omg, that was wonderful.
Jun. 5th, 2010 09:58 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
be_themoonhow so ABSURDLY AWESOME, Doctor Who?
I shall flail tomorrow! Tonight, I have the seven drabbles I wrote this week for my summer drabble project.
tea and time
Doctor Who/Narnia. Rory & Susan, 152 words.
“You don’t quite belong here, do you?” Susan says consideringly, and Rory stammers something about keys and he’ll just be off now, thanks, but Susan takes him by the arm and smiles, warm and gentle. “It’s alright,” she says. “I don’t quite either.”
“Oh, well,” Rory says, and she tucks her arm in his and starts off down the road, almost dragging him along behind her.
She makes him tea, and then they sit down and he finds himself telling her about Amy, and the crack, and the Doctor, and the TARDIS, and she smiles a little wistfully.
“It’s not accident you found me,” she says. “I’m not sure how the crack works exactly, but I’d guess it followed residual traces of time travel to bring you here.” He looks at her, and then his eyes widen as she smiles.
“Oh,” he says, and then again, “Oh!”
“Quite,” she says. “More tea?”
summertime
Narnia. Lucy. 170 words.
Lucy likes summer the best, when the dryads are self-contented and happy and the nymphs running slow and lazy. She is a queen, so naturally running barefoot in the green and fresh grass has nothing to do in regards to her pick of season.
She especially enjoys visiting Calia, whose stream is one of the many that feed the underwater aqueduct that waters Cair Paravel. Calia is discreet and finds gossip beneath her, two qualities which make her an excellent lover for a queen, besides all which she has a lovely habit of kissing Lucy with the languid heat of the summer, a gesture Lucy feels is best returned in kind.
By the time Lucy does manage to get home from visiting Calia, her hair is always mussed and her laces tied most improperly, but Susan never notices. A return of small favors, which Lucy keeps up by never teasing when Susan doesn’t come out of her room alone. Edmund and Peter, on the other hand, are perfectly fair game.
blood on his hands
Original fiction (Harborverse). Cedric Monroe. 145 words.
I’m a bloody doctor, Cedric thinks halfway through reloading his gun, but it’s not enough to make him hesitate. Nothing is anymore. He can pick his way through the aftermath of a battle and not even wonder which of the casualties was caused by him. He can dress wounds impersonally, just one more face in a long line of them. He doesn’t ask names anymore, because he doesn’t want to know any more than he wants to know whether they were married, or had children, or why they’d joined up in the army in the first place.
“I’m getting too hard,” he says quietly to Richard, one evening, and Richard shrugs, his mouth twisting unpleasantly.
“Aren’t we all?” he says, and takes a drink, and Cedric looks down and closes his eyes, forces himself to remain calm and still. It’s the truth. That’s what hurts.
corridors
Princess of Thieves. Gwyn/Philip. 174 words.
She never stays long.
“We can’t afford to be found out,” she tells him, lacing up her second boot. He always tries to get her to remain just a few minutes longer, but she smiles and kisses him with a secretive smile before picking up the tray she brought his breakfast in on and slipping out. He’s not dumb – he figures out quickly enough that she won’t be entangled any further than she already is. Staying would mean talking, and she won’t risk that, won’t risk any more of her heart in his hands. It hurts that she doesn’t trust him.
“I love you,” he says one day, and she doesn’t answer, just finishes putting her clothes on and leaves. He wants so much more than she’s willing to give that it’s a physical pain in his chest. She leaves that afternoon on an errand for her father, and when she returns he doesn’t make the same mistake twice. He can take what she will give gratefully – he owes her that, and much more.
sisters in arms
Narnia. Susan & Lucy. 112 words.
“Let me,” Susan says, and Lucy almost jumps. She hadn’t heard her sister come into the tent, and she feels ashamed at the thought of Susan seeing her fumbling clumsy-handed with the ties for her braces.
“I’m not nervous,” she says quickly, and Susan smiles and takes the ties into her hands, lacing her up deftly.
“I was before my first real battle,” she says. “But you’ll be fine. I won’t lie, battle is hard, and tiring, and horrifying, but you’ll be okay.”
