Post by Adrian Wolfstorm on Jun 25, 2011 17:20:56 GMT
Okay Preface warning - some might include a few adult themes (no nudity or anything like that but hints at pairings that are m/m and not totally consensual with no details given but more a build up to what might happen). All characters copyright to Victor Hugo etc. Based mainly off musical characterisastion. Enjoy. Inspiration given from serendipity most of these are short writing challenges.
Les Mis Drabble 1 - Mme Thernardier
Character: Mme. Thenardier
Theme: desire
Time allowed: 15 minutes
Mme. Thenardier sighed as she worked cleaning the dishes. She often had to wonder where she'd gone wrong? How could she have allowed that greedy ugly person to woo her? Of course, she knew exactly how. That filthy con man, a former convict at that, had managed to pursuade her that if she joined with him he'd make her rich.
She desired money, fortune, to be noticed more then anything. Where had that desire got her? In an inn with someone who wouldn't know charisma if it slapped him in the face! Even worst she desired a man who would well... make her feel like a woman! What he had in that department wasn't even worth mentioning. It was almost not even present.
All in all upon reflection, there was no desire. Nothing was left for her now. She knew she'd grown fat, and who would love her now? Who would desire her? She was stuck now in a relationship that was going no where. No desire. No love. Nothing left. A sigh left her lips. She just... desired to be.... desired. Was that so bad?
It would seem that the Lord almighty, who her husband swore didn't exist, wasn't favouring her. Maybe it was her punishment for greed. She paid no heed as he walked in to the back room. At least not until he wrapped his arms about her bulging waistline, getting her to turn a bit before feeling his lips on hers.
In that moment she felt it back again. That spark. At that moment, she felt like she was still desired. Even if it was only by the lazy toady husband of hers. At least he made her feel desired and desirable. Her joy only improved as he pulled away to place a large bag of money on the table. Money! They were going up in the world indeed! Maybe life wasn't so hard after all.
Les Mis Drabble 2 - Gavrouche
Character: Gavroche
Theme: identity
Time: 10 minutes
Gavroche had always known he was different. He had vague memory of his young life. Of a life that he could have had. He remembered an older sister. The next thing he remembered was life on the street. Right now he was wandering through the darkened alleys, kicking a stone with feet only just protected by holey shoes.
As ever he was questioning where he came from. Who he was. He was passing the ABC Cafe when he overheard heated conversation and argument. The sound of raised voices. Quietly he moved closer to a half open window just able to catch small snatches of the discussion happening within. He didn't understand much of it but suddenly he heard the words 'someone has to lead us!'.
Suddenly something in his young mind clicked. Of course! He could lead the area he lived in. The slums of St Michael – after all did anyone really know those slums as well as he? The answer to that was no. A smile lit his young face, breaking through the grime that marred the skin beneath. His eyes sparkled.
Wouldn't that no good inspector have a surprise next time he came around! He may think he ran the show, but now... now that was Gavroche! The Slums of St Michael were his! He would turn the place that had become his playground to his own city! It would be better then pretending he was one of the Lords he sometimes saw.
Anyone looking out of the window for people listening in would possibly see a slender black shadow racing off. As he raced away he gave a happy chuckle to himself. Gavroche ruler of St Michael! It had a ring to it he liked was his thoughts to himself as he relieved a richling of his purse.
He didn't need all that money, and it made such a nice gift to the poor of his domain. He could hear the angry cries behind him, quickly receding. No one knew the streets like he did. Not even that inspector. Still, he knew he had to beware. It would never do to come across Javert now. While he didn't have any parents to be taken home to he knew that wouldn't save him pain.
Javert would be quite happy to dish out a beating, no doubt worst then what even his parents would give. If he knew them. He couldn't remember them. He could remember a girl, but he was sure that was his older sister. Still, that questioning about his identity was over. He knew who he was now. He would become the leader of St Michael's slums and all the paupers in it. It was who he was now. The one behind the scenes pulling the strings.
"Que l'inspecteur pense ce qu'il veut! Gavroche connaît la vérité - c'est lui qui mène le bal!" he cried out in joy.
