Masterlist: Three Sentence Ficathon
A little summary of the three-sentence-ficathon. Mainly a collection for me, so I can remember these amazing fills <3 Whereelse would I get Loki/Sansa? *-*
The 100, Abby/Marcus by me
It's the first time Abby feels the sun on her face, the first time she breathes real oxygen, and the air is filled with so many fragrances she wants to cry.
"We've made it," she says with an incredulous smile as Marcus stands next to her and also takes in the sight of nature that surrounds them.
"Yes, this is our new beginning; we've made it," he repeats, and Abby doesn't flinch back when he intertwines his fingers with hers and squeezes her hand.
Asoiaf, Dany/Viserys by shipperchan_dna
She was his by birth right, as family tradition dictated.
He would someday marry her and protect her from the Usurper and his lion, wolf and stag dogs.
They weren't children anymore, he would tell her soon about them escaping that Horse Worshiper and he would take the throne by her side.
Asoiaf, Jaime/Loras by me
He can’t help himself and lets his eyes wander to the other man’s lips, notices how luscious they are, how they manage to pout so lovely; he can’t help himself and evokes a memory from a time long since past, when these lips were sighing his name and closed around his -
“Ser Jamie, long time no see,” these lips say now with a smirk and bring him back to the present.
“Ser Loras … not long enough for my taste,” Jamie responds after a moment, turns his horse around and rides away to hide his blush, to silence his faster-beating heart.
Asoiaf, Sansa/Theon by tellshannon815
She was Ned’s daughter, Robb’s sister, effectively off limits to Theon.
Yet she was not his sister, which meant that the whole time Theon had grown up at Winterfell, he had been aware that other possibilities existed.
He watched from afar as Sansa was betrothed first to Joffrey, then to Ramsay, wondering if she would ever be his.
Batman, girl!Edward Ngyma by me
Edie walks in and smirks as all eyes turn towards her, her fabulous appearance shouting ‘No, I’m not dead, Batman has NOT beaten me as the rumor says’, and this is the moment the other villains will know that she is invincible, too smart to go down, with or without a boom.
The only boom here is her entrance, tight green dress complimenting her curves, purple high heels clicking on the floor, her red mane a contrast to her outfit for even more attention as it bounces with every step and leaves a trail of self-confidence.
She reaches the bar and orders a Martini, then turns around and checks the other villains how they check her, knowing that they’re mostly attracted to her looks and underestimate her brain as usual; but as usual she doesn’t care and uses this fact to her advantage: she’ll try each and every one of them, probe their potential to see who’s most useful to her - in each and every way - and then decides if there is one to meet her requirements and worthy to work for her or if this remains a one-woman-show; however the result will be, ‘I know I’ll have fun anyway,’ she thinks and sips her Martini.
Batman, Bruce/Harley by me Rocket Boots
"But you didn't even let me finish!"
"Well, what could possibly change my mind?"
"I'm sure they'll come in black?"
Buffy, Buffy by autumnia
"You must have made some kind of mistake: I asked for death but instead I’m awake"
She wished she could remember what Heaven was like but all that would come to her mortal mind were brief flashes of light and nothing else. Buffy hadn't been there long, just a few months according to Spike, but in that brief time she knew it was far better to be there than return to the world of the living even though her friends and family were still here.
Buffy, Buffy by iawenbemerry
"faceless in the crowd"
Los Angeles provided Buffy with the respite she was looking for after her battle with Angelus. She got a job as a waitress and a small apartment, and spent the summer living like she was normal. In L.A., she didn't stand out; she wasn't the one people looked to when they needed a savior; she wasn't the Chosen One; she wasn't the Slayer who had killed her true love.
As she stood looking at the stone where her name and epitaph were carved in remembrance, she thought bitterly of that old saying about how doing good deeds would invariably lead to better and harder ones and wondered if the Gods were playing a cruel trick on her by allowing her to die and coming back a second time.
Buffy, Drusilla/Spike by daria234
He writes poetry in blood across her stomach, then licks it up before she can read it.
"Mm," she pouts, "My beautiful boy shouldn't keep dark and lovely secrets from me."
He smirks, lips still red, and says, "Don't worry, love, it was something that you already know."
