Drabbles
Here be the drabbles that people requested! Actually, double drabbles, because each of them just wanted to be 200 words long instead of 100. Just click on your name to see yours. I’m still taking requests, by the way, if anyone else is interested. Just see here what I will and won’t write, and leave a comment.
I had a great time with these and I hope you'll enjoy them. If I’ve made any mistakes, please feel free to correct me, because, you know, still not a native speaker.
NB: I’ve placed pseudonihilist’s drabble in an entry of its own because of the dark content and potential squick factor. Under the cut you’ll find a link to it, with warnings included, so it’s safe to click on the cut even if you don’t wish to read it.
* * *
For _kenaz_: Túrin/Beleg (The Silmarillion), PG, Angst
Why did you ever come to me, Beleg Cúthalion?
Never once did I seek warmth from you during those long and cold nights in the wild, although I knew well you would not have turned me away. Never once did I ask you to follow me or fight by my side. Never once did I request for you to share my simple bed.
Yet you offered it all freely, and I was weak. I learned long ago that it is better to live without fire altogether than let it burn brightly for a moment, then lose it forever. But which mortal has ever been able to resist the touch of an elf, the declaration of their devotion?
As I sit here by your still body and wait for the world around me to tear itself apart, for the rain and storm to lash me away, I blame myself, but I also blame you. You were wiser and stronger, and you knew me better than I knew myself. What I understood not, you should have, and your life could have been spared.
You should have seen that I am Túrin, marked with sorrow, and whomever my love touches, it will destroy.
* * *
For Pseudonihilist: Elrond/Arwen (Lord of the Rings), R. Warning: this is an AU ficlet containining dark themes and incest. If these things bother you, do not click on the link.
* * *
For empfindsamkeit: Madame Giry/Erik (Phantom of the Opera), PG
Many years before she took to wearing her hair up as grown women do, the masked man would sometimes take her down to his lair, and she would always follow willingly.
He would cover her eyes with a velvet scarf, soft and heavy against her lids, and slowly remove one of the cheap gloves she wore, the only pair her parents had been able to afford before sending her to Paris. Then he would begin to sing, taking off his mask and lifting her bare hand to feel his face, the deceptively smooth skin that suddenly and cruelly broke into a creased and crinkled eruption of hideous monstrosity. It was never more, never less than that: his voice in the dark, her fingers moving over the day and night of his face, taking in the sensation that was repulsive and oddly fascinating at once. Yet she understood this was the most intimate touch either of them had ever known.
Years later, when he would no longer take her to his chambers, she still dreamed of that touch, lying beside her husband or singing songs to her baby daughter.
Choosing to share darkness with someone is not a choice easily forgotten.
* * *
For dynastessa: Lyra/Will (His Dark Materials), G
“Do you have these in your world?” Will asked Lyra, as a dark-haired girl handed them two blueberry muffins over the counter in a coffee shop.
Lyra sniffed her muffin suspiciously, then tasted it cautiously with the tip of her tongue. Will watched with fascination as the tongue flickered out and disappeared between her lips again.
“Don’t worry, it’s very good,” Will said as they left the shop.
Lyra began to nibble the muffin, and the expression on her face changed from a frown to surprise and then delight.
“It’s delicious,” she mumbled with her mouth full.
A few crumbs stuck to the corners of her lips. Instinctively, without stopping to think, Will lifted his hand and brushed them away. Lyra jumped at the touch and eyed Will with curiosity, but didn’t say anything. At that moment Will experienced an entirely unfamiliar sensation, as if something had pressed gently against his heart.
Though he didn’t understand it yet, it had been sealed that he would follow her wherever he could. For the deepest and most devoted love is not born of grand and dangerous trials only, but also of tiny everyday moments, such as seeing muffin crumbs on somebody’s lips.
I had a great time with these and I hope you'll enjoy them. If I’ve made any mistakes, please feel free to correct me, because, you know, still not a native speaker.
NB: I’ve placed pseudonihilist’s drabble in an entry of its own because of the dark content and potential squick factor. Under the cut you’ll find a link to it, with warnings included, so it’s safe to click on the cut even if you don’t wish to read it.
* * *
For _kenaz_: Túrin/Beleg (The Silmarillion), PG, Angst
Why did you ever come to me, Beleg Cúthalion?
Never once did I seek warmth from you during those long and cold nights in the wild, although I knew well you would not have turned me away. Never once did I ask you to follow me or fight by my side. Never once did I request for you to share my simple bed.
Yet you offered it all freely, and I was weak. I learned long ago that it is better to live without fire altogether than let it burn brightly for a moment, then lose it forever. But which mortal has ever been able to resist the touch of an elf, the declaration of their devotion?
As I sit here by your still body and wait for the world around me to tear itself apart, for the rain and storm to lash me away, I blame myself, but I also blame you. You were wiser and stronger, and you knew me better than I knew myself. What I understood not, you should have, and your life could have been spared.
You should have seen that I am Túrin, marked with sorrow, and whomever my love touches, it will destroy.
* * *
For Pseudonihilist: Elrond/Arwen (Lord of the Rings), R. Warning: this is an AU ficlet containining dark themes and incest. If these things bother you, do not click on the link.
* * *
For empfindsamkeit: Madame Giry/Erik (Phantom of the Opera), PG
Many years before she took to wearing her hair up as grown women do, the masked man would sometimes take her down to his lair, and she would always follow willingly.
He would cover her eyes with a velvet scarf, soft and heavy against her lids, and slowly remove one of the cheap gloves she wore, the only pair her parents had been able to afford before sending her to Paris. Then he would begin to sing, taking off his mask and lifting her bare hand to feel his face, the deceptively smooth skin that suddenly and cruelly broke into a creased and crinkled eruption of hideous monstrosity. It was never more, never less than that: his voice in the dark, her fingers moving over the day and night of his face, taking in the sensation that was repulsive and oddly fascinating at once. Yet she understood this was the most intimate touch either of them had ever known.
Years later, when he would no longer take her to his chambers, she still dreamed of that touch, lying beside her husband or singing songs to her baby daughter.
Choosing to share darkness with someone is not a choice easily forgotten.
* * *
For dynastessa: Lyra/Will (His Dark Materials), G
“Do you have these in your world?” Will asked Lyra, as a dark-haired girl handed them two blueberry muffins over the counter in a coffee shop.
Lyra sniffed her muffin suspiciously, then tasted it cautiously with the tip of her tongue. Will watched with fascination as the tongue flickered out and disappeared between her lips again.
“Don’t worry, it’s very good,” Will said as they left the shop.
Lyra began to nibble the muffin, and the expression on her face changed from a frown to surprise and then delight.
“It’s delicious,” she mumbled with her mouth full.
A few crumbs stuck to the corners of her lips. Instinctively, without stopping to think, Will lifted his hand and brushed them away. Lyra jumped at the touch and eyed Will with curiosity, but didn’t say anything. At that moment Will experienced an entirely unfamiliar sensation, as if something had pressed gently against his heart.
Though he didn’t understand it yet, it had been sealed that he would follow her wherever he could. For the deepest and most devoted love is not born of grand and dangerous trials only, but also of tiny everyday moments, such as seeing muffin crumbs on somebody’s lips.