Title: The Circle Game
Pairing/Characters: Liz/Nikki
Rating: the last drabble is rated r the rest is pg-13ish
Summary: Snapshots of life
Word Count: 143 words, 161 words, 124 words, 134 words
Spoilers: season 5 episodes. (sorry i'm too lazy to look up the exact ones)
Notes/Warnings: Sex. Dating.
Disclaimer: I don't own Numb3rs but i forget who does >.<
Prompts: Forgiveness, Street/Shiver, Cooking/Negotiation, Sweat

( Read more... )

Title: The Scarlet Lady Killings
Pairing/Characters: Colby/?
Rating: Teen
Summary: "Colby's grandmother always told him he'd be done in by a lady in red."
Word Count: 300
Spoilers:N/A
Notes/Warnings: dark, death!fic. Thanks to Byrons_Brain for the format, Antiterror9067 for listening to me whine. and Especially for CPWatcher who's been the best cheerleader on this project from it's inception..
Disclaimer: I don't own Numb3rs, or anything else except the idea.

Colby's grandmother always told him he'd be done in by a lady in red.

Five bodies and Don’s team still couldn’t find any clues about the perp. The press started calling him the “Scarlet Lady Killer” crudely named after the perpetrator’s ‘calling card’, a white business card with a woman’s figure drawn in red.

Colby sighed and entered the bar. A flash of color caught his eye. There in the corner was a brunette with ruby lips and a red jacket. She smiled at him as she walked over. 'Carmen' she introduced herself. After several drinks, she invited him back to her place. “My car’s parked in the back” she said, as she led Colby around the bar, her hand pressed to his groin.

All the victims had the same type, male, mid thirties, dumped in a back alley with a shot to the head and heart. There was never any trace of the killer except that card.

She backed away from a kiss with a cruel smile. Suddenly, those ruby lips made her look like an Angel of Death. Her malicious laugh shot shivers down his spine and Colby knew she was the killer they’d been looking for. Crimson began to stain the front of his shirt as he crumpled to his knees. Pain was curiously absent as he looked at the light glinting off of the gun. BANG! And he knew nothing more.

The next day, Don, filled with grief, added a new photo to the line up of victims, along with the same business card as before. The only difference was that on the back of that new card was a message written in scarlet “Better luck next time!” The killer was taunting them. The new face that stared back at them from the photo was Colby’s.

Under a starlit sky she sat the glass of the solarium barely keeping a semblance of civilization under that sky. Her work table was filled with spools of thread, so many colors and shades. It was every single one that she owned. In front of her was a loom, one that had been passed down in her family for generations. Every woman in the matrilineal line had weaved something for almost 400 years. Or so the tale goes.

Now that she is about to become a mother herself fit is her turn to add her tale. Slowly her hand reaches for a spool at random, loading the fly with care. In a daze she moves every breath seemingly added to the flow of the weave. At random she changes threads, weaving a pattern without care for the consequences. It moves in a dance that only her family can understand. For this cloth is no ordinary cloth. She weaves her life into the tapestry of fate, as all before her did.

Lazy Sunday Afternoon

Jazz from another time croons softly out of an old record player, making a lazy afternoon. He put the paper down and invited his lover to join him in a dance, as she was dancing along cleaning the kitchen. Laughter filled the air; love surrounded them in that moment. The phone rang out shrilly breaking the spell, but secret smiles and memories kept it alive. It was all about those lazy afternoons with jazz and them.

word count - 147

Hope is a fragile and fleeting thing. If one spends their entire lives in despair they will never know hope. Hope is for those who have seen both despair and joy. The want for everything to be alright is hope. Our entire society has made a mockery of what we believed in for our country. We shades can tell the story better than most, but not many will ever ask our opinion.

You’ve never heard of us before have you? That is fine. We are the shadows of human beings, souls that never crossed over. We are souls created and never born. We are the lost ones seeded by humanity and the fallen; we are born and never die. So you see we are the best at spotting hope, because we have watched you. Trapped in the shadows and longing for the light… that is our existence.