Crossover, Loki/Sansa by xahra99
“Tell me a story,” she says one cold winter night, as they listen to the wolves howl out her name beneath the high cold stars.
Loki spins her tales of half-faced hags and mouths sewn shut, of hound-faced men and golden-haired goddesses and wicked little dwarves.
They are not the stories Sansa remembers from her childhood, but she loves them all the same.
Crossover, Loki/Sansa by silvr_dagger
She knows they whisper in the Southlands, half in scorn and half in fear, of the kind of queen who would consent to wed and bed the Great Other's bastard, and join her House to that encroaching darkness. But she is a Stark before she is queen; she knows the cruelties of ice cannot match the cruelties of men, and her family count winter as foe and ally both - and so she says to anyone that dares to ask her.
He himself asked her only once - the two of them draped in furs and blankets and sipping mead before the fire, long after the Long Night had ended - and what she told him was something entirely different: bastard or no, monster or otherwise, he spins a story better than any minstrel she's ever known, and he makes her laugh.
Crossover, Loki/Sansa by janetlin
The whispers are furtive, if plentiful, of what depravities that monster from beyond the Wall subjects his too-young Stark wife to. So when he doesn't bother with subtlety, as he informs her over dinner that she will join him in his chamber that night, the bannermen at the other tables turn away, shuddering, and make a point of not listening any more.
Perhaps if they weren't trying so hard not to, later that evening they would hear gentle Southron songs of chivalry and romance from behind the "monster's" door.
Crossover, Loki/Sansa by xahra99
“We’re not gods,” Loki says,”just very long lived monsters.”
He looks like a tall pale man, rather than the Frost Giant aspect he calls jotun, but if he means to discourage Sansa, his words have the opposite effect. The gods have always ignored her; men have misused her, and the only people who have treated her kindly are those who other men name monsters.
Crossover, Super Mario/Pyramid Head by me
Pyramid Head looked at this little man before him, cocked his monstrous metal head slowly and screeching to one side - for he wasn’t used to see anyone not trembling before him, not falling on his knees and beg for his pitiful life - and, if possible, he would actually have frowned when said little man jumped up and down in a funny manner and even started to throw small fireballs at him (that he barely felt, just for the record).
The monster grumbled, getting more annoyed when that imp started to jump up AT his head.
The grip on his Great Knife tightened, and with little effort he wielded the weapon and raised it just as the midget attempted to jump at him again, with that stupid mustache and a voice too shrill for this place, saying Its-a-me, Ma - but Pyramid Head would never know who that little nuisance was, for he slammed the knife down when the imp was in midair and split him in half, moaning approvingly when well-earned silence fell over his town again and all jumping was once more eliminated.
Cowboy Bebop, Faye/Spike by anxietygrrl
"Got a light?" Slumped against the bulkhead, against her, the hoarse whisper on her neck, the bloody hand holding a cigarette, shaking, dripping red onto her white boots, her own hand wrapped around his to keep it steady, the quick flick-flicker of the fire, a pinball of starlight bouncing between their eyes, signal locked, transmission received. "Yeah," she breathes... but she blinks and it's just her and her gun and the closed hatch, the cold ship and the sound of him not coming back.
Greek Mythology, Hades/Persephone by lizzie_marie_23
"You can drag me through hell if it meant I could hold your hand"
He finds it hard to believe that she’s still here. Pomegranate contracts be damned, he’s absolutely certain that if Persephone wanted to get out of here she’d already be gone.
Hades has considered the possibility that she’s just waiting for him to mess up beyond anyone’s ability to fix things, and still he dares to reach for her hand.
Greek Mythology, Hades/Persephone by icecream_junkie
When Hades, God of the Underworld, had appeared out of nowhere on that beautiful day while she was collecting flowers with Artemis, Athena and the Oceanids, she had been startled and scared. After all she had never met the pale God before, because her mother Demeter had hidden her away from the other Gods to keep her safe from overzealous suitors.
Hades had found her anyway and had carried her off to the underworld, a somewhat cold and gloomy place, and Persephone had hoped that her mother would rescue her from this brute that seemed so fearsome and brusque, but after a while she realized that despite his demeanour, he could be rather accommodating and caring, so much so that he even gave her delicious pomegranate seeds, her favourite fruit, when she was hungry.
