October 9th

Oct. 8th, 2011 09:00 pm
bridgetmkennitt: (Girl Power)
[personal profile] bridgetmkennitt posting in [community profile] chromaticvision
Participants can create for either/both today's prompts or previous days' prompts (the latter on the previous days' entries).

Day 1 on IJ | Day 1 on DW
Day 2 on IJ | Day 2 on DW
Day 3 on IJ | Day 3 on DW
Day 4 on IJ | Day 4 on DW
Day 5 on IJ | Day 5 on DW
Day 6 on IJ | Day 6 on DW
Day 7 on IJ | Day 7 on DW
Day 8 on IJ | Day 8 on DW


Prompt 1

Or this link to the YouTube video if embed doesn't work for you.
Perfume of Love by Globe

Prompt 2
this is the first day of my last days

Prompt 3
concrete jungle where dreams are made of

Prompt 4
shut out the world

Prompt 5
strong resistance

Prompt 6+
wrath | black & white | sacrifice | teamwork


Guidelines:
- Drabbles must have a character of color/non-white character as the focus, whether singular or in a pairing.
- Drabbles are 100 words or in sets of 100 words. Iconbles are 2-4 icons of the same image with different textures/texts/colors/etc. Drawbles are up to the artist's discretion.
- Prompts can be interpreted however you wish.
- Drabbles can be posted in its entirety in the comments of that day's prompts or linked elsewhere (on LJ, personal website, AO3, etc) with header information listed.
- Subject title format: Title, Fandom, Character/Pairing

Prove Yourself, Aliens, Vasquez, R prompt 4

Date: 2011-10-09 02:41 pm (UTC)
hellkitty: (arch purplegold)
From: [personal profile] hellkitty
(A doubledrabble, sorry. I couldn't keep this one short!)

“Mamoncete!” Vasquez balled a fist, slamming it into the thin metal of the locker door.

“Hey! Hey,” Drake’s hand on her shoulder, another around her ribs: hard, furred bars of muscle and bone. “Fuck him, Vasquez. He’s nothing.”

Her hand stung, bones jarred, but rage was still hot and coursing through her veins. “Sick of his shit, Drake.”

“He ain’t worth it.”

“Thinks I can’t handle it.” She struggled, just to give the energy and anger something to do. And maybe—maybe—to feel the reflexive clutch of Drake’s arms, the bunching of his thighs as he took her weight. Taking her seriously, something that fucking asshole Gorman never did.

“Shows how much he knows,” Drake’s voice had a laughing edge.

“Wants to take me off the gun, man.” She was glad for their position, glad he couldn’t see the tears that prickled the corners of her eyes.

The laugh died from Drake’s voice. “Fuck him. You’re the best gunner in the squad. Well.” A tilt of the head, the beaded dangles from his cap tickled her neck, “second best.”

“Fuck you, too, white boy.”

“You’re on. After you outshoot me.”

“Won’t take long.” Her anger melted to resolve.

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