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fellowshippers2004-02-21 12:29 pm
xxoutofreachxx.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2004-02-21 12:29 pm
(no subject)
Title: Handë
Pairing: Domlijah (actually, it’s just implied.)
Rating: PG
Summary: Dom and his crazy “writing on his hands obsession.”
Disclaimer: I felt bad writing this while listening to the FOTR EE cast commentary. I feel bad doing this to celebrities- well, not enough to stop. I don’t own anyone, or make claims on their sexuality. I’m beginning to feel a bit guilty about it actually. Does anyone else ever feel this guilty? Anyways, Oliver the kitten belongs to my brother. I apologize for all the times I used “And” to start a sentence, but I don’t know, I like it.
Feedback: Is appreciated.
Note: All German translations come from freetranslations.com so if they’re wrong it’s not my fault.
His black childhood kitten Oliver with shiny black fur and green eyes that could sometimes be mistaken for yellow would sit with him for hours. Dom didn’t have many childhood friends, his family moved around too often. He always had Oliver. They would play with pens, or yarn, or Oliver would make it his goal to attack Dom’s toes as much as possible. They were inseparable. And one day Oliver left him, as Dom found people so often did in his life. He found himself alone with the pens and yarn. His toes were no longer marked with tiny scratches. The pen made its way to his hand. And the ink found its way to the smooth surface in a single word. Oliver.
Time went on, and Oliver was forgotten, but the pens remained with him. He wrote on his hands constantly. Ignoring his mother’s nagging, “You’ll get ink poisoning.” Dom tried concealing what he wrote after the boys at school called him a Nancy boy for writing with a pink gel pen. He only let those he cared about most share in his obsession. His mother was allowed to wash the ink away at night, warning him not to do it again. The few close friends he made at one time were allowed to write on his hands the next day. They didn’t understand what Dom was sharing with them. They didn’t understand how important it was.
lunch money.
Sleepover at Thomas’
He grew up, the way all boys do, but not enough to drop his pens and leave his partying shoes at home. His mother forgot about ink poisoning, and nagged him about girls and alcohol. Pens were replaced with markers. And markers with lipstick. American girls filled his hands with phone numbers and silly phrases. They would do anything for Dom, it was the accent that strung them in.
Cheeky.
Jen 923-6540
After a long night of harsh realizations and vodka, he wrote Gott ist tott *God is dead* on his hand with a red sharpe. He showed up at the club as usual that night, not knowing why he even came. The girls hanging off him couldn’t give Dom what he wanted. They mistook the tott for “hott” and asked him all night who he was talking about. He was insulted that they thought he was of such intelligence that he would spell hot with two t's. He shrugged them aside, and didn’t come back. American girls didn’t understand. Dom wiped away their numbers that night, because his mother was no longer there to wipe away tears, and cover wounds with band aids. Things didn’t work like that any longer.
Call Mom.
And then he met Elijah, who never asked because he understood. Or at least Dom thought he did. Liv nagged him about his practical jokes. Makeup girls complained about the work it took to remove the writing. So he stopped. Elijah noticed his unmarked hands and told him he missed all Dom’s crazy words. So he started again. Elijah had noticed the words, but Dom wasn’t sure if he felt them. He hoped someday he could share it with Elijah. He wanted Elijah to be the one writing on his hands. Writing words that so easily could be wiped away, despite what makeup girls said. Words that could never stay between them.
Love.
Forever.
When Dom wanted everyone to know what he felt, he wrote in English.
Girls Lie.
Trees.
And when they were private, he wrote in German. They were meant for someone who didn’t understand German. People would ask what it meant, and Dom saw Elijah glancing too. He told them to look it up, they weren’t nearly interested enough to actually look. And Elijah changed. They changed. Hugs became closer and lingered on longer than they had to. They stood closer then it was necessary. They brushed against each other, and didn’t apologize or pull away. Dom felt Elijah looking at him when he thought Dom wasn’t paying attention. And Dom looked at Elijah when he thought his mind was elsewhere. Billy smirked when Dom started rambling about Elijah. He would ask Billy what was so funny. “You’ll realize it sooner or later.”
Wünschenswerter Denken. *wishful thinking*
Es wird nie sein. *it’ll never be*
Ihn. *him*
Their first premiere. It was the moment of truth of how well the movie would be received. Fans he didn’t know he had lined up for miles screaming his name. They were fascinated with his hands, always asking what they said. He would fake a smile and wave. And then he would spot Elijah. Their bodies would connect and they’d hug as if they hadn’t seen each other in decades. Not wanting to let go. And they would sit next to each other in the theater, escaping the screams and glitter posters with their names. The house lights began to dim, and Elijah turned toward Dom, drawing a shaky breath. He handed Dom his pocket German-English Dictionary, and placed his hand ,marked with blue sharpie, on Dom’s knee.
Ich weiß. *I know.*
Pairing: Domlijah (actually, it’s just implied.)
Rating: PG
Summary: Dom and his crazy “writing on his hands obsession.”