Greek Mythology, Medusa/Any by silvr_dagger
She is a monster, of course.
Her visage terrifies, as it should: hair that coils and writhes and tangles, ever-moving, and eyes that hold the promise of a stillness that never ends; the men who live in the shadow of her mountain tell stories of the creature that makes its home there - the demon devourer of livestock and maidens, hero-slayer, the beast residing in its ring of shattered statues and casting down all that venture close.
But those stories are wrong - as any naturalist will tell you, it is not predators that need such defenses; Medusa is prey that kills, and that will not change until those that would consume her learn their lesson and leave her instead, at last, to herself.
Harry Potter, Draco Pansy by janetlin
"I’d have followed anywhere you led"
Nothing is the same after the war: the future which had seemed so clear, so inevitable, is nowhere to be found; Pansy is not the lady of Malfoy Manor, and there are no elaborate balls there, no exclusive fetes to fill the gossip columns of the Daily Prophet for weeks thereafter. She and Draco see each other sometimes (wizarding Britain is still a relatively small community) and they make polite small talk over the heads of their children and inquire after each other's spouses. It isn't as awkward as she would have thought, being now so distant and merely civil with the boy she once thought she would follow anywhere.
Harry Potter, Narcissa/Lucius by pasted
In their 6th year, he approached her during lunch and asked if she'd like to accompany him on the upcoming Hogsmeade visit, his clear, sharp voice carried over all of their classmates' heads as if in a command.
She smiled, told him that would be lovely, and he leaned down to kiss her hand in thanks.
Something so regal about him, so gallant, even at 16, and she would remember that moment as when she fell in love with him, even during their worst times in the years to come.
Harry Potter, Narcissa/Lucius by icecream_junkie
Narcissa remembered the day he had asked her to accompany him to the Halloween Feast, all these years ago when they both still attended Hogwarts, as clearly as if it were yesterday. Lucius Malfoy, heir of one of the purest families in the wizarding world, had always been so noble and gallant, just like she had always imagined the man of her dreams to be. Now that he had endured imprisonment at Azkaban as well as the cruel treatment of his master, who had returned and taken up residence in their house, Lucius was merely a shadow of his former self, but to her he was still (and always would be) the noble and gallant knight of her naïve, adolescent dreams.
Harry Potter, Bellatrix/Rodolphus by tellshannon815
"You’re beneath me"
Bellatrix insisted on separate beds on their wedding night.
“You are beneath me, I may have been bound to you by my parents, but the only man I truly love is the Dark Lord.”
Yet Voldemort was determined that he must live his life alone, desiring conquest of the wizarding world more than he ever desired a wife, so Bellatrix must remain in this marriage.
Labyrinth, Jareth/Sarah by edenfalling
The air feels different in the mornings after Jareth visits: a crisp, green sensation, like wind blowing over leaves and stone and icy water, regardless of the actual weather. Sarah rolls sideways on her bed at dawn and buries her face in a pillow that bears a faint and fading trace of ozone and feathers; that scent and the touch of the Labyrinth in the air are the only signs that anyone had come to visit, let alone shared wine and kisses and slept beside her, and for an aching moment she wishes...
But then she sighs, and shuffles through her shoebox apartment in search of coffee and her laptop, and submerges herself back into mundane life rather than resent his absence; she has her responsibilities and deadlines as Jareth has his own, and neither wants to risk their hard-won peace by dragging its terms into the light of day.
Les Miserables, Cosette/Eponine by lizzie_marie_23
“I sometimes wish I’d been the favored child instead of you, maybe if I really belonged as a Thenardier things could have been-”
“No,” Eponine says, eyes dark with memories she hasn’t yet shed. “People like my - our - parents, once they’ve decided that they want you, they will never let go, even when they get tired of it.”
The Mummy, Anck-Su-Namun/Imhotep by alesh101
The moment the pharoah's chosen lifts her eyes to meet his, Imhotep knows.She is not meant for that mighty king with his earthly wealth and finite power. No, Anck-Su-Namun transcends such trivial things; in her gaze lies the promise of paradise, majestic and eternal. She is meant for him, the guardian of the spirit world; Imhotep believes this with all of his soul, and when when their eyes meet and hold, he realizes-so does she.
The Mummy, Anck-Su-Namun/Imhotep by vialethe
The cycle turns, and spins, and revolves again.