Title: Automatonophobia
Characters: David, Colby
Challange: Phobia
Automatonophobia - Fear of ventriloquist's dummies, animatronic creatures, wax statues

They had been staking out this comedy club for hours when their suspect appeared carrying a trunk. Colby winced, as he stood, having tripped over the trunk while tackling the fleeing man. Turning from putting the suspect into the vehicle, David saw Colby shaking, staring at the open trunk like something in it would jump up and bite him.

David, still laughing, packed Colby into the car. "I can't believe you're scared of-"
"Don't say it. They're creepy fucks, scared me since I was little."
"But dummies?!"
Colby just sat there trying to contain the shuddering. David continued to laugh.

Title: My Stupid Mouth
Characters: Colby, Ian
Rating: G
Summary: Colby's mouth ran away from him.
Word Count: 100
Notes: Thanks to CP who got it down to 100 words and listened when i had the entire drabble in my head. and Antiterror9067 who helped me add more description
Disclaimer: I do not own Numb3rs.


‘I can’t believe I just said that’, Colby’s mouth ran away again, blurting something that he may not have even meant. Ian was going to kill him. It was a fact. ‘He’s not responding. OhmyGodI’mgonnadie! I’ll be his living target and he’ll bury me off this hiking trail.’

A minute later, with a small surprised laugh, Ian smiled. “We’ll see about that.” He paused a moment, smirking. “Race you to the car. Loser buys drinks!”

”Huh?” Colby looked confused as Ian started running the two miles back. Laughing as the standoff was broken, Colby ran, yelling, “Not going that easy!”

Lightning flashed off in the distance. It was late and you were driving home, or at least the place you reside. There was a dinner in an amazingly funky place with an awkward companion, who just happened to be dozing in the passenger seat. Vainly you try to stay awake to get back safely - only your going 80 mph on the 37 and it just started to rain. Hell if you were alone and the radio could play louder you might just run into the semi that you were passing. It was a very long day, full of heartache. everything that you had worked for with this person was ending. one month left to deal with the awkwardness and then they would be gone. Just like a flash of lightning leaving an impression on your eyelids. except for this storm isn't over. you know it will rain harder in the pitch black of the night, and when the sun shines in the morning you won't forget the imprint of that flash of light.


Rembrences,
Falcon

Dec05
Moony stretches out after the transformation, he knew he was separated from the rest of the house and the humans. He didn’t like the taste of his mouth so he tried to drink water to get out the taste. Moony explored the room and where the exit to his den was. He settled down on a comfortable blanket that smelled of his mate. His body was tired so quickly couldn’t protect pack properly with a body like this.

That thought sent Moony down memory lane of times many winters ago. He missed the mutt Padfoot who never stopped playing. He missed the proud Prongs the alpha stag. Sometimes he even missed Wormtail; though he wished desperately that he had killed him when he slept after drinking that funny smelling liquid (fire-whiskey). Wormtail had caused him to loose his pack, and run alone for far too long.

He also missed the other animals that would sometimes run with him. The animals were a fox, owl, and another small feline who smelled like Prongs-cub and mate all in one.
Moony got up to go outside and make sure his den was still secure. Winter creaked in his bones while he ran. Suddenly he smelled man. Observing, tall dark man just stood there smells funny ‘like potions’ his human mind interjected. Smells familiar too.

Severus allowed the wolf to approach and make sure that he allowed him to see the shiny disk in his hand. The wolf waited for him to throw it wagging his tail. Severus threw it then whispered as the wolf seemed to not mind the disk. No allergic reaction. “Wolf now I never have to make you another bloody potion.” The wolf could sense fondness and triumph as he brought the disk back and the man disappeared. Moony figured he had enough outside time and that his den would be safe from other packs.

Remus awoke that morning covered in a blanket and feeling better than he ever had after a transformation. It was almost as if he was cured. The door opened and his lover wandered in with a cup of hot chocolate. Remus growled slightly as it looked like his lover would give him the chocolate, but his lovers green eyes just sparkled as he handed over the cup and sat down beside him. Eventually when his brain turned on, the fact of how well he felt sunk in and his eyes widened. His lover/mate just kissed him on the lips and whispered “Happy Christmas Love”.

