingling hat that does nothing to help contain the curls that have escaped from their elastic band hold and his stupid slightly too small elf t-shirt that strains across his shoulders and his stupid smiling, beautiful face that makes Mikey want to smile too, despite the horror of being surrounded by concoctions of festive evilness. "Or I could embrace you."

"Yeah," Ray says, his smile brightening as he wraps his arms around Mikey and holds on, his expression soft as he leans in for a soft coffee-scented kiss.

And in that moment, held tight in Ray's arms, the lights twinkling around them and all customers long gone, Mikey can admit that, maybe festive drinks have their place.

As long as that place isn't anywhere near Mikey's mouth.

[glitteryv]

Awww, this was SO SWEET! I'm legit!kinda flapping my hands with delight.

"They're popular, people look forward to them every year," Ray says, bobbing his head so the bell on the Santa hat he's wearing jingles as he grins and adds, "look how many we've sold today."

STOP BEING SO ADORABLE, RAY (NOOOO, NEVER STOP!)

[wenchpixie]

Awh yes, Ray and Mikey and ADORABLE :D

[sperrywink]

Mikey/Frank: faily spies. :-)

[turps]

I don't even know *hands*

"This is awesome!" Hands on his hips, Frank looks at himself in the mirror, unable to hide his grin as he walks forward, his hoofshoes clattering against the ground. "No one will recognise us in this."

"That's what I thought," Mikey says, twisting so he can see the thin straggly tail that's attached to the back of his pants. "The rule book does say that sometimes it's better to hide in plain sight."

"It does," Frank agrees, taking a moment to hi-five Mikey before pulling on the second part of their costume. Not that it's as easy to wear as the first, it takes a few moments to ensure the correct drape of the material, and even more to get the head positioned and to stay upright as Frank learns how to move with Mikey crouched over and holding onto Frank's waist as they walk.

Still, eventually they manage, ready to follow their mark, who hopefully won't notice the slightly lop-sided and clumsy giraffe that follows behind him.

[glitteryv]

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH! THAT LAST LINE WAS LOLARIOUS!! XD!

[elizabeth_rice]

Lmao! I'm not familiar with the fandom but the prompt itself is pretty funny so I decided to read it. Good work. *\o/*

[prophetic]

HILARIOUS.

[sperrywink]

Hee! That was perfectly faily! Ahahahaha.

Great job, thank you!

[turlough]

*giggles* This is hilarious! A giraffe!

[winterlover]

Haha, if I could draw comics, I'd totally knew how they looked.
(somehow like this: http://tinyurl.com/gnbw8bx)

[wenchpixie]

Oh good LORD. I HURT from laughing, that last line! :D :D

[bunnybeckett]

Mikey/Bob, late morning/early afternoon.

[turps]

One of the things about touring is, you tend to lose all concept of time. Like now, Mikey knows it's daytime, he can tell that by the too-bright beam of sunlight that's cutting through his bunk, but an actual time? Mikey's got no idea.

Eyes half-lidded and vision blurry, he drags his hand over his face and gropes for his glasses, finding them tucked under his pillow. Not that it particularly helps when Mikey puts them on, the world still hazy and outside too bright when he attempts a look out of the tiny window that's supposed to be covered.

Normally Mikey would go back to sleep, but he's thirsty and his head is pounding and he needs to piss -- like now. Kicking at a sweat-damp blanket he clumsily rolls out of his bunk, swaying with the bus as he pushes his way into the tiny bathroom, eyes closed as he empties his bladder of at least five shots and ten bottles of beer. Or was it six shots? Mikey doesn't know, and trying to remember is making his head ache as he heads for the front of the bus, and hopefully coffee, painkillers and silence.

"Hey," Bob looks up from the couch where he's reading. Mikey thinks it's some comic of Gerard's, but he can't actually be sure, not when the world is starting to spin and his stomach filling with acid.

"Hey," Mikey says, cold-sweat beading on his brow as he contemplates the success rate of actually staying upright while waiting for coffee to brew.

"Seriously?" Bob growls, setting down the comic -- book, whatever -- as he stands and urges Mikey close. "Sit down before you fall down."

Mikey would protest, but the truth is, he needs to sit, right now, stumbling over his own feet as he takes Bob's former place. Eyes half closed, Mikey sinks into the warm spot, willing his stomach to settle as he says, "The sun woke me up."

"It does that," Bob says, his socked feet padding against the floor as he gathers painkillers and picks up a mug that's half-filled with warm coffee. "Take these and drink."

Mikey would protest, but really, already he's reaching out, pills dry swallowed as he presses the warm mug against his cheek before taking a long drink. "This was yours."

"It was," Bob says, and sits again, fitting himself next to Mikey, a solid immovable force as the world continues to waver and spin. "Now it's yours."

Mikey rests his head against Bob's shoulder, eyes shut against the sunlight says simply, "Thank you," as the bus travels on.

[bunnybeckett]

This was so beautifully written oh my goSH. Thanks for taking my half-assed (assumed brain dead on my part) prompt and spinning it into gold~ :)

[glitteryv]

Awww, Bob giving Mikeyway some much-needed TLC is ten kinds of adorbs. :)

[teigh_corvus]

Mikey/Bob, bent postcard.

