Yay. <3 Seito said I could do a drabble thingu, too! I'm so happy~ I really wanted to try this when I saw her thread. *3* <3

Um! I don't expect feedback, but I would be so elated to get some! Yay! Even if they're negative, I'd still appreciate that you've taken the time to read it. Unless, y'know, you didn't read it. Then I'd be sad and confused as to why you would bother to comment. 8D Hehehe!

The purpose of my thread is to get my created juices flowing, so that I can keep working on my comic script. Uoo! It's also for character development, since my story is focused upon the complexity of human emotions and human psychology. It also revolves around death, but that's going to be an underlying/secondary theme in this 100 themes drabble.

So, as you can see, character development is very important! So I must practice, practice, practice! Whoo!

My 100 themes list. Completed themes will be in bold, and will also include characters as well as the drabble number.

1. Coordination (Drabble 2 ; Atticus Doon, Rosita Doon )
2. Experiment
3. Prisoner (Drabble 1 ; Cain, Lucifer )
4. Pour
5. Shot
6. Copycat (Drabble 3 ; Touza Soichiro, Ansel Lehr, Joseph )
7. Scatter
8. Encounter
9. Carrot
10. Shed
11. Interrupt
12. Swallow
13. Progress
14. Target
15. Home
16. Fan
17. Scratching
18. Evening
19. Frown
20. Test
21. Time
22. Event
23. Soap
24. Slip
25. Worthy
26. Spending
27. Spell
28. Eyesight
29. Experience
30. Profit
31. Award
32. Label
33. Straw
34. Edit
35. Intimate
36. Act
37. Bonus
38. Resolve
39. Bear
40. Suicide
41. Tobacco
42. Wolf
43. Monitor
44. Introduction
45. Crime
46. Support
47. Drivel
48. Accused
49. Morality
50. Scheme
51. Conflict
52. Lit
53. Embarrassment
54. Chamber
55. Breath
56. Vegetable
57. Concrete
58. Shoot
59. Scene
60. Decision
61. String
62. Stunt
63. Comment
64. Hate
65. Prize
66. Obscurity
67. Influence
68. Existence
69. Hum
70. Drink
71. Charity
72. Closure
73. Moral
74. Birthday
75. Push
76. Transfer
77. Pigeon
78. Neat
79. Cruise
80. Prayer
81. Spirit
82. Weight
83. Stall
84. Last
85. Novel
86. Start
87. Violence
88. Talent
89. Harmony
90. Serve
91. Poverty
92. Boredom
93. Unemployment
94. Identity
95. Creep
96. Life
97. Coin
98. God
99. Discard
100. Teacher

Drabble 1: #3. Prisoner
Characters: Cain, Lucifer

He tilted his head up to gaze into the midnight sky, eyeing the taunting moon hiding behind the shampoo billboard sign. Suddenly, his face contorted and he hissed, thrusting his foot out and striking the empty soda can littered in front of him. It clattered noisily and sped into the concrete wall, where it bounced and rolled to a halt atop a pile of old newspapers.

Cain tore his eyes from the moon and glared down at his hands. A ratty rag lay wound inexperiencedly around the palm of his hand, where the dark tint of blood colored the poor excuse of a bandage. The glare in his eyes grew softer.

He hadn't taken that bandage off in years. It smelled of rotting flesh and old blood, and, even so, he couldn't bear to change the dressings. It was his only memory of the one he loved-- the only memory with which he held dear and precious to him.

Cain brought his hand up and carressed the bandage across his cheek, taking in the scent that was fragrant only to him. It had been countless years since he saw that kind and gentle smile from that heartless fiend. He knew that as Lucifer dressed his cursed hand those many years ago, that bastard offered him a smile and whispered words that struck the very core of his being:

"I choose to belong only to you."

And through his naivete and loneliness, Cain found himself believing those very words that caused him so much pain and torture.

He clenched his hand and rammed it into the wall, grating his knuckles into the coarse brick. Even after the lies and beatings, the insults and degrading, that unsurmountable longing to see Lucifer's kind and gentle smile once more kept him bound to that foolish wish. His hand slipped down the wall, his skin as tattered as the dressing.

Cain looked back up into the sky, up into the mystic glow of the waning moon. He knew that even after all that hell he went through because of that man, he didn't mind being a slave to him. He knew that he didn't mind knowing that he would be nothing more than a pawn to the man who promised his entire being to him. After all, he was already a prisoner of that meaningless rag.

