Hello all! A sick one year old with a wicked infection has prevented me from commenting sooner. Y'all rock, by the way. Thanks for all the entries! The Summer of Drabble has commenced!
Bellalocke: Thanks so much for kicking us off! I love how your drabbles felt interconnected, like we were seeing Willow and Tara at different stages of their life together. I also particularly liked this line:
Quote:
“If we kiss right now, it can't be just once.”
Kate: You. Are. Certifiable. Three a day?! Way to up the stakes! Lots of work for you, but hey we reap the benefits! Sidenote: the original challenge I modeled this after called for the drabble to be written and completed in
the time it took the song to play. Care to up the ante?
Loved this:
Quote:
Food was too much. Too date-like. Food came after coffee. Kisses and gay love came after food. They did before, and they could now. Coffee, then food, then kisses, then girlfriends.
and this:
Quote:
Tara knew she should deal with the pieces first. To look at them and decide if there was enough left to make a whole. She didn't care. She would make new parts if the old ones weren't enough.
I love the moments you chose to use for your second set. You fleshed them out so well, adding more perspective to what we actually saw on the show. I love when authors do that.
angieb86:Quote:
I watched her put my panties in her back pocket. “Baby. . .What’re you doing?”
She just smiled at me. “I like keeping a part of you with me.”
and
Quote:
I laughed as she straddled my waist and held my arms above me. “Are your insides rainy now?”
“I’m leaking like a faucet, love. . .”
SQUEEEEEEEE!
vampyregurl73: My first love is vidding, which is actually where this challenge comes from. Whenever I'd hear a song I liked, I'd visualize scenes from movies or shows, and how the music would enhance those moments.
Rockets totally does that for me . . . I hear the pounding of the bass line and that guitar riff and I can see how perfectly it fits with the scene you created. Pure swagger, liquid sex. Love it.
Mrs. Pineapple: Inspiration is my fav here. Like Heather's
Rockets, I can see and feel how the song influenced this drabble. "Because" is lofty and it soars and it's this mystical journey through love. I particularly liked:
Quote:
It was the story of their lives, a poem she found herself constantly rewriting. And she would always keep on writing. Inspiration was never far away.
. . . and how it ties in with the lyrics "Love is old, love is new/Love is all, love is you." Great stuff, man.
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Kate's crazy 'challenge within a challenge' got my muse knockin'. Bad taste to enter my own challenge? Hope not.
Now, I'm not going to say I'm throwing my hat into the ring for entire duration of the three a day challenge . . . I'll do my best, time permitting, so let's say I'll throw in my sock. I'm a day behind, so I'm doubling up the drabbei (sounds cooler than drabbles, no?)
To Make You Feel My Love - Adele
When the rain Is blowing in your face
And the whole world is on your case
I could offer you a warm embrace
To make you feel my love
Tara’s calmness was unsettling.
“Shouldn’t you be freaking out like everyone else?” Dawn scoffed.
“Is that what you want?” Tara questioned lightly, tending to the large gash on the teenager’s hand.
“I’m not
real."
"It doesn’t matter," Tara spoke gently. "What matters is that you exist. Here. With all of us." She placed a bandage on the wound before looking at the young girl. "You’re so much more than real, Dawnie,” she continued. ”You’re human. You hurt. You feel. You even bleed,” she nodded towards her hand with a small smile. “If that doesn’t make you human, then nothing will.”
I know you haven't made your mind up yet
But I would never do you wrong
I've known it from the moment That we met
No doubt in my mind where you belong
“Because I don’t know how to tell you!”
“Tell me what?”
Just say it, Willow. It’s okay.“I . . . it’s not . . . you’ll . . .” Willow stumbled over her words. The anguish on her face was palpable, and tears were beginning to line the corners of her eyes, threatening to spill down her cheeks.
Tara couldn’t take it anymore.
Grasping the loose fabric of Willow’s shirt, Tara pulled her close and captured her lips, overwhelmed by the need to express her feelings in a way that words would never be strong enough to convey.
“I know, Willow,” she murmured when they parted. “I know.”
I could make you happy, make your dreams come true
Nothing that I wouldn't do
Go to the ends of the Earth for you
To make you feel my love
This was not how it was supposed to be. It wasn’t supposed to be a flurry of discarded clothes, fumbling hands and sloppy kisses.
Too fast. We’re going . . . too fast. Willow’s brain caught up to her body, and with an ungodly amount of resolve she managed to stop herself.
“Tara . . .” Willow took a ragged breath. “We need to slow down,” she whispered. “I won’t be able to remember.” Tracing her thumb along Tara’s lips, she continued, “And I want to remember. Everything. Okay?”
A goofy, lop-sided grin slowly appeared on Tara’s face, and she nodded in assent.
“Okay,” Tara breathed.
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Struggle For Pleasure - Wim Mertens
No. It can’t be.Willow’s brain raced through the millions of imaginable outcomes, then calculated the probability that what just happened could indeed, in fact, happen.
What the frilly heck.Her brows furrowed, and a scowl lined her normally jovial face.
“I believe that belongs to me!” Willow’s companion squealed with glee. “And if you include these,” the woman indicated to three small pieces of red plastic adorning the narrow blue strip of the Boardwalk, “your bank, your houses, and your puny little railroads now belong to me too.”
“Told you not to play Monopoly with Anya.”
“Shut up, Tara.”
She ran. Down the dirt road, past the rusty old Chevy that had seen better days. Her feet relentlessly pummeled the ground beneath her.
A sharp left turn led her to a wheatfield, where her eyes found a familiar path carved amongst the tall golden stalks. The stitch in her side ignited her legs; the pain it created coupled with the burning in her chest still was not enough. Screaming, she pushed harder, desperate to feel anything besides the grief that was consuming her.
Finally, she collapsed, sobbing, realizing that nothing could take away the pain of losing her mother.
This is odd, Tara thought to herself. She looked at the scrap of paper in her hand, and glanced back at the number on the door.
Of all the places to meet, a practice room in the music department?She glanced around, listening to the loud cacophony of music filling the air. She caught the melodic tune of a piano playing before the door opened and a pair of hands yanked her into the tiny space.
“Is this your idea of romance?” she asked, as the same hands swiftly unbuttoned her jeans and cupped her sex.
“Nope,” Willow smirked. “Soundproofing.”