“Are you sure?” Lucy says, and Susan tugs her around and begins braiding her hair.
“Positive,” she says. “Just as soon as your hair is out of your face.”
soaking up culture (so that’s what they’re calling it now)
Chronicles of Narnia/Torchwood. Edmund/Ianto. 179 words.
“The first was the only decent one,” Ianto mutters into his cup of coffee as they walk across the plaza, and Edmund laughs.
“It’s called culture – I’m acquiring it!” he says, and Ianto rolls his eyes.
“The second two are not culture, and besides its all American culture, you’re in England now. Watch Mary Poppins.”
“What’s that? Should it go on my list?”
“… Yes, definitely.”
“That really didn’t sound very promising.”
“It is an icon of British culture. Sort of.”
“You owe me at least two epics if you make me sit through it,” Edmund says. “I don’t think I can take anyone dancing across rooftops.”
“Oh, that’s not fair, you can’t take advantage of the fact that you already know it,” Ianto says as the door opens, and Edmund laughs.
“Yes, I most certainly can,” he says. “Gwen! What’s the news?”
“You and Ianto sleeping together, I think,” Gwen says absent-mindedly, and then looks up. “Oh, sorry, did I say that out loud?” Edmund turns and looks at Ianto.
“Sometimes I hate your team,” he informs him.
the shore tide
Original fiction (Harborverse). Cedric & Holland Monroe. 165 words.
“Cedric!” Holland yells from the deck of the Swallow, waving madly, and Cedric grins as he waves back, waiting impatiently for her to be rowed across to him. Finally she makes her way through the officials and the paperwork, flinging herself into his arms exuberantly. He hasn’t seen her this animated in years, or this tan, and it brings him back to childhood and before Holland was trained up in refinement.
“Have a nice trip?” he says, and Holland beams at him, her hat having long fallen off her head, dangling only the ribbon tied under her chin.
“It was absolutely lovely,” she says. “You and I must go to the seashore when we have holidays. I had almost forgotten how beautiful it is, shut up in that school.”
“We shall go every day if that is what you want,” Cedric says, and Holland laughs and hugs him again.
“Perhaps not every day, I shall be quite busy,” she says. “But we must certainly go.”
I shall flail tomorrow! Tonight, I have the seven drabbles I wrote this week for my summer drabble project.
tea and time
Doctor Who/Narnia. Rory & Susan, 152 words.
“You don’t quite belong here, do you?” Susan says consideringly, and Rory stammers something about keys and he’ll just be off now, thanks, but Susan takes him by the arm and smiles, warm and gentle. “It’s alright,” she says. “I don’t quite either.”
“Oh, well,” Rory says, and she tucks her arm in his and starts off down the road, almost dragging him along behind her.
She makes him tea, and then they sit down and he finds himself telling her about Amy, and the crack, and the Doctor, and the TARDIS, and she smiles a little wistfully.
“It’s not accident you found me,” she says. “I’m not sure how the crack works exactly, but I’d guess it followed residual traces of time travel to bring you here.” He looks at her, and then his eyes widen as she smiles.
“Oh,” he says, and then again, “Oh!”
“Quite,” she says. “More tea?”
summertime
Narnia. Lucy. 170 words.
Lucy likes summer the best, when the dryads are self-contented and happy and the nymphs running slow and lazy. She is a queen, so naturally running barefoot in the green and fresh grass has nothing to do in regards to her pick of season.
She especially enjoys visiting Calia, whose stream is one of the many that feed the underwater aqueduct that waters Cair Paravel. Calia is discreet and finds gossip beneath her, two qualities which make her an excellent lover for a queen, besides all which she has a lovely habit of kissing Lucy with the languid heat of the summer, a gesture Lucy feels is best returned in kind.
By the time Lucy does manage to get home from visiting Calia, her hair is always mussed and her laces tied most improperly, but Susan never notices. A return of small favors, which Lucy keeps up by never teasing when Susan doesn’t come out of her room alone. Edmund and Peter, on the other hand, are perfectly fair game.
blood on his hands
Original fiction (Harborverse). Cedric Monroe. 145 words.
