Three Drabbles: Sense [Phantom of the Opera], Animal Magnetism, Vacation [FFVII]
For the three charming explanations for Catwoman's survival:
For sciencegoddess, the Phantom of the Opera and Christine, 119 words, PG:
Christine closed her eyes, letting the music wash over her. She closed her eyes a lot, down here - when she sang, when he played, after he blew the candles out at night. Sight was almost irrelevant in this cool dark place, with him. Sound was the ruling sense; sound and touch, because sound itself was tangible down here. It echoed across the lake when he played, rolled down her skin when he spoke, found every crevice in her body when he sang. It was a good thing that her angel wasn't a threat to her virtue; Christine would let him do anything to her so long as he sang while he did it.
drakonlily, Reno and a flying fox, 95 words, G. Educational, even.
"A what?" he asked, blinking up at Rude. "Sounds like some kinda super hero."
"Flying fox," had been the bigger man's reply. "A kind of bat. Likes fruit." He pulled down a big green book from the shelf and flipped deliberately through it. Reno perched next to him, peering at the brightly colored pictures of animals. It looked like something that belonged in a kid's room, not in his partner's library. "Look." He held the picture out.
"I'll be damned," he said. "It does have my hair color."
"Told you."
For protect_vester, Cid and Shera, 135 words, PG.
"Just - bring me some goddamned tea, woman," he snapped, stomping off. Shera sighed and put the kettle on. One of these days, she would win this argument. This was as close as she had ever come - he hadn't actually managed to come up with a reply. Maybe next time he would give in. They hadn't had a vacation in a long time, and the idea of Cid on the ski slopes was entrancing in a way she wouldn't explain to him. A long day on the slopes, coming back to a small cabin and drinking tea in front of a roaring fire, just the two of them - it would take a dead man not to find that romantic. Humming, Shera pulled out the brochures again.
For sciencegoddess, the Phantom of the Opera and Christine, 119 words, PG:
Christine closed her eyes, letting the music wash over her. She closed her eyes a lot, down here - when she sang, when he played, after he blew the candles out at night. Sight was almost irrelevant in this cool dark place, with him. Sound was the ruling sense; sound and touch, because sound itself was tangible down here. It echoed across the lake when he played, rolled down her skin when he spoke, found every crevice in her body when he sang. It was a good thing that her angel wasn't a threat to her virtue; Christine would let him do anything to her so long as he sang while he did it.
drakonlily, Reno and a flying fox, 95 words, G. Educational, even.
"A what?" he asked, blinking up at Rude. "Sounds like some kinda super hero."
"Flying fox," had been the bigger man's reply. "A kind of bat. Likes fruit." He pulled down a big green book from the shelf and flipped deliberately through it. Reno perched next to him, peering at the brightly colored pictures of animals. It looked like something that belonged in a kid's room, not in his partner's library. "Look." He held the picture out.
"I'll be damned," he said. "It does have my hair color."
"Told you."
For protect_vester, Cid and Shera, 135 words, PG.
"Just - bring me some goddamned tea, woman," he snapped, stomping off. Shera sighed and put the kettle on. One of these days, she would win this argument. This was as close as she had ever come - he hadn't actually managed to come up with a reply. Maybe next time he would give in. They hadn't had a vacation in a long time, and the idea of Cid on the ski slopes was entrancing in a way she wouldn't explain to him. A long day on the slopes, coming back to a small cabin and drinking tea in front of a roaring fire, just the two of them - it would take a dead man not to find that romantic. Humming, Shera pulled out the brochures again.