Happy Christmas indeed, Remus thought as he was now free.


Dec06 FF8 Squall/Seifer "Trouble"

Whenever Seifer planned a date something would always go wrong, whether it is protesters, fans or waiters messing up their order. Of course we cannot forget the classic assassin. Today though he had rented a car from Balamb and just drove. A quiet picnic in the middle of nowhere, sounds wonderful right?

Squall hid his mirth as Seifer cursed at Hyne. The car had been damaged by a T-rex. Seifer kept going on and on about how they were screwed and how he was sorry. Squall did the only thing he could. He kissed him, relishing the feeling of surrendering of his lips.

When Squall drove back to the shop he smirked at the thought of rewarding Seifer, thoroughly. Perhaps he wouldn’t mind bottoming for Seifer after he proved how good of a boy he was. He always knew how to get the reactions he wanted.

After tipping the guy 100 Gil for his trouble he thought “Sometimes it is good to be Commander”.

Dec04 RPS, Keira Knightly

On the set of King Arthur

She picked up her bow after putting on her face. Guenivere would take alot of mental masks to become. it wasn't like she was some fairytale princess.
The bow was hard with smooth lines along the recurve, kind of like a womans body she thought idly. It was her practice bow. Guen didn't have the luxury of anything but a short bow during her time.
Dressed in her leathers she started to stretch before taking her shots. Slow and steady. Wait to get comfortable with the shot like the had been taught. Hold her hand against her jaw and-
Twang! Bullseye. Thwack, thwack, thwack the arrows continue to keep flying until she was out.
After the shoot she was rewarded with a fluffy robe and a nice massage. Co-workers are truly wonderful beings.

Dec01 Harry Potter, Ginny Weasley 'I ain't gonna cry'

The Christmas season is there and I am not spending it with my family. The war ended 4 years ago and I still prefer the muggle world and uni instead of the wizarding world. It has been a long day at the antique shop where I work but luckily the semester at art uni is over. The snow doesn't dampen my relief that I get to the blue door of my flat. Cassie my pseudo flat-mate seems to have left me dinner. Good, in this state of remembrance I do not think I could have cooked.
I set my bag down and a parcel drops out. I don't remember that being in there. Charlie and Bill when I was little used to hide things on my birthday. It's so hard not to see them on Christmas.

I open the parcel and reveal a dragon music box that I had been eying in the shop. It goes in a place of honor on my mantle before I notice the note. It's from my boss saying "A woman who is a dragon deserves this dragon after the hard work she's done. I noticed you eying it. Happy Christmas"

I could cry at the thoughtfulness of humanity sometimes.


Dec02 RPS, Natalie Portman/Keira Knightly, 'Warm Secrets'

She and I are like mirrors on the set. Days of long hours, her as the lead and me as the extra. Whit the Queen of Nabo's make-up on our mothers had trouble telling us apart. Signals pass, me make our dissapearance, me to her dressing-room and her for a quick scene.

I know they wouldn't approve of our arrangement, frankly that makes it easier to disobey. She walks in as I am finishing stripping off the stage make-up. She disrobes and finishes the day here. We kiss on her couch in a warm cocoon of of light away fro m the cold set and world. We all have our warm and dear secrets.

Dec03 Harry Potter, Harry, 'When in doubt...'

Harry watched the flickering light of the Christmas decorations. The whole house was in the spirit giving it a very warm feeling of home. Tomorrow was Christmas and he would visit the Weasleys' for a short time. It was nice having the houe to himself for the night. The quiet humm of christmas carols as he wondered about his lover locked away on the full moon.

The song "One Small Child" came onto the playlist making Harry grimace with memories of the war and how people expected him to be. 'One small child in a land of a thousand, one small dream of a savior tonight'

He clicked the player off so that he would not remember just how it all ended two years ago. He got up and decided to follow a barmy old man's advice; "When in doubt have a cup of tea."

Albus was right though, everything usually was clearer after a nice cuppa.

