Drabble #74: Gratitude
Thursday, 1 November 2018 04:50![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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labyfic...we had a quieter response to the drabble prompt of Drabble 73, with an entry by me (your intrepid drabble proposer
jalenstrix). 3iggy and womanroaring represented the labyfic collective with commenting love — huzzah!Oh, labyfic collective, what can we do to draw you back in? Different prompts perhaps? Do let me know.
For this prompt, we continue with our one-word drabble roots, with a word inspired by Thanksgiving:
Gratitude
Whose gratitude? Why are (or aren’t) they grateful and what about? Or who? So many possibilities, so little time...
Given our entries from recent months, let's continue with the limit for this month of 500 words. Though remember that shorter pieces are most definitely welcome!
Your entry should take the following format, posted as a comment on this entry:
Word count: # of words
Drabble: $your_beautiful_drabble
I'll aim to get the next drabble challenge out on the first Friday of next month (Dec 7).
I'm also very happy to take suggestions if something in particular strikes your fancy -- comment on this post or PM me with your suggestions. You can see our current collected suggestions here.
Remember: Feedback is LOVE. So do reply to your fellow labyficcers' drabbles if so inclined. (Though be careful of concrit unless specifically okayed by the author beforehand.)
no subject
2018-11-17 22:56 (UTC)“Well, that’s gratitude for you. I’m surprised at you, Sarah.”
I crossed my arms and tried not to glare at a goblin king who was distinctly pleased with himself. “I specifically recall asking you not to help.”
“Do you?” Said goblin king crossed his own arms and leaned easily against the office wall, showing off a well-tailored line of lean torso. Zegna looked good on him and he knew it.
I pointedly ignored him and his Italian finery, whipped out my phone, and whirled through my texts. Aha. “In fact, my exact words were ‘Jareth, don’t help me’.”
“Were they?”
“Yes they were.” I held up my phone, showing the text to him from this morning. “Right here.”
His lips flicked up briefly in a devilish smirk. “Mmm. So they were.”
“Jareth!”
“Mmm?”
“Why did you do this?”
He arched an eyebrow. “You mean make sure that irritating son of a bitch, who for unfathomable reasons has power over your career, listened to what you had to say for once?”
I closed my eyes briefly and took a nice, slow breath. “I mean go against my express wishes about interfering with my work life.”
“Are you really angry at that? He wouldn’t have listened to you otherwise, and you know it.”
“And so I would have had to strategize about how to make him listen — without you popping him into a hell dimension.” I threw up my hands. “You can’t go solving all my problems by brute force!”
“Brute force, pah! That was a fine bit of illusionist finesse. A little force and a lot of skill.”
I rolled my eyes. “Not the point.”
“Tell me you didn’t enjoy seeing him so afraid after all the grief he’s given you.”
My own lips flicked up briefly. “Well, I can’t say that.”
“Tell me you didn’t like having his undivided attention and undying good will for ostensibly saving him.”
My smile flickered again in fond recollection. True, that had been briefly glorious.
“Mmhmm, that’s what I thought. Now tell me you don’t love your overbearing, protective husband, even when he helps you against your express wishes.”
I looked at him for a long moment, and then relented. “You know I’d never say that.”
“Mmhmm.” He moved close to me, his mouth suddenly a hard thought from mine. “And so here we are.”
His kiss seared through me, electric with promise.
I drew back just enough to form words, my lips brushing over his. “I love you, you overbearing, protective Faerie nut.”
“Good thing, too. No one else can put up with me for very long.”
“Tell me about it. Must be that you’re a demon in the sack.”
“Why don’t we verify that, just to make sure?”
“Mmhmm. Just to make sure.”
no subject
2023-08-01 12:12 (UTC)no subject
2018-11-27 19:45 (UTC)no subject
2018-12-02 04:16 (UTC)no subject
2018-11-27 19:47 (UTC)A/N: Sorry this one a bit hastily written and may be a bit sloppy.
Sarah nudged the candlestick over just a teensy bit before changing her mind and pushing it back into its original spot. She was being unusually critical. Her eyes swept the tablescape. It really was lovely—simple, elegant, and way too understated for hosting a fae king.
Bits of evergreen branches were laid out as a carpet for the candles in their silver holders—it was too Christmasy for a Thanksgiving dinner. What was she thinking inviting him over for a dinner?
