Meme drabbles part II
Feb. 5th, 2010 06:40 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dolevalanThe challenge:
1. Pick a character, pairing, or fandom you like.
2. Turn your music player on and set it to random.
3. Write a drabble/ficlet to each song that plays. You have only the length of the song to finish the drabble; you start when the song starts and stop when it’s over. No lingering afterwards!
4. Do five and post them.
10 more, for Arthur Sloane. Mostly canon-verse, a few RP-verse. As an extra after-work treat for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
rougen. Again, forgive the bizarre musical patchwork that is my library on shuffle.
Arthur poured himself a drink. It wasn’t even noon yet.
Then again, he wasn’t going to work that day, so it didn’t really matter.
He’d needed to leave her; it was the only smart thing to do. Staying would have been… well. His lips quirked, bitterly. He’d often been stupid, but he wasn’t yet suicidal.
She’d forgotten a lipstick that was resting on the sink.
He downed the drink in one go.
(- There Stands the Glass, Patty Loveless)
Arthur tried not to fidget. He liked the theater fine, but the symphony was something else altogether. He was aware of how out of place he was, despite being slicked up and shined like a new penny. Greenbaum had made his usual wisecrack about Arthur slipping out early for a hot date, but she’d insisted on the chance to clean him up first.
Among other things. Arthur smiled a little, despite himself. She was worth the risks; why shouldn’t she be worth an evening at the symphony?
He was no fool, of course, but then neither was Celine. She’d begun a pattern of taking blue collar members of the community to art events. A fireman to the ballet. A veteran soldier to an art gallery. He was just the lucky detective of the week.
He still thought it was risky. She found it extremely amusing.
They didn’t touch one another. They didn’t even look at one another. Her eyes were steadily on the orchestra; his flitted here and there, habit taking over. He couldn’t help but watch people watch the performance.
And though he didn’t look, he could imagine Celine. Her lips curved up in a demure, public smile. Nothing too immoderate, but appreciative none the less. Her hair was twisted up and back, perfectly, pearls twined around her slender neck. He had always appreciated her neck. Her long hands would be folded, neatly, in her lap. She would be, absolutely, the picture of the good wife, doing a public service.
It was more than likely that right at this moment, he was sabotaging a promising career. She might survive the scandal, but he never would. But he had to admit, even to himself… the risk added flavor. Every meeting was an adventure.
This one, however, was a bit stationary for him. They wouldn’t be able to go to a hotel, of course. She’d have to make a show of leaving him, and might or might not be able to get away again that night. Probably why she’d been so… thorough before the concert. He tried not to shudder at the memory, a bit of heat rising to the back of his neck.
She was a lot of things, but Arthur Sloane’s lover was nothing if not skilled. He fully realized she wasn’t in love with him; she’d made him a project, nothing more. But he didn’t mind. If a beautiful dame wanted to play with him awhile, he didn’t object to letting her.
But thank Christ she was married. Too much culture could kill a man.
(- Beethoven: Symphony #7 In A, Op. 92 - 1. Poco Sostenuto, Vivace)
Arthur sat and watched Danny and Kitty dance. Danny had been so eager for Arthur to approve of her, and now it was apparent why. The kid was head over heels.
Hell, Arthur couldn’t blame him. Kitty was a sweet kid, with a pretty, girl-next-door face. She was just as crazy for him as he was for her. But then, why shouldn’t she be? Danny had the looks, the easy, genuine charm for it. They’d have a bunch of kids, and Arthur could spoil them when their parents weren’t looking.
The band played softly, and Danny pulled Kitty a little closer. Arthur couldn’t help but smile. His kid brother was made for happy ever after.
(- Easy to Love, Casper Reardon and his Orchestra)
What the hell was wrong with him?
Arthur paced his little room. He’d thought it had just been the isolation. Years pent up, then meeting a gorgeous dame right off? Didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure how that’d go.
But that didn’t explain why he felt like he was home when she smiled. Why he was filled with anger if she seemed down or the least bit upset. Why…
He’d wanted women before. That was no secret. But Arthur Sloane didn’t believe in love anymore.