EDIT:
Hurrr, indents don't work... :B

Oh my Gawsh! That was beautiful! I loved the way you showed Cain's emotions, and the words were all well used and the details are amazing. The writing style and the execution was flawless and very, very emotional, and with such few words you captured the idea and made it... Different, in a way. :D Very nice. 4.5/5 <333

:D I hope to see more!!! >w<

:'D Uwa, thank you so much, Starrii! <3


Hm, this one isn't really #1 Coordination than it is #53 Embarrassment. x3; Ah well...

--

Drabble 2: #1. Coordination
Characters: Atticus Doon, Rosita Doon

"One, two, three! One, two, three!"

They spun in elegant yet monotonous circles, the lilting music of Johann Strauss Jr. echoing in their great white room. His working shoes scuffed rhythmically against the wooden floors and her flip-flops made dainty clicks as they swayed and spun with grace equal only to other novices.

"Stay -- in -- beat! One, two, thr-- kyaaah!"

A string of foreign curses slipped through her chapped lips as she leaned forward into her husband's strong chest, a weary hand pawing at the crook of her back. She snapped her head up to look at him, her black eyes flashing. "You lead me into the table!"

"Well, what did you expect?" he retorted irritably, averting his eyes onto the wall beside him. "You were the one who wanted to dance in the dining room."

His wife's nails dug into his shoulder. "You're supposed to make sure we don't hit anything! That's what the guy does! He leads!"

"Rosi, how do you expect me to make sure we don't hit anything when there's hardly enough room to eat here? You're asking for the impossible."

Rosita gingerly stepped back, running a hand down through her tangled black hair. "If you didn't look like such a fool at the last party, Atticus,"-- she tossed her nose up into the air, still glaring at her nonchalant husband-- "then maybe I wouldn't need to be giving you dancing lessons! It's too costly to go find a professional teacher, anyway. We'd probably even get charged extra for the foot injuries you'd cause to the teacher."

Atticus kept his eyes averted and his lips pursed, but Rosita knew that from all the years she and Atticus had been together, his right eye would always squint just a little bit whenever he was embarrassed. A calculated smile found itself onto her face as she brushed non-existant lint off her husband's work shirt.

"Ohhh, did you see how you looked at that party, Atticus? It was so sad. You should have heard what everyone was saying about you." Rosita clicked her tongue and leaned forward, gazing up past his glasses and into Atticus's seemingly emotionless black eyes. Sure enough, that eye was scrunching.

Rosita let out a chuckle and threw her arms around her husband, standing up on tip-toes just to reach his shoulders. "They said, 'Oh, the poor guy! He might be a doctor, but I don't think any amount of surgery can fix that!' And Ms Carena even began praying, saying things like, 'God take pity on this poor, unfortunate soul!' and 'How embarrassing!' And did you see what your children looked like when you--"

Suddenly, the husband unwound himself from the claws of his wife and picked up a coat. "I'm going to be late," he muttered, his voice heavy and laden with annoyance as he swung the coat around him.

Rosita smiled wickedly and brought her arms akimbo, watching Atticus stumble out the door. As he slipped on the second step of the stairs-- as he always did-- she laughed and cooed, "Have a nice day at work, honey! I love you!"

I'm so going to have to do the drabble thing too since I've not written in over a year and a half and my poor novel and characters are so neglected. It would be a great brainstorming thing and would help me get back into the whole flow of it. Yeah! I may try to discipline myself to do one a day here or something!

Anyhow, great drabbles so far! Your writing is very expressive - it really brings the scene to life. I have to say, after reading the second one, it made me really not like Rosi. She didn't know when to stop and it's like when she saw Atticus's embarrassment, it just egged her on. What a mean woman!

But great writing!

Uwo, thanks so much! And good luck with the drabbles! It's so much fun to be able to think up of scenarios and things!

X'D Haha, yes, Rosita is mean like that, but Atticus loves her anyway. Atticus used to be pretty mean himself when he was younger, but he grew up and changed in a way that he didn't like-- and out of all the ladies, he picked Rosita because he sees part of his own youthful days in her.

I will edit this to fit accordingly with Drabble 3! O:

This is long. x'''''D AAAH, TANGENTS!


Drabble 3: #6. Copycat
Characters: Touza Soichiro, Ansel Lehr, Joseph

"Hamu~~! Anpan, you're so warm and soft."

The red-headed young man clung lovingly onto his friend's waist, burying his face into the old flannel shirt he wore. “You smell like,“-- he paused and took a deep sniff-- “mm, fresh laundry!”

A spark of discomfort jolted through his friend's body, from the crook of his back where the cold air from the red-head's inhaling tickled his skin, to his pallid but now rosy face. A curly blonde strand of hair even popped out of its place from his headband as the jolt surged through him.

"D-Don't do that! Let go; I have to put these in the fridge before they spoil, Touza."