Sarah’s heartbeat quickened as the smell of magic—surprisingly pepperminty—filled the air. It was too late to worry about table arrangements now. Besides, who was she trying to fool? She wasn’t concerned about what Jareth thought of her holiday decor. She was worried about what he would think about her.
Sarah fled to the kitchen hoping to spare herself from that piercing gaze for just a few more seconds.
“And where do you think you’re going?” His voice sent shivers running down her spine as she shut her eyes tight and stood facing the refrigerator. When did she become such a chicken?
“Hasn’t anyone every told you that you shouldn’t run from immortal things? It only catches our attention,” his voice was right there in her ear. His gloved hands cold against the bare skin of her arms as he stood behind her. Who wore a sleeveless dress in November anyway?
“I wasn’t running,” she lied allowing her eyes to open. “I was only taking a moment to smooth a few wrinkles out of my dress.” Of course, it was black velvet, there were no wrinkles to worry about.
“Hmm,” he spun her around and immediately shoved her up against the unsuspecting refrigerator. “If you weren’t wearing a dress at all, you wouldn’t be worrying about wrinkles.”
Sarah swallowed. That apparently was enough to warrant an assault on her lips. The fae king, who was no slave to the clock and therefore never in a hurry, took his time teasing her lips.
When Sarah was completely breathless and no longer sure of her ability to stand, Jareth pulled away and pointed her toward the dinning room.
“I’ll get the wine,” his eyes twinkled as he gave her a little nudge in the right direction.
“Thank you,” Sarah mumbled as she stumbled to a chair weak-kneed as a moment old fawn.
“After all I’ve done for you…it’s about time I got a little gratitude.”
Sarah couldn’t help but laugh as he reappeared at her shoulder with a glass of red wine in each hand.
Jareth perched on the side of the table and watched her take a few greedy sips from the glass.
“How would you feel about skipping straight to dessert?” He asked with a grin that sent butterflies swirling around her stomach. She was not going to survive this Thanksgiving.
no subject
2018-12-02 04:18 (UTC)no subject
2023-08-01 12:23 (UTC)Embrace
2023-08-01 12:24 (UTC)Drabble:
When Sarah had arrived at the city library on her way to taking her turn reading to the children, she’d spotted Rook and Doug amid a pile of books as they discussed their latest project. After she’d finished cheerfully adulterating Above children’s stories to better suit her Underground audience, she was surprised to see the pair were still at work. However, this time Rook held a shaking Doug in her tight embrace.
Sarah had been quietly explaining her morning excursion to Bishop as they worked in the castle’s library reshelving books as an excuse to monitor Rook, who had ensconced herself in a window seat. She had her arms tightly wrapped around her knees as she stared out across the Labyrinth. If her withdrawn posture wasn’t enough of an indicator, the new polychromatic hue of her hair was a clear sign that she’d seen her friend through a recent incident.
Sarah was certain that Rook could still hear them, but it seemed rude to speak loudly while the woman was in the room. “None of Doug’s past trauma is her fault. Especially when she did everything she could to keep him alive and get him away from his abusers.”
Bishop picked up a book from the cart, dancing his long fingers along the shelf until he found its proper place. “She knows this intellectually, but the emotional fallout from his panic attacks has always hit her hard.” He climbed up a rolling ladder and reached down for another book.
Passing books up one by one, Sarah was again struck by the contrast that Bishop bore to his partner. With a brightly embroidered waistcoat over a jewel toned silk shirt, he displayed an Above approximation of Jareth’s effortless sartorial elegance. Unlike Rook, who dressed for comfort and had all the discernible style of a goblin. The one item of clothing that the woman always wore or had close at hand was a black brocade frock coat. Sarah could only assume that the coat had been chosen because it was large enough to conceal the many weapons the woman carried, rather than for its design. The fact that it was puddled, somewhat pointily, on the other side of the room was cause for concern. While she had no doubt that Rook was still armed in some way and was more than capable of inflicting harm in her human form, it felt wrong that she’d so casually disarmed herself.
Sarah looked up as Jareth entered the library, catching his eye and jerking her head in Rook’s direction. Jareth’s eyebrows raised in understanding and he crossed the room to wriggle his way behind Rook, one leg pressed against the glass, his other foot on the floor as he held her tightly to his chest, idly traced patterns along an arm to leave colourful tattoos curling in his wake.
Bishop climbed down to rejoin Sarah. “For all that the kingdom is a magnet for refugees and the broken, we do well looking after our own.”