(NB: French badly translated to and from English no doubt by google, English is - Let the inspector think what he will! Gavroche knows the truth - it is he who runs the show!)
Caution required for the following drabble due to the pairing and the nature of the pairing
Les Mis Drabble 3 - Javert/Valjean
Characters: Javert, Jean Valjean
Word: lascivious
Time: 20 minutes
NB: Working on the definition provided by google - driven by lust; preoccupied with or exhibiting lustful desires; "libidinous orgies"
Javerts eyes narrowed as he watched over the dust shrouded realm he commanded. The dust of course was raised by the convicts, worthless scum that they were, working below him. Oh yes the work was harsh, the food little. Most of them were brawny, and well muscled despite this. Little better then animals. The worst were always the new ones.
Just like that current one that had just arrived. Oh yes he WAS a strong one. Before he had even started his life here he was strong. The number of guards to restrain him as he was branded for life displayed that one. The kicking and the loud protests of anger that he was innocent, that he had stolen only to save anothers life. This would be interesting one for him to break.
Still, there was something of interest to the cold leader of the guards of the chain gang. Something about prisoner 24601 had piqued his interest. Working in the position he did meant it wasn't often that he was able to find a bed partner, nor could he just hire a whore. They were scared of him, just like everyone was. While this was good in his line of work, it meant he spent many nights lonely, with only his right hand for company.
As he looked over the quarry they were slaving in he noted the dust settling, apart from a cloud where the prisoners were being escorted to their cells. A cry of anger and pain drifted to his ears and he smirked coldly as he recognised who it was. So 24601 had tried to kick off again, he was still learning. Maybe it was time to give him some of his own... special... brand of tuition.
He picked the cruel cat of nine that he had in small hut starting to stride down towards the cells where the animals were kept. He smiled more to himself, a thin mirthless smile showing pure enjoyment at the suffering around him. The smile only widened as he saw the evil doers already securely chained away flinch from him. A few begged him for mercy. A sneer showed through of disdain. Why should he offer them mercy – they had fallen in his mind, fallen in flame and were now Lucifers alone. The law stated that they would never change, that they would never repent. As thus they could never be trusted. A plea for mercy could result in his death, after all none of them were better then animals.
He couldn't pass Valjeans cage however. The burst of angry energy the rattling of bars, the violent curses spat at his direction, cursing his name and demanding his death and damning him to hell caused a smile to show. The same cold smile as before. "Oh no, 24601, it is not I who will end in hell, but you, you already bear Lucifers brand upon your skin" he stated.
This only brought more angry ranting, that God and Lucifer didn't exist, they were all mindless fallacies. As the convict kept up his ranting Javert took the opportunity to take in his body. Muscled, yet still slightly slender, youthful. A mane of brown hair that seemed to move with its own life only emphasizing the fury that the convict felt. As more curses erupted from the lips that seemed to permanently fix into a snarl, every word spat out with venom, Javert decided enough was enough.
Pulling the heavy ring of keys from his belt he opened the cell moving in quickly shutting the cell door behind him yet not locking it. As the feral beast inside charged at him he reacted in kind lashing out with a kick, watching with satisfaction as he crumpled to the floor. He had to note with satisfaction the tight muscles, the slight sheen of sweat making the normally shapeless uniform cling in some interesting ways. Still, no time to muse upon that.
Taking the opportunity that had so kindly presented itself to him now that 24601 was down and trrying to remember just how to breath he tangled his fist into that hair yanking on it to drag the convict to his feet. The cry of pain and the way hands desperately reached to try and relieve the pressure didn't help the lust he felt. Indeed he wasted no time dragging the convict out nodding to the guards as he passed them taking him to a small isolated hut, locking the door behind him and pushing the criminal to the rough bed.
As he had predicted immediately the base creature tried to scrabble to his feet tried to get ready to fight him. It didn't work. He enjoyed the cry of pain as Valjean felt the first bite of the cat he carried. Oh yes, this was how to break him. As the defenceless criminal started to crumple he approached starting to work on stripping the uniform from him. Although he enjoyed each part of the body it revealed, the tight powerful muscles included, he knew time was of the essence. He had longed to see this body for too long it wouldn't do to waste the chance he had.