He was still a world-class idiot. That, at least, hadn’t changed.
(- I Turned a Corner/I’m Falling in Love With Someone, Thoroughly Modern Millie)
Katiya had grown up.
He wasn’t sure when, or how, but the fact was she was sitting across from him, dressed up for an evening out, sipping wine. She seemed almost more vivid than her surroundings, burning with passion, energy, temper. Life.
He wondered if he’d ever been that young.
(- The Dress Looks Nice on You, Sufjan Stevens)
Sloane grabbed his jacket and his piece and headed out into the evening. No partner, no business, no dame. The day was just getting more and more stellar.
He did have one last case though. Maybe nothing would come of it, but hell, there was nothing to lose now. And if Tonya still wanted him dead, maybe at least he’d make someone happy before the end of the evening.
Of course, he could just go out and get roaring drunk. It was always an option. But he didn’t want to forget. No one else was going to – it seemed hardly fair.
Maybe he’d clear what was left of his name to clear.
(- Bouncing Off the Walls, Sugarcult)
The night was warm, late spring. Arthur was sprawled out on his fire escape, listening to an impromptu jazz concert a few blocks away, over the distant roar of traffic. A couple crows flew overhead, riding a gust of warm air, almost hot.
He took a drink and leaned his head back against the railing. Of course, they were old enough for people he knew to get married. And everyone’d always known Nancy was the prettiest girl on the block.
But she was the first to go.
(- Little Bird, Eels)
It took him a moment to realize that the girl was Jane Cooper. The last time he’d seen her, she’d been maybe 20 or 21, with a pretty little smile, glasses, and a way of playing her fingers over each other.
The intervening years had been good to her. She’s filled out in the chest and hips, and her hair and darkened a shade or two. Now it was excellently styled, and the pale purple dress suited her perfectly.
She saw him, and raised an eyebrow. She clearly had no similar problems recognizing him. “Arthur Sloane. You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Ghost of Christmas Future, maybe.” He tilted his fedora back with a thumb. “Little Jane Cooper. If it ain’t you in the flesh.”
She laughed; it was a more practiced, rich laugh than the light, almost girlish one he remembered. “Aren’t you sweet, Mr. Sloane.”
He leaned on the lunch counter. “I try. You want to get a drink sometime, Miss Cooper?”
“Afraid I’m spoken for,” she said, then patted his cheek. “But it’s good to see you.” And then she left.
(- Merry Happy, Kate Nash)
He remembered playing stickball in the street.
It hadn’t been a great neighborhood, no, but it had been a good enough one that the kids still played in it.
He’d been a little scrawny as a kid, but fast. He and Danny… the guys. Ted, Johnny, Rodger, even sometimes the sportier girls if they were short. Nancy had a deceptively powerful swing, he remembered.
Arthur wasn’t much of a one for nostalgia. But there had been a time when problems were simple. When the family had been happy, more often than not. When he knew he’d be called in for supper at six, as surely as he knew the sun would rise the next day.
He had wanted that for Danny, if not for himself. He wasn’t exactly the family type, after all, but…
He turned up his collar. Kitty had left some roses by the headstone recently; they weren’t even covered in snow yet.
Wherever Danny was, he hoped it was someplace where dinner was at six.
(- Mercedes, Gankutsuou OST)
She wasn’t talking to anyone.
Arthur knew things had been bad for a long time. He knew first hand.
But he couldn’t give up hope altogether. Call it a character flaw.
He brought her flowers. He showed her the light outside the window.
And finally, he half dragged her out of the house. Though she resisted him at first, she wasn’t going to hold out against a beautiful day in the country forever. She wasn’t as shut up inside as all that, for all she was hurting and trying to pull away.
He knew her better than that.
And she might be his author, but she was also his best friend. If anyone could use some hope…
Well. She knew he wasn’t a hero. But he was a stubborn bastard all the same. And he’d be damned if he didn’t get her to smile before the end of the day.