Always they have been together, her soul and his, as farmers, soldiers, scholars; as priest and concubine, slaves to a system and a king, victims of a curse intended to cripple the one thing, the only thing that had ever mattered, through all their long lives.
And now, the circle spins once more; his voice calls out to her from a world remade, and it is all, and everything: she is his, and they will never be parted again.
Phantom of the Opera, Christine/Eric by lizzie_marie_23
Christine grows accustomed to the smell, not quite of sewage, that accompanies her private voice lessons. Her Angel tries to mask it with more white roses than she knows what to do with, but more and more she finds she prefers the proof of his presence to be unadorned.
Even years later, in a marriage based on mutual respect and stability, something about the sight of standing water makes her heart race in her chest all over again, and she must apply orange perfume to her wrist and breathe that instead, shamefaced.
Phantom of the Opera, Christine/Eric/Meg by lizzie_marie_23
- Why should the Phantom visit that newcomer Christine when /she/, Meg, has always been the one to give him whatever he asked of her, and more, what he needed for years before?
- As much as he claims to love her, for musical talent, for heart, and for mind, he has still never let her see the inside of his box, saying that it would be demeaning to both of them, but she can’t help wondering what it will take to earn not only his devotion, but his trust.
- Erik understands better than anyone else why things must remain how they are; he /made/ these rules for himself, yet as each day breaks he burns with impotent rage to know that it is Ms. Giry’s face and not his own, over which Christine watches the sunlight play every morning.
Phantom of the Opera, Christine/Meg by lizzie_marie_23
"True friends stab you in the front"
She needs to admit to herself that her new roommate needs the Opera Ghost more than she ever has. Yes, she was promised the chance to become Empress, but that is nothing next to a girl still reeling from the death of her beloved father, and the mentor doing his best to fill that space.
Meg has learned her nurturing qualities from the greatest mother anyone could have, and stayed up with her friend on sleepless nights she felt all alone, and still that is not enough to compel Christine to share the music with her.
Phantom of the Opera, Christine/Eric
He stood in the shadows while the patch of moonlight roved across her quilt, her bare arms, her pale face. He sang lullabyes in counterpoint to the wind; he composed wordless hymns to the rhythm of her breath.
He never said goodbye -- but she would hear him just the same.
Phantom of the Opera, Christine/Eric by lizzie_marie_23
The Phantom is no more, she saw the crowd send him into the river and she saw the mask gently rise again to the surface, but every night is one more tragedy because she is so certain that this will be the night he returns to claim her. The man she married is good to her, he may be boring but he is so good and each night he holds her in his arms as tightly as she wishes and rocks her towards the Shores of Sleep. It is not Raoul’s fault that somewhere along the journey the Sea of Imagination is enclosed in a Cavern and Christine’s destination is undeniably revealed to be an island under an Opera House.
Phantom of the Opera, Eric/Meg by sandrine
Meg loves Christine, but she also hates her - hates how she's had Erik's undivided attention since the start, all those years and oceans ago in Paris, and still does now despite the fact that she's chosen pretty, bland Raoul over her Angel of Music long ago.
And here's Meg, trying so hard - on the stage every night, singing her heart out, and in his office and his quarters, offering tea and distraction and comfort - but nothing she does is ever good enough, or even leaves an impression.
"That'll be all, Miss Giry," Erik says, casually dismissing her without even looking up from his paperwork, and if Meg was capable of violence, she'd scream and shout and burn the whole of Coney Island down just to have him see her for once.
Sailor Moon, Haruka/Michiru by edenfalling
Part of being a professional musician on Michiru's level is maintaining contact with the right parts of society: the ones who pay for tickets and donations to keep orchestras and concert halls in the black. Haruka hated the artificiality of it all at first; hated biting her tongue while Michiru gently and politely redirected insulting conversational threads into equally offensive but more financially productive directions; hated the improbable clothes, the uncomfortable shoes, and the score or clashing perfumes; hated the way even the food at charity dinners and fancy restaurants seemed to ooze self-satisfied superiority.
She still hates all those things, but she's learned to let her anger go and wait for the moment Michiru meets her eyes and nods, and they slip away, laughing, to mount Haruka's motorcycle and roar off through the night: two princesses turned back into ordinary women in search of cheap, greasy takeout and the lived-in comfort of their own home.
