Drabble requests! (Finally)
For aradiachiba, Harry Potter and RENT:
HP; Draco (100 words):
He is a Malfoy. Malfoy men do not cry, and Malfoys never allow weakness of any sort. And this is most decidedly a weakness.
I can’t do it, it’s too hard, it won’t work, I’ll fail
Gripping the sink, he sobbed. Despairing thoughts chased one another; did it matter if he was making a fool of himself? A Malfoy, crying in a girl’s lavatory? If his father-no. No thinking about parents and expectations and responsibilities and impossible tasks. No thinking about his imminent death and how painful it was bound to be, or how he was bound to fail.
HP; Harry/Ginny fluff (100 words)
Harry felt deliciously drowsy, lying under a tree by the lake with Ginny’s head on his shoulder. He had never known how nice it felt to twist her hair between his fingers, or noticed how perfectly she fit against him.
“Harry?”
“Hmm?” Opening his eyes seemed too much effort.
Ginny shifted to better look at his face. He looked peaceful and half asleep. She glanced at the stormclouds above them and settled back against him. “Never mind,” she said, smiling as he began absently playing with her hair again.
Being caught in a rainstorm didn’t seem so very horrid, anyway.
RENT; Mark/Maureen, pre-musical (200 words):
Maureen watched Mark. Not obviously, because he would have been embarrassed and self-conscious. But she watched him, out of the corner of her eye. Not always. Not even often, but sometimes the right mood struck her, and she watched. Listened. He would have laughed and his skin would have turned pink, had he known. But he didn’t, and she liked it that way.
When Mark was filming, he became a different person. Put a camera in his hands, and it was like… like putting Maureen on a stage. The day she realized this, Maureen went out and bought Mark the new lens he had been pining over for weeks-ever since Roger broke the old one in one of his rages. She never did tell him how it wound up on his pillow that night, but gathering by his reaction, he knew.
Maureen knew the others thought she was a selfish drama-queen, and might have been the first to admit it. She knew she took advantage of Mark, and she knew he adored her. It was nice to have faith in that; faith that someone loved her. If she tested him, it was because she loved him.
It scared her.
And speaking of RENT, for scribophile, who asked for something about Roger.
Uh. Definitely more than a drabble, and maybe I'm cheating because most of this was written a while ago, but I never could figure out what to do with it until now. :)
Takes place immediately after Roger storms out of Mimi's apartment in the stage production, right before Without You. Wound up having quite a bit of Mark, but... that's okay, because it's Mark. And still ultimately about Roger.
RENT; Roger (431 words):
Roger opened the door to the loft, noting the lights and the fact that the heat still wasn’t working. It was still relatively cold, being only April. He could smell the illegal wood stove, and the spaghetti-o’s Mark had eaten earlier. Roger’s stomach growled, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten while waiting for Mimi.
Mark was sitting at the table, fiddling with his camera. He looked up when the door opened, and Roger saw the look that crossed his face but pretended he didn’t. "Hey," he said grudgingly, knowing Mark’s feelings would be hurt if he didn’t at least acknowledge him.
Mark hesitated. "Hey," he muttered, looking Roger over surreptitiously. Roger knew what he was doing. Assessing Roger’s mood, trying to determine what kind of a fight it was, how serious it was and whether or not Roger was drunk. Or stupid enough to be high. Roger hated that Mark would always include that in his once-over. Hated that there was reason for him to include it… and no real reason to ever disregard it completely.
Roger slumped onto the couch, feeling unexpectedly drained. He felt Mark’s eyes on him. Knew Mark was curious. He rather suddenly missed Mark and the loft. He realized how little time he had spent up here with his best friend since meeting Mimi, and let himself feel annoyed about that because it was something. It was easier when I didn’t leave the house, he thought dejectedly.
"Roger?" Mark spoke up, picking up on Roger’s mood as always. "What’s up?"
Roger lay his head back against the couch. He felt like shit. He shut his eyes and spoke to the ceiling. "The usual."
Roger heard Mark set aside his camera. Heard the chair scrape and heard Mark put a bowl in the sink. Heard Mark cross the room and felt him sit on the other end of the couch. Felt Mark’s eyes on him. He could feel tension building in the room, and he knew Mark was worrying. Mark always worried. Heaving a sigh, he lifted his head and looked at his roommate. "I’m fine."
"You’re not." Mark always had a come-back. And was usually right.
Roger didn’t say anything for a while, just looking at Mark and watching him begin to grow uncomfortable. When Mark finally blinked and looked away, coloring slightly, Roger dropped his head back onto the couch. He couldn’t suppress the smile he felt tugging at his mouth. "No, maybe not," he admitted and knew without looking that Mark had almost given himself whiplash to stare at him. "But I will be."
larinza and arnica, yours are coming. Eventually. =P
But now, it's bedtime. Definitely past so.