Okay that's them all up so far, will take any criticism - expect more in time.
Les Mis Drabble 1 - Mme Thernardier
Character: Mme. Thenardier
Theme: desire
Time allowed: 15 minutes
Mme. Thenardier sighed as she worked cleaning the dishes. She often had to wonder where she'd gone wrong? How could she have allowed that greedy ugly person to woo her? Of course, she knew exactly how. That filthy con man, a former convict at that, had managed to pursuade her that if she joined with him he'd make her rich.
She desired money, fortune, to be noticed more then anything. Where had that desire got her? In an inn with someone who wouldn't know charisma if it slapped him in the face! Even worst she desired a man who would well... make her feel like a woman! What he had in that department wasn't even worth mentioning. It was almost not even present.
All in all upon reflection, there was no desire. Nothing was left for her now. She knew she'd grown fat, and who would love her now? Who would desire her? She was stuck now in a relationship that was going no where. No desire. No love. Nothing left. A sigh left her lips. She just... desired to be.... desired. Was that so bad?
It would seem that the Lord almighty, who her husband swore didn't exist, wasn't favouring her. Maybe it was her punishment for greed. She paid no heed as he walked in to the back room. At least not until he wrapped his arms about her bulging waistline, getting her to turn a bit before feeling his lips on hers.
In that moment she felt it back again. That spark. At that moment, she felt like she was still desired. Even if it was only by the lazy toady husband of hers. At least he made her feel desired and desirable. Her joy only improved as he pulled away to place a large bag of money on the table. Money! They were going up in the world indeed! Maybe life wasn't so hard after all.
Les Mis Drabble 2 - Gavrouche
Character: Gavroche
Theme: identity
Time: 10 minutes
Gavroche had always known he was different. He had vague memory of his young life. Of a life that he could have had. He remembered an older sister. The next thing he remembered was life on the street. Right now he was wandering through the darkened alleys, kicking a stone with feet only just protected by holey shoes.
As ever he was questioning where he came from. Who he was. He was passing the ABC Cafe when he overheard heated conversation and argument. The sound of raised voices. Quietly he moved closer to a half open window just able to catch small snatches of the discussion happening within. He didn't understand much of it but suddenly he heard the words 'someone has to lead us!'.
Suddenly something in his young mind clicked. Of course! He could lead the area he lived in. The slums of St Michael – after all did anyone really know those slums as well as he? The answer to that was no. A smile lit his young face, breaking through the grime that marred the skin beneath. His eyes sparkled.
Wouldn't that no good inspector have a surprise next time he came around! He may think he ran the show, but now... now that was Gavroche! The Slums of St Michael were his! He would turn the place that had become his playground to his own city! It would be better then pretending he was one of the Lords he sometimes saw.
Anyone looking out of the window for people listening in would possibly see a slender black shadow racing off. As he raced away he gave a happy chuckle to himself. Gavroche ruler of St Michael! It had a ring to it he liked was his thoughts to himself as he relieved a richling of his purse.
He didn't need all that money, and it made such a nice gift to the poor of his domain. He could hear the angry cries behind him, quickly receding. No one knew the streets like he did. Not even that inspector. Still, he knew he had to beware. It would never do to come across Javert now. While he didn't have any parents to be taken home to he knew that wouldn't save him pain.
Javert would be quite happy to dish out a beating, no doubt worst then what even his parents would give. If he knew them. He couldn't remember them. He could remember a girl, but he was sure that was his older sister. Still, that questioning about his identity was over. He knew who he was now. He would become the leader of St Michael's slums and all the paupers in it. It was who he was now. The one behind the scenes pulling the strings.
"Que l'inspecteur pense ce qu'il veut! Gavroche connaît la vérité - c'est lui qui mène le bal!" he cried out in joy.
(NB: French badly translated to and from English no doubt by google, English is - Let the inspector think what he will! Gavroche knows the truth - it is he who runs the show!)