The 100, Abby/Marcus by me
It's the first time Abby feels the sun on her face, the first time she breathes real oxygen, and the air is filled with so many fragrances she wants to cry.
"We've made it," she says with an incredulous smile as Marcus stands next to her and also takes in the sight of nature that surrounds them.
"Yes, this is our new beginning; we've made it," he repeats, and Abby doesn't flinch back when he intertwines his fingers with hers and squeezes her hand.
Asoiaf, Dany/Viserys by shipperchan_dna
She was his by birth right, as family tradition dictated.
He would someday marry her and protect her from the Usurper and his lion, wolf and stag dogs.
They weren't children anymore, he would tell her soon about them escaping that Horse Worshiper and he would take the throne by her side.
Asoiaf, Jaime/Loras by me
He can’t help himself and lets his eyes wander to the other man’s lips, notices how luscious they are, how they manage to pout so lovely; he can’t help himself and evokes a memory from a time long since past, when these lips were sighing his name and closed around his -
“Ser Jamie, long time no see,” these lips say now with a smirk and bring him back to the present.
“Ser Loras … not long enough for my taste,” Jamie responds after a moment, turns his horse around and rides away to hide his blush, to silence his faster-beating heart.
Asoiaf, Sansa/Theon by tellshannon815
She was Ned’s daughter, Robb’s sister, effectively off limits to Theon.
Yet she was not his sister, which meant that the whole time Theon had grown up at Winterfell, he had been aware that other possibilities existed.
He watched from afar as Sansa was betrothed first to Joffrey, then to Ramsay, wondering if she would ever be his.
Batman, girl!Edward Ngyma by me
Edie walks in and smirks as all eyes turn towards her, her fabulous appearance shouting ‘No, I’m not dead, Batman has NOT beaten me as the rumor says’, and this is the moment the other villains will know that she is invincible, too smart to go down, with or without a boom.
The only boom here is her entrance, tight green dress complimenting her curves, purple high heels clicking on the floor, her red mane a contrast to her outfit for even more attention as it bounces with every step and leaves a trail of self-confidence.
She reaches the bar and orders a Martini, then turns around and checks the other villains how they check her, knowing that they’re mostly attracted to her looks and underestimate her brain as usual; but as usual she doesn’t care and uses this fact to her advantage: she’ll try each and every one of them, probe their potential to see who’s most useful to her - in each and every way - and then decides if there is one to meet her requirements and worthy to work for her or if this remains a one-woman-show; however the result will be, ‘I know I’ll have fun anyway,’ she thinks and sips her Martini.
Batman, Bruce/Harley by me Rocket Boots
"But you didn't even let me finish!"
"Well, what could possibly change my mind?"
"I'm sure they'll come in black?"
Buffy, Buffy by autumnia
"You must have made some kind of mistake: I asked for death but instead I’m awake"
She wished she could remember what Heaven was like but all that would come to her mortal mind were brief flashes of light and nothing else. Buffy hadn't been there long, just a few months according to Spike, but in that brief time she knew it was far better to be there than return to the world of the living even though her friends and family were still here.
Buffy, Buffy by iawenbemerry
"faceless in the crowd"
Los Angeles provided Buffy with the respite she was looking for after her battle with Angelus. She got a job as a waitress and a small apartment, and spent the summer living like she was normal. In L.A., she didn't stand out; she wasn't the one people looked to when they needed a savior; she wasn't the Chosen One; she wasn't the Slayer who had killed her true love.
As she stood looking at the stone where her name and epitaph were carved in remembrance, she thought bitterly of that old saying about how doing good deeds would invariably lead to better and harder ones and wondered if the Gods were playing a cruel trick on her by allowing her to die and coming back a second time.
Buffy, Drusilla/Spike by daria234
He writes poetry in blood across her stomach, then licks it up before she can read it.
"Mm," she pouts, "My beautiful boy shouldn't keep dark and lovely secrets from me."
He smirks, lips still red, and says, "Don't worry, love, it was something that you already know."
Crossover, Loki/Sansa by xahra99
“Tell me a story,” she says one cold winter night, as they listen to the wolves howl out her name beneath the high cold stars.