Sitting with his knees up to his chest upon the living room's red couch, Joseph's blue eyes slowly set on the struggling duo, the bordem in his eyes lifting and giving way to fascination and curiousity.

The pretty boy Ansel fidgeted nervously at the feel of Touza's warm breath on the square of his back, still somehow managing to balance in one arm three bags of that week's groceries and a stack of bills and magazines in the other. Stubbornly, Touza clung tighter and shook his head fervently, letting out a loud, muffled whine of unsatisfaction.

“Let go!”

"Hamu~~!"

Joseph kept staring, his toes curling and uncurling upon the fuzzy fabric of the couch. The two wrestled in the dining room-- or rather, Ansel tried to wriggle his way out and Touza kicked like a branded horse, both howling cantankerously.

"Ansel... Touza," Joseph started, bringing his knees closer to his chest. He hesitated for a moment, waiting nervously for them to stop bickering and to listen to him. It became apparent that they had no intention of stopping. Joseph murmured something low and timidly, his eyes shifting back and forth anxiously towards the ground and back to the two of them.

But his statement was left completely ignored-- drowned out by the cresendoing scuffle. He carefully put down the picture book he had been looking through onto the floor and stood up.

"Mouu, Anpan!" Touza whined, shutting his eyes tight as he held steadfast onto his friend. "That's not fair! Rotan always gets to hug you-- what about me? Why can't I hug you?"

"Because I don't want people touching me," Ansel snarled. "Let go of
me, goddammit!"

Finally, Touza's grip was starting to slip. He let out a loud whine and let his hands drop from his friend's waist. With clenched fists, his bottom lip trembled and from his shining brown eyes came tears which clouded his vision.

"A-Anpan--! Anpan--!" He hiccuped between sobs, taking harder, more gasping breaths. Touza's face wrenched tightly as he echoed, 'Anpan' over and over again, his voice rising in pitch at each hiccup. Ansel scowled in disgust before letting out a sneer as he set the groceries onto the table.

"Anpan!... A-Anpan!"

"That doesn't work on me, Touza."

"A-Anpan! Y-You're so cruel--!"

"Say all you want, cry all you want! I don't care."

Touza let out a loud, mournful wail, and before he was about to engage into a full blown tantrum--

"Ha-- Hamu!"

-- came Joseph's embarrassed squeak.

The boy was clinging to Touza, his cheeks and ears flushed red with embarrassment. "H.. Ha... Hamu?" he echoed again, keeping his eyes averted towards the ground. His feet scuffled clumsily against each other. "D-Did I say it right?"

Both Touza and Ansel were silent for a moment. Joseph shuffled nervously, the color in his face blooming into a richer shade of red. It wasn't often Joseph tried to do anything in the house, let alone try to communicate with his roommates; in fact, since that incident, he had been keeping to himself the past month and a half, isolated in his room and staring at picture books that Emeric had brought home for him to peruse...

Suddenly, Touza let out a piercing squeal and flambouyantly latched himself onto the startled boy. "Yes, yes! Hamu! You said it right, Jo-Jo!" He clung back to Joseph, a huge smile plastered on his face and his eyes shimmering like a mother hearing his baby speak for the first time. "Hamu! Hamu! Say it with me, okay! Hamu!"

"Hamu!" Joseph exclaimed a little more confidently, a timid smile etching itself onto his fair face.

Touza made a dramatic swooning motion, lifting a hand to shield against his eyes from the radiance of Joseph's cuteness and innocence. "Ohhh, Jo-Jo, you're too cute! You're so smart, too!"

Ansel frowned before turning back to the groceries he had left to sort, letting out a weary sigh escape his lips. Now that 'hamu' -- whatever the hell that was-- was part of Joseph's vocabulary, he would never hear the end of it until someone like Emeric or Atticus would take the time to help him un-learn it. It was like that time Joseph had picked up swear words and cursed like a pirate at every utterance he made. God knows where he got that language...

"Hamu!"

Suddenly, arms were wrapped around him again, but they weren't the usual dark-skinned arms of the hyperactive brat named 'Touza'. Instead it was Joseph, looking up at him and beaming like a child. Another pair of arms wound around him and Ansel soon found himself, to his disdain, trapped in the middle of a hug between the two boys.

I loved the Cain and Lucifer one. . . : D You probably know one of the main reasons. >.>;; But it was. . . it was cute. In a sort of demented way. You should. . . add more to add. xD

Funny. I had a character named Anshel. Dx He was killed by his brother, who was the reincarnation of Cain. Oooh. Spooky coincidence.

Awesome drabbles. Drabble 1 is my favorite so far, very good and amazing.