I started celebrating spring early by soliciting prompts from people who thought it would be nice if I started taking them again (check your inboxes, poll-takers), and I've written four so far. I gave myself 15 minutes per prompt from start to finish because it was the only way to get my "writer's bloke" (yes, I'm still amused by my own mistake) to cooperate. What follows are the first four of (hopefully) 13 Egg-Timer Drabbles.
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blueartemis07 prompted me with Snape/Luna: velvet, lawn, and peaches, and I wrote Shopping for Company (G; Snape/Luna; 100 words):"Oil on velvet, 'Promise of the Peaches'," the shopboy volunteered, nodding at the portrait.
The subject presenting her wares was dressed in rather tight lawn and smirking in an indecorous manner.
Severus frowned more deeply. "It's ghastly."
"No, it's ghostly."
"Miss Lovegood, what—"
"This is spectre work, you know, and it's not nice of you to be unkind in the presence of the artist."
It was then that Severus realised the "shopboy" was well and truly hovering.
"Shouldn't you apologise?"
"Forgive me," Severus said, quite at a loss to understand why he did so—until Lovegood smiled warmly at him.
eaivalefay prompted me with Harry/Hermione/Ron (in the wake of Rowling's latest): bound, clandestine, and magnanimous, and I wrote Most Definitely Not in Search of an Author (R; Harry/Ron/Hermione; 100 words):It was Ron who sorted them out. He loved them both; why should he have to choose? In the end, after several liberal measures of Ogden's Old, he didn't: He gave the chocolate to Hermione, the flowers to Harry, and his cock to them both—not both at once, of course, but in turn, and then, in a magnanimous gesture, was the first to agree to be bound—anything for his Harry and Hermione. That first clandestine tryst, he decided, would not be their last; there was too much to taste, to touch, but too much would never be enough.
unbroken_halo prompted me with Draco/Harry: comfortable, new, & socks, and I wrote Comfortable (G; Draco/Harry; 100 words):The fact of the matter was that, when Draco had kissed Harry for the first time, it had felt comfortable. He'd thought it might feel hateful or shameful or hot, or some combination thereof, but it hadn't. The new sensation of firm lips against his own had felt akin to slipping on a pair of soft, fine socks, and that was why Draco had stayed with Harry. It shouldn't have been so easy a decision, but ultimately, nothing had ever been more so. Draco had just known: Harry was home to him, and having ascertained that, he'd never looked back.
venturous1 prompted me with Harry/Luna: visions, magic, and surprise, and I wrote Ever After (G; Harry/Luna; 100 words):Luna appeared before him. "Surprise."
Visions of disaster popped into Harry's mind. "What's happened?"
"You look handsome in those robes," Luna replied, slipping a quill into Harry's breast pocket, "but no amount of magic will make things right if you marry someone who doesn't love you."
"Ginny does not love Nev—"
"She does, and he loves her—as much as you love me."
"I . . . we can't . . . this isn't—"
"How our story's supposed to end, I know," Luna said, turning to leave. "When you finally decide to become the author of your own destiny, I might still be waiting for you."
P.S. With regard to my recent breakfast fail post, Shog reminded me that Steak 'n' Shake counts as fast food (as does stealing french fries from his orders whenever he goes through a drive-through). My bad. In any case, today's breakfast was decaf, a blueberry yogurt, and roasted veg, so I'm feeling satisfied. (As well {for those of you who read beneath that post's cut}, I just wanted to note that no, I don't think I'm psychic; I think I've got a lag-behind subconscious. :P)