(- Dear Prudence, Across the Universe OST)
1. Pick a character, pairing, or fandom you like.
2. Turn your music player on and set it to random.
3. Write a drabble/ficlet to each song that plays. You have only the length of the song to finish the drabble; you start when the song starts and stop when it’s over. No lingering afterwards!
4. Do five and post them.
10 more, for Arthur Sloane. Mostly canon-verse, a few RP-verse. As an extra after-work treat for
rougen. Again, forgive the bizarre musical patchwork that is my library on shuffle.Arthur poured himself a drink. It wasn’t even noon yet.
Then again, he wasn’t going to work that day, so it didn’t really matter.
He’d needed to leave her; it was the only smart thing to do. Staying would have been… well. His lips quirked, bitterly. He’d often been stupid, but he wasn’t yet suicidal.
She’d forgotten a lipstick that was resting on the sink.
He downed the drink in one go.
(- There Stands the Glass, Patty Loveless)
Arthur tried not to fidget. He liked the theater fine, but the symphony was something else altogether. He was aware of how out of place he was, despite being slicked up and shined like a new penny. Greenbaum had made his usual wisecrack about Arthur slipping out early for a hot date, but she’d insisted on the chance to clean him up first.
Among other things. Arthur smiled a little, despite himself. She was worth the risks; why shouldn’t she be worth an evening at the symphony?
He was no fool, of course, but then neither was Celine. She’d begun a pattern of taking blue collar members of the community to art events. A fireman to the ballet. A veteran soldier to an art gallery. He was just the lucky detective of the week.
He still thought it was risky. She found it extremely amusing.
They didn’t touch one another. They didn’t even look at one another. Her eyes were steadily on the orchestra; his flitted here and there, habit taking over. He couldn’t help but watch people watch the performance.
And though he didn’t look, he could imagine Celine. Her lips curved up in a demure, public smile. Nothing too immoderate, but appreciative none the less. Her hair was twisted up and back, perfectly, pearls twined around her slender neck. He had always appreciated her neck. Her long hands would be folded, neatly, in her lap. She would be, absolutely, the picture of the good wife, doing a public service.
It was more than likely that right at this moment, he was sabotaging a promising career. She might survive the scandal, but he never would. But he had to admit, even to himself… the risk added flavor. Every meeting was an adventure.
This one, however, was a bit stationary for him. They wouldn’t be able to go to a hotel, of course. She’d have to make a show of leaving him, and might or might not be able to get away again that night. Probably why she’d been so… thorough before the concert. He tried not to shudder at the memory, a bit of heat rising to the back of his neck.
She was a lot of things, but Arthur Sloane’s lover was nothing if not skilled. He fully realized she wasn’t in love with him; she’d made him a project, nothing more. But he didn’t mind. If a beautiful dame wanted to play with him awhile, he didn’t object to letting her.
But thank Christ she was married. Too much culture could kill a man.
(- Beethoven: Symphony #7 In A, Op. 92 - 1. Poco Sostenuto, Vivace)
Arthur sat and watched Danny and Kitty dance. Danny had been so eager for Arthur to approve of her, and now it was apparent why. The kid was head over heels.
Hell, Arthur couldn’t blame him. Kitty was a sweet kid, with a pretty, girl-next-door face. She was just as crazy for him as he was for her. But then, why shouldn’t she be? Danny had the looks, the easy, genuine charm for it. They’d have a bunch of kids, and Arthur could spoil them when their parents weren’t looking.
The band played softly, and Danny pulled Kitty a little closer. Arthur couldn’t help but smile. His kid brother was made for happy ever after.
(- Easy to Love, Casper Reardon and his Orchestra)
What the hell was wrong with him?
Arthur paced his little room. He’d thought it had just been the isolation. Years pent up, then meeting a gorgeous dame right off? Didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure how that’d go.
But that didn’t explain why he felt like he was home when she smiled. Why he was filled with anger if she seemed down or the least bit upset. Why…
He’d wanted women before. That was no secret. But Arthur Sloane didn’t believe in love anymore.