I’m a bloody doctor, Cedric thinks halfway through reloading his gun, but it’s not enough to make him hesitate. Nothing is anymore. He can pick his way through the aftermath of a battle and not even wonder which of the casualties was caused by him. He can dress wounds impersonally, just one more face in a long line of them. He doesn’t ask names anymore, because he doesn’t want to know any more than he wants to know whether they were married, or had children, or why they’d joined up in the army in the first place.
“I’m getting too hard,” he says quietly to Richard, one evening, and Richard shrugs, his mouth twisting unpleasantly.
“Aren’t we all?” he says, and takes a drink, and Cedric looks down and closes his eyes, forces himself to remain calm and still. It’s the truth. That’s what hurts.
corridors
Princess of Thieves. Gwyn/Philip. 174 words.
She never stays long.
“We can’t afford to be found out,” she tells him, lacing up her second boot. He always tries to get her to remain just a few minutes longer, but she smiles and kisses him with a secretive smile before picking up the tray she brought his breakfast in on and slipping out. He’s not dumb – he figures out quickly enough that she won’t be entangled any further than she already is. Staying would mean talking, and she won’t risk that, won’t risk any more of her heart in his hands. It hurts that she doesn’t trust him.
“I love you,” he says one day, and she doesn’t answer, just finishes putting her clothes on and leaves. He wants so much more than she’s willing to give that it’s a physical pain in his chest. She leaves that afternoon on an errand for her father, and when she returns he doesn’t make the same mistake twice. He can take what she will give gratefully – he owes her that, and much more.
sisters in arms
Narnia. Susan & Lucy. 112 words.
“Let me,” Susan says, and Lucy almost jumps. She hadn’t heard her sister come into the tent, and she feels ashamed at the thought of Susan seeing her fumbling clumsy-handed with the ties for her braces.
“I’m not nervous,” she says quickly, and Susan smiles and takes the ties into her hands, lacing her up deftly.
“I was before my first real battle,” she says. “But you’ll be fine. I won’t lie, battle is hard, and tiring, and horrifying, but you’ll be okay.”
“Are you sure?” Lucy says, and Susan tugs her around and begins braiding her hair.
“Positive,” she says. “Just as soon as your hair is out of your face.”
soaking up culture (so that’s what they’re calling it now)
Chronicles of Narnia/Torchwood. Edmund/Ianto. 179 words.
“The first was the only decent one,” Ianto mutters into his cup of coffee as they walk across the plaza, and Edmund laughs.
“It’s called culture – I’m acquiring it!” he says, and Ianto rolls his eyes.
“The second two are not culture, and besides its all American culture, you’re in England now. Watch Mary Poppins.”
“What’s that? Should it go on my list?”
“… Yes, definitely.”
“That really didn’t sound very promising.”
“It is an icon of British culture. Sort of.”
“You owe me at least two epics if you make me sit through it,” Edmund says. “I don’t think I can take anyone dancing across rooftops.”
“Oh, that’s not fair, you can’t take advantage of the fact that you already know it,” Ianto says as the door opens, and Edmund laughs.
“Yes, I most certainly can,” he says. “Gwen! What’s the news?”
“You and Ianto sleeping together, I think,” Gwen says absent-mindedly, and then looks up. “Oh, sorry, did I say that out loud?” Edmund turns and looks at Ianto.
“Sometimes I hate your team,” he informs him.
the shore tide
Original fiction (Harborverse). Cedric & Holland Monroe. 165 words.
“Cedric!” Holland yells from the deck of the Swallow, waving madly, and Cedric grins as he waves back, waiting impatiently for her to be rowed across to him. Finally she makes her way through the officials and the paperwork, flinging herself into his arms exuberantly. He hasn’t seen her this animated in years, or this tan, and it brings him back to childhood and before Holland was trained up in refinement.
“Have a nice trip?” he says, and Holland beams at him, her hat having long fallen off her head, dangling only the ribbon tied under her chin.
“It was absolutely lovely,” she says. “You and I must go to the seashore when we have holidays. I had almost forgotten how beautiful it is, shut up in that school.”
“We shall go every day if that is what you want,” Cedric says, and Holland laughs and hugs him again.
“Perhaps not every day, I shall be quite busy,” she says. “But we must certainly go.”
