Drabbles

[wordmiser]

Each drabble was prompted by someone, and has been added as a comment!

if you desire one to be written, leave a comment with whatever prompt you like, and it will be answered... eventually. Hopefully sooner rather than later.


1. Four Minutes (to save the world)
2. the perfect painting
3. with bells on

Comments

Four Minutes (to save the world)

[wordmiser.livejournal.com]

4:00

She hated the Boss-Man.

Why was this her job. This was a stupid, boring, saving people job. It was always such a disappointment when he felt the need to root for the white hats.

They ruined all the best art.

She'd tried to tell him. Had shook her head 'no' in that slow, lazy way of hers. Had almost spoken out loud. It hadn't been quite worth that, though

3:00

And now, here she was, carrying the bloody bomb that he's making her phase into a bank vault.

A bank vault.

She means, really, is that supposed to help anyone? No. No it wasn't. Because this vault had a faulty door. Which he would know, if Boss-Man ever listened to her. Which he didn't.

Possibly because she never bothered to say anything.

2:00

But really, why should she have to be the one to talk? To say something stupid, and let everyone make fun of her.

Jinx was too damn proud for that, and they could kiss her ass. Their mean little ears didn't deserve her words, anyway. Not a one of them. Usually.

And really, how far into the building was this vault? It's so far away... why doesn't she just... y'know. Stick her hand in the thing, and jumble up its insides. Nothing worked right when you jumbled up its insides.

1:00

Finally.

Wait.

Why was the door open? What's this bullshit, come on now, seriously? You didn't lock it? What do they mean it's stuck open?

Oh, geezus. She doesn't want to do this. Who wants to get blown up? Phasing doesn't really work that way.

Okay, come on Jinx, you can do this. It's just a silly little bomb. Mix up its insides, you'll be fine.

0:20

Her hand slips in easily, but the insides of a bomb are nothing like a person. She's relatively sure there's a trigger in there.

Just... breathe. Boss-Man wouldn't send her to die, right? Right. She won't die. Everything's going to be fine.

So she moves her finger.

0:00

the perfect painting

[wordmiser.livejournal.com]

It was icy outside, her exhale making a white could before her face. It wasn’t set to snow, though. That was good. Snow ruined things - not like rain, of course, but bad enough. With the world this perfectly icy, preservation would be good. This piece of art would last.

Not forever, of course, but Jinx liked to think that the best art was transitory. Temporary. It was the impact left on the mind that mattered.

She couldn’t remember the first time she had made art. It felt so long ago. But she remembered the feeling. Knowing that this, art, was what she wanted to do for the rest of her life. Every day, every moment, every breath. She dreamt it, lived it, sometime drank it - but only sometimes (the metallic taste left on her tongue tended to dissuade too much drinking).

Perfection was difficult, though. She knew it was out there, and if it was out there it was achievable. Art... was in the little imperfection. The way red wouldn’t get painted over cobblestones just right. The way organs were never symmetrical, really.Looking was half the fun....

Someday, she knew, Jinx would find perfection in a painting. She dearly hoped it wouldn’t mean an end to her art.

with bells on

[wordmiser.livejournal.com]

Life with the Boss Man wasn’t always easy. Something about the temper or the jobs or... Actually. He was pretty good to her.

She only got thinking this way when he kept her cooped up, stuck inside with no play or art to entertain her. Time to sneak out, maybe, get her fingers wet.

...Maybe he’d pay attention if she got in a bit of trouble. Attention wasn’t so bad.

Not the brightest plan, but it made her happy. Leaving the body dumped for someone else to deal with, she skipped home feeling light and free as a feather.

That didn’t last as long as she would have liked, with the Boss Man up and waiting for her when she wandered in. The bells fell off her day faster than an April shower.