Disclaimer: I felt bad writing this while listening to the FOTR EE cast commentary. I feel bad doing this to celebrities- well, not enough to stop. I don’t own anyone, or make claims on their sexuality. I’m beginning to feel a bit guilty about it actually. Does anyone else ever feel this guilty? Anyways, Oliver the kitten belongs to my brother. I apologize for all the times I used “And” to start a sentence, but I don’t know, I like it.
Feedback: Is appreciated.
Note: All German translations come from freetranslations.com so if they’re wrong it’s not my fault.
His black childhood kitten Oliver with shiny black fur and green eyes that could sometimes be mistaken for yellow would sit with him for hours. Dom didn’t have many childhood friends, his family moved around too often. He always had Oliver. They would play with pens, or yarn, or Oliver would make it his goal to attack Dom’s toes as much as possible. They were inseparable. And one day Oliver left him, as Dom found people so often did in his life. He found himself alone with the pens and yarn. His toes were no longer marked with tiny scratches. The pen made its way to his hand. And the ink found its way to the smooth surface in a single word. Oliver.
Time went on, and Oliver was forgotten, but the pens remained with him. He wrote on his hands constantly. Ignoring his mother’s nagging, “You’ll get ink poisoning.” Dom tried concealing what he wrote after the boys at school called him a Nancy boy for writing with a pink gel pen. He only let those he cared about most share in his obsession. His mother was allowed to wash the ink away at night, warning him not to do it again. The few close friends he made at one time were allowed to write on his hands the next day. They didn’t understand what Dom was sharing with them. They didn’t understand how important it was.
lunch money.
Sleepover at Thomas’
He grew up, the way all boys do, but not enough to drop his pens and leave his partying shoes at home. His mother forgot about ink poisoning, and nagged him about girls and alcohol. Pens were replaced with markers. And markers with lipstick. American girls filled his hands with phone numbers and silly phrases. They would do anything for Dom, it was the accent that strung them in.
Cheeky.
Jen 923-6540
After a long night of harsh realizations and vodka, he wrote Gott ist tott *God is dead* on his hand with a red sharpe. He showed up at the club as usual that night, not knowing why he even came. The girls hanging off him couldn’t give Dom what he wanted. They mistook the tott for “hott” and asked him all night who he was talking about. He was insulted that they thought he was of such intelligence that he would spell hot with two t's. He shrugged them aside, and didn’t come back. American girls didn’t understand. Dom wiped away their numbers that night, because his mother was no longer there to wipe away tears, and cover wounds with band aids. Things didn’t work like that any longer.
Call Mom.
And then he met Elijah, who never asked because he understood. Or at least Dom thought he did. Liv nagged him about his practical jokes. Makeup girls complained about the work it took to remove the writing. So he stopped. Elijah noticed his unmarked hands and told him he missed all Dom’s crazy words. So he started again. Elijah had noticed the words, but Dom wasn’t sure if he felt them. He hoped someday he could share it with Elijah. He wanted Elijah to be the one writing on his hands. Writing words that so easily could be wiped away, despite what makeup girls said. Words that could never stay between them.
Love.
Forever.
When Dom wanted everyone to know what he felt, he wrote in English.
Girls Lie.
Trees.
And when they were private, he wrote in German. They were meant for someone who didn’t understand German. People would ask what it meant, and Dom saw Elijah glancing too. He told them to look it up, they weren’t nearly interested enough to actually look. And Elijah changed. They changed. Hugs became closer and lingered on longer than they had to. They stood closer then it was necessary. They brushed against each other, and didn’t apologize or pull away. Dom felt Elijah looking at him when he thought Dom wasn’t paying attention. And Dom looked at Elijah when he thought his mind was elsewhere. Billy smirked when Dom started rambling about Elijah. He would ask Billy what was so funny. “You’ll realize it sooner or later.”
Wünschenswerter Denken. *wishful thinking*
Es wird nie sein. *it’ll never be*
Ihn. *him*
Their first premiere. It was the moment of truth of how well the movie would be received. Fans he didn’t know he had lined up for miles screaming his name. They were fascinated with his hands, always asking what they said. He would fake a smile and wave. And then he would spot Elijah. Their bodies would connect and they’d hug as if they hadn’t seen each other in decades. Not wanting to let go. And they would sit next to each other in the theater, escaping the screams and glitter posters with their names. The house lights began to dim, and Elijah turned toward Dom, drawing a shaky breath. He handed Dom his pocket German-English Dictionary, and placed his hand ,marked with blue sharpie, on Dom’s knee.
Ich weiß. *I know.*
no subject
Beautiful story, wonderfully crafted. And the end? So much love for it. :)
no subject
no subject
Just a little note: I'm assuming the title is 'hands', if so the correct spelling is 'hände'. Only a little thing, the rest of the German is right :)
no subject
Anyway, wonderfully rendered interpretation of Dom's hand-writing here! I loved the kitten element, though it hurt. Then again, I'm of the mindset that good writing should hurt a little.
p.s. Has felt guilty too. (<--regarding your disclaimer)
yay!