[turps]

Thanks for the prompt. Have something from a sort of AU where Bob gets his wrists fixed and then takes off and hides, worried he's not pulling his weight.

"I said I was okay," Bob says, monotone as he makes his way back to the bed, his bandaged hands held close to his body as he carefully picks his way through the piles of old takeout cartons that almost cover the threadbare beige carpet.

It's a scene that makes Mikey's chest ache, the claustrophobic dark memories of his past pushing close -- but in a motel room not a basement this time, not Gerard, thank fuck not Gerard -- but seeing Bob hurts just as bad.

"I know," Mikey says, and tightens his grip on the postcard he's holding, the one that's become creased and battered, the words memorised days before, I'm okay. You don't need to come. I'll be back when I'm ready, "I know," Mikey says again, and sits on the bed, so close that they're touching, "I came anyway."

[doctor_jasley]

Brendon+Mikey(or / whatever is inspiring)
fantasy/fairytale

[turps]

I have no idea if this even makes sense, but, for you ♥


Brendon sits at the side of the dark lake and listens -- to the whispers of words, to the laughter and cries, pain and relief and joy all jumbled together.

He wants to yell, stop! To push his hands against his ears and block out the sound, but he can't. All he can do is sit here and wait.

Close by another light flickers out on the lake, another of the tiny boats pulled down and sinking, the flames gone in an instant.

Brendon would cry, but his tears are long gone.

Instead he looks over the lake, to the far shore where Mikey is crouched over, casting another flaming wish onto the water. This one is bright, burning with hope and Brendon can hear the whispers of please, please, please let her live.

Mikey drops the wish, letting it float free, joining the countless thousands of others -- and looks up, hands burned and eyes dark with held fears.

All Brendon can do is look back, both trapped in their own nightmares as Brendon mouths please Mikey's hands burning with new flames as he drops to his knees and the sound around them turns into screams.

[turlough]

Gerard/Mikey or Gerard+Mikey, snow and hot chocolate

[turps]

Excellent prompt. Thank you!



"It's hard to believe sometimes," Mikey says, he's sitting on the porch steps, huddled inside of his coat, someone's fake fur scarf wrapped around his neck and a ballcap pulled low on his head. Breath misting with each exhale, he's got his hands pushed deep in his pockets, only the skin of his face exposed to the night air.

Even so he looks cold, and Gerard closes the door behind him, the animated sounds of the extended Way family and friends Christmas gathering abruptly pushed back and muffled.

"Sometimes I never thought we'd get here," Gerard agrees, a giant mug of hot chocolate clutched in his hands as he takes a few steps, careful of the slippery surface as he makes his way toward Mikey. "But here we are."

"Here we are," Mikey repeats, softly, almost under his breath. "We made it."

"We did." Gerard sits, the cold and snow that instantly seep through his pants nothing that matters as he leans against Mikey. "Both of us did."

Mikey smiles, just the slightest turn of his lips, and Gerard's heart aches with all that doesn't need saying.

"Drink this," Gerard offers the mug to Mikey, holding on when Mikey puts his hand over Gerard's, their fingers entwined as Gerard guides the mug to Mikey's lips and he takes a long drink.

"Thank you," Mikey says after, shifting so he can rest his head against Gerard's, taking these moments to just be, together as they sit and watch the snow fall.

[akamine_chan]

Holy shit, Terri, these are all awesome!

*giggles* Also, not three sentences, but whatevs, no one's perfect, though you're pretty close.

My prompt: Gerard/Mikey, longing. (angst is good :))

[turps]

I need to resign myself to the fact I'm incapable of staying to three sentence. Some I can't even claim are close to three sentences!

Thanks for the prompt ♥

Once, Gerard would have said wanting and being unable to have is the worst kind of torment -- but it's not.

It can't be, it's not even close.

"I'll see you next week, okay," Mikey says, and pulls Gerard into a tight hug, holding on with a kiss to the cheek. It's contact that Gerard seeks out, what he craves, what, at times, he needs more than breathing.

All he wants to do is cling on, skin to skin with his brother, cheek to cheek, hands on his back, their bodies almost as one. Like before: when Gerard finally had what he wanted.

When he had what he'd craved for so long. Those long glorious days when he was everything to Mikey, his whole world, his night and day, his reason for living -- but those days are long gone.

At his weakest moments Gerard misses them, and hates that he does. Because missing them means he wants Mikey back how he was, confidence shattered and the weight of the world on his shoulders, tears tracks on his face as he turned to Gerard. Needing to be held, to be comforted, to be protected at all times.

Mikey was fragile then, and Gerard the one who kept him together. So to want that now...

Gerard shouldn't miss it so much. Because he loves his brother like this, when he's happy, healthy and living his life on his own terms. It's just.

It's just. Gerard wants to protect Mikey always. Wants to drift into sleep with Mikey beside him, to wake knowing Mikey is there at his side. But that hasn't happened for a long time. It doesn't need to, because Mikey doesn't need Gerard in the same way. Not now.

"I'm okay, Gee." Mikey presses his mouth against Gerard's a brush of sensation and heat as he says, "I'm okay. I love you."

"I know," Gerard says, and he does, that's something he's never doubted for even a second. It's just, somehow it's never enough.