need soemthing to do

[csi_sanders1129]

The first TEN people to comment in this post get to request that I write a drabble of any pairing/character of their choosing. In return, they have to post this in their journal, regardless of their ability level. (If you absolutely can't write, maybe find a creative alternative?) (Only if you want to and haven't already.)

Thoughts From Me: Please write the pairing/fandom, and a prompt if you feel like leaving one. I will do it all, if I know the fandom (if I don't I will give it a shot but don't expect it to be perfect or anything.)

1. BWoC, Tommy/Merton - whatyoulove
2. GH, Dante/Johnny - kira_bouvier
3. Psych, Shawn/Lassiter - dark_dreymer
4. Losers, Cougar/Jensen - cynic_fic
5. GH, Jason/Spinelli - suerum
6. Zombieland, Tallahassee/Columbus - suerum
7. GH, Johnny/Michael - radrcks
8.
9.
10.

Comments

Inevitable (I dunno why I went with second-person... xD)

[csi-sanders1129.livejournal.com]

Tallahassee hasn’t spoken to you in three days. Won’t even look at you or acknowledge that you exist. This is exceptionally annoying now that it’s just the two of you, now that Wichita and Little Rock have run off on their own again. So, you ramble on at the windshield as you drive through ruined town after ruined town, with no real destination in mind.

“You know, you should really be at least kind of grateful, asshole. I saved your life and all and this is the thanks I get? The silent treatment? Really, Florida, how old are you? Six? Jeez. At least a ‘thank you’, but no…”

Tallahassee ignores you, stares out the passenger’s side window as nothing passes by. You’re in Bumfuck, Nowhere now, driving through field after field of overgrown crops.

“What the fuck were you doing, running in there unarmed, anyway? I thought I was the mindless idiot here, after all.”

“You are, trust me.” The older man gripes at you, and you don’t even care that it’s an insult because it’s something and you were starting to worry that he was actually going to keep this stupidity up. “Now stop talkin’ about it.”

“Why? When you save my ass you brag about it and never let me go off on my own again for weeks.”

Tallahassee just grunts and nods toward the windshield you’re not looking out of anymore.”Zombie.” He says, when you don’t react, though he doesn’t look terribly concerned.

“What?”

“Zombie.” He repeats, but you’re more or less already on the thing and all you can really do is swerve to the side and he takes great pleasure in opening his door and clubbing the once-human. And just like that, you’re moving again because that’s just life in Zombieland.

“God, why are you so phenomenally pissed off about this?” You ask again, because Florida has successfully managed to avoid answering your question.

“Why do ya think, spitfuck?” He answers, and again you chose to see the brightside. Yeah, he’s yelling at you – and it’s not like that’s abnormal behavior or anything, anyway – but at least he’s talking now. “How about ‘cause I’m supposed to protect your sorry ass, huh?”

You snort in disbelief at such ridiculous claims. But Tallahassee’s eyes narrow at you and he turns away again and then you kind of regret being a jerk about it.

“Look, kid.” He says. “I lost Buck. The girls are gone, maybe for good this time. You’re all I got left, as pathetic as that is, so it’s my job to protect you, got it? Not the other way ‘round.”
“I had the situation under control.” You say, in your own defense even though it’s… not entirely true. “I didn’t need help, I was fine. You put yourself in danger for me for no reason at all.”

Tallahassee laughs. “No reason? You were screwed. I knew you were outta ammo, s’why I came in in the first place, ‘cause I saw you took the wrong gun, you brainless moron.”

“And throwing yourself at a bunch of rabid zombies was going to help how, exactly? What makes you think I want to be wandering around Zombieland alone? What if you got biten? You want me to have to be the one to shoot you or hit you with a car door going 70 miles an hour?”

“And what if you got bit?” He counters you, valid point that is.

“…It’s going to happen to one of us eventually.” You remind him. It’s inevitable, really, that one or both of you will get attacked by something you can’t beat. There’s no way it can be avoided forever, not unless the zombie-epidemic is ended and quarantined or otherwise done away with and that doesn’t seem like a highly probable event.

“If I can help it, it won’t be you.” Tallahassee mumbles out and you just barely catch the words. “Pull over, lemme drive.”

Excellent vignette

[suerum.livejournal.com]

This was a wonderfully realized little slice of life in Zombieland. Tallahasse sulking, them speeding along taking out the odd zombie and the story unrolling as they go. A lovely and delicate delineation of the relationship between the two of them and Tallahasse's unquenchable need to be the protector, to make absolutely sure that Columbus' survives no matter what befalls him in the process. Also, I can't remember the last time I read something written in the second person, it was intriguing.