drabblets
Right. Around Christmas, I sent out some drabbles to people. Er, one real drabble and two almost-nearly-but-not-quite drabbles (both slightly over the 100-word thing). So. Now that several months have passed, I might as well post 'em. Yes.
"Hasty" - Merry/Pippin
Fangorn slept, as it had for an age. The trees rarely roused themselves anymore, preferring the silence of the forest, its deep shadows and golden pools, to the chaos of the world outside. The business of lesser creatures was no more interesting than the beetles that ran along their branches.
A sharp cry split the heavy peace of the trees. "Merry, I want--!"
A low chuckle. "Haven't you learned anything from Treebeard? Don't be hasty, Pip."
The trees stirred slightly, amused. As they settled back into slumber, they could hear a soft sigh, like a gentle wind rustling their leaves.
*
"Pretty" - Dom/Elijah
Dom isn't ready for Elijah's hot breath against his lips, for the hands pressed firmly to his shoulders, shoving him up against the wall. He isn't ready for the predatory glint in those too-blue eyes. He never expected this.
"Why me?" Dom breathes.
Elijah's lips twist into a smirk. "Orlando was too pretty," he whispers, tracing Dom's jawline with a pale finger. "I couldn't take the competition."
Dom stares at him, transfixed by the crystal flashes of his eyes, his smooth, delicate skin. Elijah's right. No mere mortal could press his flawed body up against this obscene perfection, mar it with his uncultured touch.
When Elijah kisses him, Dom closes his eyes.
*
"While Visions of Sugar Plums" - Dom/Billy
"It's over," Dom says, staring at the winking lights of the Rockefeller Center tree.
Billy leans over the rail. A few intrepid skaters are still making their way around the rink. "Yeah."
"Really over."
"I know."
"Billy?"
"Yes, Dom?"
"Who the hell manages to find a Christmas tree that huge every year?"
"I have no idea. It's pretty, though."
"Yeah. Billy?"
"What?"
"I don't want it to be over."
"Neither do I."
Dom glances around. No one seems interested in them at all. Well, it's nearly midnight. He leans over and presses his lips against Billy's. "Billy?" he whispers.
"Yes?"
"What do sugar plums taste like?"
"I don't know. Why?"
Dom smiles. "Never mind."
*
'kay, done now.
"Hasty" - Merry/Pippin
Fangorn slept, as it had for an age. The trees rarely roused themselves anymore, preferring the silence of the forest, its deep shadows and golden pools, to the chaos of the world outside. The business of lesser creatures was no more interesting than the beetles that ran along their branches.
A sharp cry split the heavy peace of the trees. "Merry, I want--!"
A low chuckle. "Haven't you learned anything from Treebeard? Don't be hasty, Pip."
The trees stirred slightly, amused. As they settled back into slumber, they could hear a soft sigh, like a gentle wind rustling their leaves.
*
"Pretty" - Dom/Elijah
Dom isn't ready for Elijah's hot breath against his lips, for the hands pressed firmly to his shoulders, shoving him up against the wall. He isn't ready for the predatory glint in those too-blue eyes. He never expected this.
"Why me?" Dom breathes.
Elijah's lips twist into a smirk. "Orlando was too pretty," he whispers, tracing Dom's jawline with a pale finger. "I couldn't take the competition."
Dom stares at him, transfixed by the crystal flashes of his eyes, his smooth, delicate skin. Elijah's right. No mere mortal could press his flawed body up against this obscene perfection, mar it with his uncultured touch.
When Elijah kisses him, Dom closes his eyes.
*
"While Visions of Sugar Plums" - Dom/Billy
"It's over," Dom says, staring at the winking lights of the Rockefeller Center tree.
Billy leans over the rail. A few intrepid skaters are still making their way around the rink. "Yeah."
"Really over."
"I know."
"Billy?"
"Yes, Dom?"
"Who the hell manages to find a Christmas tree that huge every year?"
"I have no idea. It's pretty, though."
"Yeah. Billy?"
"What?"
"I don't want it to be over."
"Neither do I."
Dom glances around. No one seems interested in them at all. Well, it's nearly midnight. He leans over and presses his lips against Billy's. "Billy?" he whispers.
"Yes?"
"What do sugar plums taste like?"
"I don't know. Why?"
Dom smiles. "Never mind."
*
'kay, done now.