Caution required for the following drabble due to the pairing and the nature of the pairing
Les Mis Drabble 3 - Javert/Valjean
Characters: Javert, Jean Valjean
Word: lascivious
Time: 20 minutes
NB: Working on the definition provided by google - driven by lust; preoccupied with or exhibiting lustful desires; "libidinous orgies"
Javerts eyes narrowed as he watched over the dust shrouded realm he commanded. The dust of course was raised by the convicts, worthless scum that they were, working below him. Oh yes the work was harsh, the food little. Most of them were brawny, and well muscled despite this. Little better then animals. The worst were always the new ones.
Just like that current one that had just arrived. Oh yes he WAS a strong one. Before he had even started his life here he was strong. The number of guards to restrain him as he was branded for life displayed that one. The kicking and the loud protests of anger that he was innocent, that he had stolen only to save anothers life. This would be interesting one for him to break.
Still, there was something of interest to the cold leader of the guards of the chain gang. Something about prisoner 24601 had piqued his interest. Working in the position he did meant it wasn't often that he was able to find a bed partner, nor could he just hire a whore. They were scared of him, just like everyone was. While this was good in his line of work, it meant he spent many nights lonely, with only his right hand for company.
As he looked over the quarry they were slaving in he noted the dust settling, apart from a cloud where the prisoners were being escorted to their cells. A cry of anger and pain drifted to his ears and he smirked coldly as he recognised who it was. So 24601 had tried to kick off again, he was still learning. Maybe it was time to give him some of his own... special... brand of tuition.
He picked the cruel cat of nine that he had in small hut starting to stride down towards the cells where the animals were kept. He smiled more to himself, a thin mirthless smile showing pure enjoyment at the suffering around him. The smile only widened as he saw the evil doers already securely chained away flinch from him. A few begged him for mercy. A sneer showed through of disdain. Why should he offer them mercy – they had fallen in his mind, fallen in flame and were now Lucifers alone. The law stated that they would never change, that they would never repent. As thus they could never be trusted. A plea for mercy could result in his death, after all none of them were better then animals.
He couldn't pass Valjeans cage however. The burst of angry energy the rattling of bars, the violent curses spat at his direction, cursing his name and demanding his death and damning him to hell caused a smile to show. The same cold smile as before. "Oh no, 24601, it is not I who will end in hell, but you, you already bear Lucifers brand upon your skin" he stated.
This only brought more angry ranting, that God and Lucifer didn't exist, they were all mindless fallacies. As the convict kept up his ranting Javert took the opportunity to take in his body. Muscled, yet still slightly slender, youthful. A mane of brown hair that seemed to move with its own life only emphasizing the fury that the convict felt. As more curses erupted from the lips that seemed to permanently fix into a snarl, every word spat out with venom, Javert decided enough was enough.
Pulling the heavy ring of keys from his belt he opened the cell moving in quickly shutting the cell door behind him yet not locking it. As the feral beast inside charged at him he reacted in kind lashing out with a kick, watching with satisfaction as he crumpled to the floor. He had to note with satisfaction the tight muscles, the slight sheen of sweat making the normally shapeless uniform cling in some interesting ways. Still, no time to muse upon that.
Taking the opportunity that had so kindly presented itself to him now that 24601 was down and trrying to remember just how to breath he tangled his fist into that hair yanking on it to drag the convict to his feet. The cry of pain and the way hands desperately reached to try and relieve the pressure didn't help the lust he felt. Indeed he wasted no time dragging the convict out nodding to the guards as he passed them taking him to a small isolated hut, locking the door behind him and pushing the criminal to the rough bed.
As he had predicted immediately the base creature tried to scrabble to his feet tried to get ready to fight him. It didn't work. He enjoyed the cry of pain as Valjean felt the first bite of the cat he carried. Oh yes, this was how to break him. As the defenceless criminal started to crumple he approached starting to work on stripping the uniform from him. Although he enjoyed each part of the body it revealed, the tight powerful muscles included, he knew time was of the essence. He had longed to see this body for too long it wouldn't do to waste the chance he had.
Okay that's them all up so far, will take any criticism - expect more in time.