He was still a world-class idiot. That, at least, hadn’t changed.
(- I Turned a Corner/I’m Falling in Love With Someone, Thoroughly Modern Millie)
Katiya had grown up.
He wasn’t sure when, or how, but the fact was she was sitting across from him, dressed up for an evening out, sipping wine. She seemed almost more vivid than her surroundings, burning with passion, energy, temper. Life.
He wondered if he’d ever been that young.
(- The Dress Looks Nice on You, Sufjan Stevens)
Sloane grabbed his jacket and his piece and headed out into the evening. No partner, no business, no dame. The day was just getting more and more stellar.
He did have one last case though. Maybe nothing would come of it, but hell, there was nothing to lose now. And if Tonya still wanted him dead, maybe at least he’d make someone happy before the end of the evening.
Of course, he could just go out and get roaring drunk. It was always an option. But he didn’t want to forget. No one else was going to – it seemed hardly fair.
Maybe he’d clear what was left of his name to clear.
(- Bouncing Off the Walls, Sugarcult)
The night was warm, late spring. Arthur was sprawled out on his fire escape, listening to an impromptu jazz concert a few blocks away, over the distant roar of traffic. A couple crows flew overhead, riding a gust of warm air, almost hot.
He took a drink and leaned his head back against the railing. Of course, they were old enough for people he knew to get married. And everyone’d always known Nancy was the prettiest girl on the block.
But she was the first to go.
(- Little Bird, Eels)
It took him a moment to realize that the girl was Jane Cooper. The last time he’d seen her, she’d been maybe 20 or 21, with a pretty little smile, glasses, and a way of playing her fingers over each other.
The intervening years had been good to her. She’s filled out in the chest and hips, and her hair and darkened a shade or two. Now it was excellently styled, and the pale purple dress suited her perfectly.
She saw him, and raised an eyebrow. She clearly had no similar problems recognizing him. “Arthur Sloane. You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Ghost of Christmas Future, maybe.” He tilted his fedora back with a thumb. “Little Jane Cooper. If it ain’t you in the flesh.”
She laughed; it was a more practiced, rich laugh than the light, almost girlish one he remembered. “Aren’t you sweet, Mr. Sloane.”
He leaned on the lunch counter. “I try. You want to get a drink sometime, Miss Cooper?”
“Afraid I’m spoken for,” she said, then patted his cheek. “But it’s good to see you.” And then she left.
(- Merry Happy, Kate Nash)
He remembered playing stickball in the street.
It hadn’t been a great neighborhood, no, but it had been a good enough one that the kids still played in it.
He’d been a little scrawny as a kid, but fast. He and Danny… the guys. Ted, Johnny, Rodger, even sometimes the sportier girls if they were short. Nancy had a deceptively powerful swing, he remembered.
Arthur wasn’t much of a one for nostalgia. But there had been a time when problems were simple. When the family had been happy, more often than not. When he knew he’d be called in for supper at six, as surely as he knew the sun would rise the next day.
He had wanted that for Danny, if not for himself. He wasn’t exactly the family type, after all, but…
He turned up his collar. Kitty had left some roses by the headstone recently; they weren’t even covered in snow yet.
Wherever Danny was, he hoped it was someplace where dinner was at six.
(- Mercedes, Gankutsuou OST)
She wasn’t talking to anyone.
Arthur knew things had been bad for a long time. He knew first hand.
But he couldn’t give up hope altogether. Call it a character flaw.
He brought her flowers. He showed her the light outside the window.
And finally, he half dragged her out of the house. Though she resisted him at first, she wasn’t going to hold out against a beautiful day in the country forever. She wasn’t as shut up inside as all that, for all she was hurting and trying to pull away.
He knew her better than that.
And she might be his author, but she was also his best friend. If anyone could use some hope…
Well. She knew he wasn’t a hero. But he was a stubborn bastard all the same. And he’d be damned if he didn’t get her to smile before the end of the day.
(- Dear Prudence, Across the Universe OST)
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Date: 2010-02-06 07:57 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-06 04:06 pm (UTC)