Fic: Deux Mondes
So. My (woefully non-lj) friend Morgan and I have made fanfiction history, and I wish to share our genius with you. We totally co-wrote a drabble. And are so planning to do more because it's more fun than you'd think. :D
This drabble owes its life to our great love, Fiction Alley's OTP generator.
She wrote the normal text and I wrote the italics, then we edited the other's parts. The result is a strange mixture of both our styles - hers is straight-forward and flowing, and I can't break away from Romanticism for the life of me. *hides her well-loved copy of Complete Works of Edgar Allan Poe*
Anyhow, knock yourself out, world.
Title: Deux Mondes
Summary: They are both men of politics.
Disclaimer: We're sixteen-year-old high school students - our lives don't even belong to us.
Rating: PG, for manlove.
Pairing: Rufus Scrimgeour/The Prime Minister
Words: 100
Nighttime, magic. He'd never believed, not even as a child.
He believes in the darkness. Children’s minds weaving shadows into nightmares. Unredeemable, depraved souls.
Faerie stories. Ha! Faeries! What would his colleagues think of him now?
Were the world so idyllic, he wouldn’t - would not - have come.
A wizard walking out of his fireplace and into his bed?
Assumed a gossamer world of dream-spun faeries and stardust. So childlike.
A warm, lithe body sprawled over him. Unexpected, unprepared, unexplainable.
Magic. Faerie. Wizard. Unexplainable.
Muggle. Innocent, unknowing. The darkness gathers.
This was impossible. Warmly surreal, coldly amazing. Beautiful.
Nighttime. Magic.
I had to stay up last night to finish outlining a chapter on the Middle Passage for History. I fell asleep and had a dream I was on the Titanic, and everything felt so real. I kissed my friends goodbye. I woke up randomly in the middle of it all and looked at the clock. It was 3:48 a.m. Being a history whore, I know the Titanic sank at 2:05 a.m. on the 15th of April, 1912. I spent a good five minutes thinking I was dead, another five wondering why I seemed to be alive, and then I realised I had been dreaming. Am I going insane? Ah, it was an interesting experience. :P
This drabble owes its life to our great love, Fiction Alley's OTP generator.
She wrote the normal text and I wrote the italics, then we edited the other's parts. The result is a strange mixture of both our styles - hers is straight-forward and flowing, and I can't break away from Romanticism for the life of me. *hides her well-loved copy of Complete Works of Edgar Allan Poe*
Anyhow, knock yourself out, world.
Title: Deux Mondes
Summary: They are both men of politics.
Disclaimer: We're sixteen-year-old high school students - our lives don't even belong to us.
Rating: PG, for manlove.
Pairing: Rufus Scrimgeour/The Prime Minister
Words: 100
Nighttime, magic. He'd never believed, not even as a child.
He believes in the darkness. Children’s minds weaving shadows into nightmares. Unredeemable, depraved souls.
Faerie stories. Ha! Faeries! What would his colleagues think of him now?
Were the world so idyllic, he wouldn’t - would not - have come.
A wizard walking out of his fireplace and into his bed?
Assumed a gossamer world of dream-spun faeries and stardust. So childlike.
A warm, lithe body sprawled over him. Unexpected, unprepared, unexplainable.
Magic. Faerie. Wizard. Unexplainable.
Muggle. Innocent, unknowing. The darkness gathers.
This was impossible. Warmly surreal, coldly amazing. Beautiful.
Nighttime. Magic.
I had to stay up last night to finish outlining a chapter on the Middle Passage for History. I fell asleep and had a dream I was on the Titanic, and everything felt so real. I kissed my friends goodbye. I woke up randomly in the middle of it all and looked at the clock. It was 3:48 a.m. Being a history whore, I know the Titanic sank at 2:05 a.m. on the 15th of April, 1912. I spent a good five minutes thinking I was dead, another five wondering why I seemed to be alive, and then I realised I had been dreaming. Am I going insane? Ah, it was an interesting experience. :P