(no subject)

[trace_of_scarlet]

I totes meant to post this last night, but forgotted. D: Also alas_a_llama forgot to remind me. *dramaticpoint!*

So! Give me two characters and a prompt, and I'll drabble about them.

Eric gets moar choices, by way of allowing him retribution for my spamming his memepost with ideas and not following the memerules.

Lulz.

*flees for lecture!*

Comments

[alas-a-llama.livejournal.com]

Okays, so you gave me five (lulzfive), so:

Atton Rand, Sam Linnfer - football.

Molly Hayes, Gert Yorkes - rebelling.

Atton, Sam and Meda - cooking.

OlderMolly and Guppy - immaturity.

And for darkfic (darkfic is dark!): Atton and Sam - prisoners.

Sam and Atton -- Football

[bethan-b-bad.livejournal.com]

(Er, this is a bit big. And the quality's a bit dubious. Sorry?)

Sam had never really paid much attention to football – it was just one of those odd things large gangs of mortals seemed to like, spending whole evenings in the pouring rain inexplicably managing to enjoy themselves.

So when some genius came up with the idea of a Milliways football match (all the Lucifers against all the angels), he found himself stuck attempting to learn the rules in about half an hour, from a book Bar produced called Football For Dummies.

The combined Lucifers found themselves with an even worse problem when they discovered that they were one short of a full team. Sam went to see Atton, who reacted exactly as expected.

“No!”

Sam flailed at him. “Come on, please? We need someone else, and you’d be good!”

“But I don’t know the rules!” Atton pointed out, flailing back at him.

“Me neither!”

“And- and--” He scrabbled for another reason. “I’m not a Lucifer! I don’t count!”

“But you’re evil!” Sam shot back with a grin. “Even more evil than I am.”

“No!”

“Pleeeeeeeease.” Puppy-dog eyes. “Please, Atton? I’ll be really grateful, go on.”

Atton sighed. “You’d better be.”

~

Atton was quite good, as it turned out; he was actually rather better than Sam, which was slightly embarrassing. He was exceptionally good at the really nasty variety of sliding tackles, which would probably have got him sent off several times over had the referee not inexplicably failed to turn up. Rumours that Sharpe had been scared off were totally unfounded, naturally.

Unfortunately, the last time he tried this, he managed to miss his target and instead go careening into Sam, sending them both rolling over in the mud until they crashed to a halt in front of a cheering Ace, the pair of them utterly filthy.

Atton peered down at Sam, sprawled beneath him, attempting an ingratiating grin. “So, you know how you said you’d be really really grateful, right...”

Sam gave him a slightly-exasperated look. “I suppose.”

So at the end of the match (Lucifers 666, Angels 0, naturally, and nobody could ever figure out who’d hexed the scoreboard to stick that way), nobody seemed to be too surprised when Sam and Atton disappeared into the showers.

They didn’t come out for some time.

Re: Sam and Atton -- Football

[alas-a-llama.livejournal.com]

This? Is awesome.

Re: Sam and Atton -- Football

[necessary_child]

:D