HP; Draco (100 words):
He is a Malfoy. Malfoy men do not cry, and Malfoys never allow weakness of any sort. And this is most decidedly a weakness.
I can’t do it, it’s too hard, it won’t work, I’ll fail
Gripping the sink, he sobbed. Despairing thoughts chased one another; did it matter if he was making a fool of himself? A Malfoy, crying in a girl’s lavatory? If his father-no. No thinking about parents and expectations and responsibilities and impossible tasks. No thinking about his imminent death and how painful it was bound to be, or how he was bound to fail.
HP; Harry/Ginny fluff (100 words)
Harry felt deliciously drowsy, lying under a tree by the lake with Ginny’s head on his shoulder. He had never known how nice it felt to twist her hair between his fingers, or noticed how perfectly she fit against him.
“Harry?”
“Hmm?” Opening his eyes seemed too much effort.
Ginny shifted to better look at his face. He looked peaceful and half asleep. She glanced at the stormclouds above them and settled back against him. “Never mind,” she said, smiling as he began absently playing with her hair again.
Being caught in a rainstorm didn’t seem so very horrid, anyway.
RENT; Mark/Maureen, pre-musical (200 words):
Maureen watched Mark. Not obviously, because he would have been embarrassed and self-conscious. But she watched him, out of the corner of her eye. Not always. Not even often, but sometimes the right mood struck her, and she watched. Listened. He would have laughed and his skin would have turned pink, had he known. But he didn’t, and she liked it that way.
When Mark was filming, he became a different person. Put a camera in his hands, and it was like… like putting Maureen on a stage. The day she realized this, Maureen went out and bought Mark the new lens he had been pining over for weeks-ever since Roger broke the old one in one of his rages. She never did tell him how it wound up on his pillow that night, but gathering by his reaction, he knew.
Maureen knew the others thought she was a selfish drama-queen, and might have been the first to admit it. She knew she took advantage of Mark, and she knew he adored her. It was nice to have faith in that; faith that someone loved her. If she tested him, it was because she loved him.
It scared her.
And speaking of RENT, for scribophile, who asked for something about Roger.
Uh. Definitely more than a drabble, and maybe I'm cheating because most of this was written a while ago, but I never could figure out what to do with it until now. :)
Takes place immediately after Roger storms out of Mimi's apartment in the stage production, right before Without You. Wound up having quite a bit of Mark, but... that's okay, because it's Mark. And still ultimately about Roger.
RENT; Roger (431 words):
Roger opened the door to the loft, noting the lights and the fact that the heat still wasn’t working. It was still relatively cold, being only April. He could smell the illegal wood stove, and the spaghetti-o’s Mark had eaten earlier. Roger’s stomach growled, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten while waiting for Mimi.
Mark was sitting at the table, fiddling with his camera. He looked up when the door opened, and Roger saw the look that crossed his face but pretended he didn’t. "Hey," he said grudgingly, knowing Mark’s feelings would be hurt if he didn’t at least acknowledge him.
Mark hesitated. "Hey," he muttered, looking Roger over surreptitiously. Roger knew what he was doing. Assessing Roger’s mood, trying to determine what kind of a fight it was, how serious it was and whether or not Roger was drunk. Or stupid enough to be high. Roger hated that Mark would always include that in his once-over. Hated that there was reason for him to include it… and no real reason to ever disregard it completely.
Roger slumped onto the couch, feeling unexpectedly drained. He felt Mark’s eyes on him. Knew Mark was curious. He rather suddenly missed Mark and the loft. He realized how little time he had spent up here with his best friend since meeting Mimi, and let himself feel annoyed about that because it was something. It was easier when I didn’t leave the house, he thought dejectedly.
"Roger?" Mark spoke up, picking up on Roger’s mood as always. "What’s up?"
Roger lay his head back against the couch. He felt like shit. He shut his eyes and spoke to the ceiling. "The usual."
Roger heard Mark set aside his camera. Heard the chair scrape and heard Mark put a bowl in the sink. Heard Mark cross the room and felt him sit on the other end of the couch. Felt Mark’s eyes on him. He could feel tension building in the room, and he knew Mark was worrying. Mark always worried. Heaving a sigh, he lifted his head and looked at his roommate. "I’m fine."
"You’re not." Mark always had a come-back. And was usually right.
Roger didn’t say anything for a while, just looking at Mark and watching him begin to grow uncomfortable. When Mark finally blinked and looked away, coloring slightly, Roger dropped his head back onto the couch. He couldn’t suppress the smile he felt tugging at his mouth. "No, maybe not," he admitted and knew without looking that Mark had almost given himself whiplash to stare at him. "But I will be."
larinza and arnica, yours are coming. Eventually. =P
But now, it's bedtime. Definitely past so.