Loki spins her tales of half-faced hags and mouths sewn shut, of hound-faced men and golden-haired goddesses and wicked little dwarves.
They are not the stories Sansa remembers from her childhood, but she loves them all the same.
Crossover, Loki/Sansa by silvr_dagger
She knows they whisper in the Southlands, half in scorn and half in fear, of the kind of queen who would consent to wed and bed the Great Other's bastard, and join her House to that encroaching darkness. But she is a Stark before she is queen; she knows the cruelties of ice cannot match the cruelties of men, and her family count winter as foe and ally both - and so she says to anyone that dares to ask her.
He himself asked her only once - the two of them draped in furs and blankets and sipping mead before the fire, long after the Long Night had ended - and what she told him was something entirely different: bastard or no, monster or otherwise, he spins a story better than any minstrel she's ever known, and he makes her laugh.
Crossover, Loki/Sansa by janetlin
The whispers are furtive, if plentiful, of what depravities that monster from beyond the Wall subjects his too-young Stark wife to. So when he doesn't bother with subtlety, as he informs her over dinner that she will join him in his chamber that night, the bannermen at the other tables turn away, shuddering, and make a point of not listening any more.
Perhaps if they weren't trying so hard not to, later that evening they would hear gentle Southron songs of chivalry and romance from behind the "monster's" door.
Crossover, Loki/Sansa by xahra99
“We’re not gods,” Loki says,”just very long lived monsters.”
He looks like a tall pale man, rather than the Frost Giant aspect he calls jotun, but if he means to discourage Sansa, his words have the opposite effect. The gods have always ignored her; men have misused her, and the only people who have treated her kindly are those who other men name monsters.
Crossover, Super Mario/Pyramid Head by me
Pyramid Head looked at this little man before him, cocked his monstrous metal head slowly and screeching to one side - for he wasn’t used to see anyone not trembling before him, not falling on his knees and beg for his pitiful life - and, if possible, he would actually have frowned when said little man jumped up and down in a funny manner and even started to throw small fireballs at him (that he barely felt, just for the record).
The monster grumbled, getting more annoyed when that imp started to jump up AT his head.
The grip on his Great Knife tightened, and with little effort he wielded the weapon and raised it just as the midget attempted to jump at him again, with that stupid mustache and a voice too shrill for this place, saying Its-a-me, Ma - but Pyramid Head would never know who that little nuisance was, for he slammed the knife down when the imp was in midair and split him in half, moaning approvingly when well-earned silence fell over his town again and all jumping was once more eliminated.
Cowboy Bebop, Faye/Spike by anxietygrrl
"Got a light?" Slumped against the bulkhead, against her, the hoarse whisper on her neck, the bloody hand holding a cigarette, shaking, dripping red onto her white boots, her own hand wrapped around his to keep it steady, the quick flick-flicker of the fire, a pinball of starlight bouncing between their eyes, signal locked, transmission received. "Yeah," she breathes... but she blinks and it's just her and her gun and the closed hatch, the cold ship and the sound of him not coming back.
Greek Mythology, Hades/Persephone by lizzie_marie_23
"You can drag me through hell if it meant I could hold your hand"
He finds it hard to believe that she’s still here. Pomegranate contracts be damned, he’s absolutely certain that if Persephone wanted to get out of here she’d already be gone.
Hades has considered the possibility that she’s just waiting for him to mess up beyond anyone’s ability to fix things, and still he dares to reach for her hand.
Greek Mythology, Hades/Persephone by icecream_junkie
When Hades, God of the Underworld, had appeared out of nowhere on that beautiful day while she was collecting flowers with Artemis, Athena and the Oceanids, she had been startled and scared. After all she had never met the pale God before, because her mother Demeter had hidden her away from the other Gods to keep her safe from overzealous suitors.
Hades had found her anyway and had carried her off to the underworld, a somewhat cold and gloomy place, and Persephone had hoped that her mother would rescue her from this brute that seemed so fearsome and brusque, but after a while she realized that despite his demeanour, he could be rather accommodating and caring, so much so that he even gave her delicious pomegranate seeds, her favourite fruit, when she was hungry.
Greek Mythology, Medusa/Any by silvr_dagger
She is a monster, of course.
