Finally get around to posting...
Fandom : Good Omens
Word count : 227
Characters/pairings : Crowley
Notes : For Challenge #1
He saw it in the garden, first. Before the humans were thrown out on their ear and everything started to get...interesting. Eve would press her lips to Adam's and they would close their eyes and moan a bit until they needed to breathe properly. At the time, he didn't see the point. It seemed unhygienic, sloppy and just repellent.
Years passed, then centuries until finally he got comfortable in this meat-bag body with no wings and a distressing tendency to think for itself. He still didn't 'get' the obsession with kissing and had chalked it up to unfathomable human tendencies like belching and picking their noses.
Until one night, when he was drinking himself stupid after watching the latest cult's monthly gathering. He was joined by a prince of the kingdom and they both talked through night about everything. Crowley could never remember - later, when he was sober - which of them brought it up but he did remember arguing with all the drunken intensity he could muster.
Then he was pulled to his feet and they staggered into each other. He remembers the taste of drink and meat and the bump of teeth against lip and the awkwardness. He remembers being the one to initiate the second kiss; which worked better. He remembers heat and the coppery taste of blood from his own split lip.
The prince was killed ten years later. He doesn't know why he remembers that.
Fandom : Pitch-Black/Chronicles of Riddick
Word count : 211
Characters : Riddick
Warnings : Um....wild supposition on my part? One or two swearwords.
Notes : Set pre-movie. In response to Challenge #2
He's a child. That's what they think as they come closer. Richard would have run away, or melted into the shadows and prayed for them not to find him. He isn't Richard any more and he fingers the bottom of the cup as he watches them approach from the corner of his eye.
The first grabs his shoulder and spins him round, he twists - adding his own momentum to the motion. The cup's sharpened edge catches along the pulsing artery, sending blood flying in a crimson arc. The others are caught off-guard and even as they scramble to protect themselves, he's moving. The cup ain't the most elegant weapon, the edge isn't even and it's cheap ass gun metal which bends when it slashes through flesh.
They weren't expecting him and he'd been planning this since he palmed the cup two days ago. Five minutes and they're all lying on the ground. One thrashes and gurgles until he stomps on the back of the drecker's neck and snaps it.
Riddick looks down at them and drops the crumpled cup into the puddle of warm blood. He should say something...something meaningful, something to mark this moment. He thinks a moment longer, then spits on the corpses.
"Fuckwits." And he walks away.
Word count : 227
Characters/pairings : Crowley
Notes : For Challenge #1
He saw it in the garden, first. Before the humans were thrown out on their ear and everything started to get...interesting. Eve would press her lips to Adam's and they would close their eyes and moan a bit until they needed to breathe properly. At the time, he didn't see the point. It seemed unhygienic, sloppy and just repellent.
Years passed, then centuries until finally he got comfortable in this meat-bag body with no wings and a distressing tendency to think for itself. He still didn't 'get' the obsession with kissing and had chalked it up to unfathomable human tendencies like belching and picking their noses.
Until one night, when he was drinking himself stupid after watching the latest cult's monthly gathering. He was joined by a prince of the kingdom and they both talked through night about everything. Crowley could never remember - later, when he was sober - which of them brought it up but he did remember arguing with all the drunken intensity he could muster.
Then he was pulled to his feet and they staggered into each other. He remembers the taste of drink and meat and the bump of teeth against lip and the awkwardness. He remembers being the one to initiate the second kiss; which worked better. He remembers heat and the coppery taste of blood from his own split lip.
The prince was killed ten years later. He doesn't know why he remembers that.
Fandom : Pitch-Black/Chronicles of Riddick
Word count : 211
Characters : Riddick
Warnings : Um....wild supposition on my part? One or two swearwords.
Notes : Set pre-movie. In response to Challenge #2
He's a child. That's what they think as they come closer. Richard would have run away, or melted into the shadows and prayed for them not to find him. He isn't Richard any more and he fingers the bottom of the cup as he watches them approach from the corner of his eye.
The first grabs his shoulder and spins him round, he twists - adding his own momentum to the motion. The cup's sharpened edge catches along the pulsing artery, sending blood flying in a crimson arc. The others are caught off-guard and even as they scramble to protect themselves, he's moving. The cup ain't the most elegant weapon, the edge isn't even and it's cheap ass gun metal which bends when it slashes through flesh.
They weren't expecting him and he'd been planning this since he palmed the cup two days ago. Five minutes and they're all lying on the ground. One thrashes and gurgles until he stomps on the back of the drecker's neck and snaps it.
Riddick looks down at them and drops the crumpled cup into the puddle of warm blood. He should say something...something meaningful, something to mark this moment. He thinks a moment longer, then spits on the corpses.
"Fuckwits." And he walks away.