It's All Hallow's Eve, the night the wall between the world thins. The world ends and begins today. sundown to sundown is this holiday. end of automn the beginning of winter. the next holiday is yule, my favorite. the world passes along this circle of time, never ending. a cycle that has no beginning and no ending. Infinite. a pattern that has not been broken since the dawn of time.

http://www.hermetics.org/pdf/8SabbatsofWitchcraft.pdf - yay info!

So if people have been reading this journal they probably did read some project called "It's Never Over". Well I am pleased to announce that I finished it! it's really short, hell the last chapter isn't even a page. but being as it is a string of drabbles I think that is allowed.

you can check it out here at ss_itsneverover posting on that forum is members only but others can view to leave a coment on the story leave it in this entry

It is pretty sad to see that even after we won... we lost. All of us. I have a pretty stone cottage with a wall of windows that I can look out of, but never have visitors. Sunlight settles prettily on the floor sending the patterns of the frames scattering across during the day. The floor boards are already worn with use so much history in a barren room. I can't help but wonder if it wouldn't be better if HE had won, not Harry.

In this cottage I have enough for the bare basics, but there are no bookshelves. No books either. Someone important once said "Where people burn books, they will eventually burn people." I don't recall now who said it, or if the quote is quite right. So much knowledge is lost, so many needlessly died. It is apt that this is said...

I have always been an outsider, not born to this world but gifted into it. I always wanted to make a good impression on people because I knew that I didn't want to be seen as someone from outside. It seems I lost that before it ever began.

The war, our people are sick dying and hungry. What was left of a Ministry acted quickly to create a new world. We are more isolated than before. The first move they made was to fix the wards and create wizard only spaces in Britain. Then they started to turn this world into a utopia. Hasn't anyone learned that a utopia doesn't last?

Censorship. I do not get news of the outside world, like most of us heroes that they imprisoned. You can't have revolutionaries to rile up the populace anymore. The story I was told is that we retired into the quiet life. I have a feeling that they polyjuice us to keep the masses happy.

Farenheit 451 degrees... the exact temperature to burn a book. I remember that detail. If I don't remember anything else of the book except that I enjoyed it. My memory is not as it was, with no stimulus I have no need to remember anything at all.

Eventually something will happen to break the strict happy go lucky rules of this Ministry. Eventually something will have to give. A Brave New World, A Handmaiden's Tale, Farenheit 451, 1984, Fight Club. They all say something about Utopias falling. Well at-least I think they do. I probably don't remember correctly.

Anyways it is too late for me. I am not good for breeding and I am too Liberal. Thus cottage for me. I hope someday History will be kind to me, for this world hasn't been. Since the moment I have gone to school I have been ridiculed. Perhaps I deserve this.

Someday I want to look back on this and laugh like it was just a bad dream. I won't be able to though. History says that it won't happen. Perhaps I should just give up. There is nothing left of who I was, a confident young woman.

I miss my books. I won't need them in the afterlife though. Those of you who watch me, remember me fondly will you? You may have trapped me here but I am ready to leave now.
Remember me,

Hermoine Jane Granger

Yes! a random chapter that fits no where at all.... thus why it is here and not on it's own journal

( Eternal Soldiers )

this came to me while watching the clouds move....
( Fall )

when in Ez i came up with this.(will add the other little bits when i have more time)

The rain pours down on the city. the streets are small, one can only walk two by two. And every night one would hear soldiers trailing through the streets. probably looking for robbers or intruders, we dont know which. for the city was closed in dark.
the shops had pictures on them for few could read.
Everything was irreputable because of some war somewhere. As a bard I was just getting started on my own when I met the people who will forever occupy my mind. I have never seen their faces and have no idea of their gender. They were called dagger and hell's angel; dagger for (i think it's a she) her knife throwing abilities and the angel was as theify as I am a bard. that's saying something.

I was in a tavern for the night people were talking loudly in many languages, perhaps trying to drown out the dreary night. Thz crowd seemed to enjoy my playing though they were not happy that i had no news of the outside world.

These two people participated in the drunken brawl that night, and later i found them in my room angel passed out and dagger glaring at me. And so that is how i met them, and later traveled with them.