Her visage terrifies, as it should: hair that coils and writhes and tangles, ever-moving, and eyes that hold the promise of a stillness that never ends; the men who live in the shadow of her mountain tell stories of the creature that makes its home there - the demon devourer of livestock and maidens, hero-slayer, the beast residing in its ring of shattered statues and casting down all that venture close.
But those stories are wrong - as any naturalist will tell you, it is not predators that need such defenses; Medusa is prey that kills, and that will not change until those that would consume her learn their lesson and leave her instead, at last, to herself.
Harry Potter, Draco Pansy by janetlin
"I’d have followed anywhere you led"
Nothing is the same after the war: the future which had seemed so clear, so inevitable, is nowhere to be found; Pansy is not the lady of Malfoy Manor, and there are no elaborate balls there, no exclusive fetes to fill the gossip columns of the Daily Prophet for weeks thereafter. She and Draco see each other sometimes (wizarding Britain is still a relatively small community) and they make polite small talk over the heads of their children and inquire after each other's spouses. It isn't as awkward as she would have thought, being now so distant and merely civil with the boy she once thought she would follow anywhere.
Harry Potter, Narcissa/Lucius by pasted
In their 6th year, he approached her during lunch and asked if she'd like to accompany him on the upcoming Hogsmeade visit, his clear, sharp voice carried over all of their classmates' heads as if in a command.
She smiled, told him that would be lovely, and he leaned down to kiss her hand in thanks.
Something so regal about him, so gallant, even at 16, and she would remember that moment as when she fell in love with him, even during their worst times in the years to come.
Harry Potter, Narcissa/Lucius by icecream_junkie
Narcissa remembered the day he had asked her to accompany him to the Halloween Feast, all these years ago when they both still attended Hogwarts, as clearly as if it were yesterday. Lucius Malfoy, heir of one of the purest families in the wizarding world, had always been so noble and gallant, just like she had always imagined the man of her dreams to be. Now that he had endured imprisonment at Azkaban as well as the cruel treatment of his master, who had returned and taken up residence in their house, Lucius was merely a shadow of his former self, but to her he was still (and always would be) the noble and gallant knight of her naïve, adolescent dreams.
Harry Potter, Bellatrix/Rodolphus by tellshannon815
"You’re beneath me"
Bellatrix insisted on separate beds on their wedding night.
“You are beneath me, I may have been bound to you by my parents, but the only man I truly love is the Dark Lord.”
Yet Voldemort was determined that he must live his life alone, desiring conquest of the wizarding world more than he ever desired a wife, so Bellatrix must remain in this marriage.
Labyrinth, Jareth/Sarah by edenfalling
The air feels different in the mornings after Jareth visits: a crisp, green sensation, like wind blowing over leaves and stone and icy water, regardless of the actual weather. Sarah rolls sideways on her bed at dawn and buries her face in a pillow that bears a faint and fading trace of ozone and feathers; that scent and the touch of the Labyrinth in the air are the only signs that anyone had come to visit, let alone shared wine and kisses and slept beside her, and for an aching moment she wishes...
But then she sighs, and shuffles through her shoebox apartment in search of coffee and her laptop, and submerges herself back into mundane life rather than resent his absence; she has her responsibilities and deadlines as Jareth has his own, and neither wants to risk their hard-won peace by dragging its terms into the light of day.
Les Miserables, Cosette/Eponine by lizzie_marie_23
“I sometimes wish I’d been the favored child instead of you, maybe if I really belonged as a Thenardier things could have been-”
“No,” Eponine says, eyes dark with memories she hasn’t yet shed. “People like my - our - parents, once they’ve decided that they want you, they will never let go, even when they get tired of it.”
The Mummy, Anck-Su-Namun/Imhotep by alesh101
The moment the pharoah's chosen lifts her eyes to meet his, Imhotep knows.She is not meant for that mighty king with his earthly wealth and finite power. No, Anck-Su-Namun transcends such trivial things; in her gaze lies the promise of paradise, majestic and eternal. She is meant for him, the guardian of the spirit world; Imhotep believes this with all of his soul, and when when their eyes meet and hold, he realizes-so does she.
The Mummy, Anck-Su-Namun/Imhotep by vialethe
The cycle turns, and spins, and revolves again.
