jalenstrix (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
jalenstrix) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
labyfic2018-11-01 04:50 am
jalenstrix) wrote in labyfic2018-11-01 04:50 am
Entry tags:
Drabble #74: Gratitude
...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
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
no subject