Always they have been together, her soul and his, as farmers, soldiers, scholars; as priest and concubine, slaves to a system and a king, victims of a curse intended to cripple the one thing, the only thing that had ever mattered, through all their long lives.
And now, the circle spins once more; his voice calls out to her from a world remade, and it is all, and everything: she is his, and they will never be parted again.
Phantom of the Opera, Christine/Eric by lizzie_marie_23
Christine grows accustomed to the smell, not quite of sewage, that accompanies her private voice lessons. Her Angel tries to mask it with more white roses than she knows what to do with, but more and more she finds she prefers the proof of his presence to be unadorned.
Even years later, in a marriage based on mutual respect and stability, something about the sight of standing water makes her heart race in her chest all over again, and she must apply orange perfume to her wrist and breathe that instead, shamefaced.
Phantom of the Opera, Christine/Eric/Meg by lizzie_marie_23
- Why should the Phantom visit that newcomer Christine when /she/, Meg, has always been the one to give him whatever he asked of her, and more, what he needed for years before?
- As much as he claims to love her, for musical talent, for heart, and for mind, he has still never let her see the inside of his box, saying that it would be demeaning to both of them, but she can’t help wondering what it will take to earn not only his devotion, but his trust.
- Erik understands better than anyone else why things must remain how they are; he /made/ these rules for himself, yet as each day breaks he burns with impotent rage to know that it is Ms. Giry’s face and not his own, over which Christine watches the sunlight play every morning.
Phantom of the Opera, Christine/Meg by lizzie_marie_23
"True friends stab you in the front"
She needs to admit to herself that her new roommate needs the Opera Ghost more than she ever has. Yes, she was promised the chance to become Empress, but that is nothing next to a girl still reeling from the death of her beloved father, and the mentor doing his best to fill that space.
Meg has learned her nurturing qualities from the greatest mother anyone could have, and stayed up with her friend on sleepless nights she felt all alone, and still that is not enough to compel Christine to share the music with her.
Phantom of the Opera, Christine/Eric
He stood in the shadows while the patch of moonlight roved across her quilt, her bare arms, her pale face. He sang lullabyes in counterpoint to the wind; he composed wordless hymns to the rhythm of her breath.
He never said goodbye -- but she would hear him just the same.
Phantom of the Opera, Christine/Eric by lizzie_marie_23
The Phantom is no more, she saw the crowd send him into the river and she saw the mask gently rise again to the surface, but every night is one more tragedy because she is so certain that this will be the night he returns to claim her. The man she married is good to her, he may be boring but he is so good and each night he holds her in his arms as tightly as she wishes and rocks her towards the Shores of Sleep. It is not Raoul’s fault that somewhere along the journey the Sea of Imagination is enclosed in a Cavern and Christine’s destination is undeniably revealed to be an island under an Opera House.
Phantom of the Opera, Eric/Meg by sandrine
Meg loves Christine, but she also hates her - hates how she's had Erik's undivided attention since the start, all those years and oceans ago in Paris, and still does now despite the fact that she's chosen pretty, bland Raoul over her Angel of Music long ago.
And here's Meg, trying so hard - on the stage every night, singing her heart out, and in his office and his quarters, offering tea and distraction and comfort - but nothing she does is ever good enough, or even leaves an impression.
"That'll be all, Miss Giry," Erik says, casually dismissing her without even looking up from his paperwork, and if Meg was capable of violence, she'd scream and shout and burn the whole of Coney Island down just to have him see her for once.
Sailor Moon, Haruka/Michiru by edenfalling
Part of being a professional musician on Michiru's level is maintaining contact with the right parts of society: the ones who pay for tickets and donations to keep orchestras and concert halls in the black. Haruka hated the artificiality of it all at first; hated biting her tongue while Michiru gently and politely redirected insulting conversational threads into equally offensive but more financially productive directions; hated the improbable clothes, the uncomfortable shoes, and the score or clashing perfumes; hated the way even the food at charity dinners and fancy restaurants seemed to ooze self-satisfied superiority.
She still hates all those things, but she's learned to let her anger go and wait for the moment Michiru meets her eyes and nods, and they slip away, laughing, to mount Haruka's motorcycle and roar off through the night: two princesses turned back into ordinary women in search of cheap, greasy takeout and the lived-in comfort of their own home.