dw fic amnesty
I was looking through my old Dreamwidth from last summer (oh my God, the memories, nostalgia is suffocating me) & found my fic journal there. I didn't cross-post, to my knowledge, any of these fics to LJ. All else on DW had a mirror here, or was pretty much disposable navel-gazing, but I really liked these drabbles, so I thought I'd give them new life in another place?
First, drabble jam with Jordi
You're a Cad ; The Bird and the Bee
Grimmjow/Ichigo
Grimmjow wasn't the romantic type. Which was okay, because Ichigo wasn't really either. Grimmjow was a down-right asshole and that was okay, because Ichigo could be at times too. Grimmjow was relentless, violent, disgusting, and at times that wasn't okay because Ichigo could be a gentleman if he got it right. If you polished just at the right angle. But to clean and polish Grimmjow was to rub the spots over on the apple again and again with no avail -- some parts were rotten. Ichigo didn't know why he bothered at times because Grimmjow's nature had so much friction against the better parts of his, so much bothersome pointless arguments arose, but the friction also lent itself well to a perfect storm of never possibly being bored. Ichigo couldn't apologize for him, but no one expected him to.
---
Maps ; Yeah Yeah Yeahs
Neil/Tieria
Tonight, it wasn't Neil's face Tieria saw when he closed his eyes. It wasn't even his voice he heard whenever he listened to the drum of his own blood in his ears in the silence, the only light a steady electric glow from a digital clock in the corner. It wasn't because he didn't hear his voice every night, it wasn't because he didn't see his face, it wasn't because every single night when he dreamed there he was, at different points in a possible second life, or just simply holding out his hand, asking for Tieria to join him where ever he had gone. It was because Tieria tried not to see that face and hear that voice when he was alone, and felt like this, whatever this was. If it crept into his mind he would feel his chest restrict and feel those emotions he wondered if he possessed long ago would flood him. Now there was no question. Neil brought out his humanity in a crashing, banging and heart-breaking force. It wasn't because he didn't feel him everywhere, he did. He just tried not to for the sake of breaking his heart open with every thought and laying bare, feeling it in his fingertips even, wondering what he'd see tonight when he slept.
---
Wish I ; Jem
Ichigo/Rukia
It was pretty mushy, wasn't it? It wasn't the type of things you got cards for, not that sort of mushy, really. But all the same it made Ichigo feel silly to admit it to himself. He smiled that evening on the hill, when the air was so warm and soft and everything felt put it to rest. He smiled when she said, I'm staying. And at the time, it didn't start to chip away at him until he saw the doors close on Soul Society and part of him was left there too. He would never say it outright and even if he did say it, it would be sarcastically, or blaming her, but she had changed his life. That didn't come along every week. Did he just simply miss her? It was somehow different from that. It was like asking if he missed part of himself, which was hard to explain, because he'd never left part of himself behind anywhere. He had a feeling if he did, this is what it would feel like. A strange, wistful sort of thing. He knew his other half was doing well, but somehow he wanted himself to be whole again.
---
Unknown; Steadfast
Stein/Marie
To plunge into a relationship with Stein was to give oneself over to something wholly unlike what one has experienced before. Marie had known this and that's why things had not turned out exactly smooth the first go around. But she was just a girl then, wasn't she? He was already himself at that point, which is to say he had already succumbed to his almost entirely narcissistic and terrifying outlook on life. That was what had drawn her in the first time. He was a terribly fascinating man, admittedly. And now, after BJ had been killed, sides of him that she didn't know had emerged. Small, caring gestures that comforted instead of confused, grown from maturity no doubt. To plunge into a relationship would be crazy, she tells herself. So I'll go slowly. Possible by that time, she'll have gotten used to the bumps in the ride.
---
Clark Gable; The Postal Service
Allelujah/Marie
Allelujah had a whole lifetime of living to live. He had considered it many times, that strange way his life had turned out. Passing people on the streets, they knew such different paths to that one moment when their shoulders brushed with his. Normality was only a word. What was normal? Movies and television and ... He never watched movies, never watched television but discovering the pleasures of small things with Marie, he realizes, watching black and white figures move on a screen, what was he missing? He misses nothing as long as she's here, watching a couple romance each other in a way that neither of them are a stranger to, Marie's fingers finding his in the dark. The kiss on screen may be more dramatic but if people only felt half the passion he felt for her, they wouldn't have to seek things from anything but the small things in their own lives.
---
Combat Baby ; Metric
Nnoitra/Tesla
"What are you doing here?" His voice is cold and even with his back turned, he is an imposing figure, towering over the fallen bodies strewn around him. Tesla cowers for a second and wonders if outright asking will get him something worse than waiting for the man to turn, to see that slow half-moon smile cross his face perversely, the last thing he will undoubtedly see before he is cut down.
He thinks, figures it would be best to speak, even if it's to whimper.
Which is what comes out and he bites his lip.
Nnoitra turns, his weapon hoisted high and resting on his shoulder at the same time, how large is its size. "Don't hide." He says it like a fox drawing out a small mouse. But then he smiles, and it's somehow scarier than a grimace. "I can tell you ain't here to fight me, I know that from just standing near you."
The grin lowers. "Don't hide, you aren't worth killing."
This is somehow a comfort.
---
Mushaboom ; Feist
Urahara/Yoruichi
In the spring the sun warms the air and the ground and Yoruichi loves to picnic in the fields surrounding the Seireitei, often bringing along Urahara. This time, it is a celebratory feast of vegetables and breads and other portable items as they stretch out under a tree, the blanket crinkling over the grass.
They say nothing, which is how it's always been between them, a sort of understood comfortable settling. Both of them have understood each other seemingly from the beginning of time and Yoruichi wonders if anything will change this.
*
100 years later and they inhabitants of the Urahara Shoten leave the store for once, for the park, to let the kids see the cherry blossoms. Urahara stands in the doorway and asks if she'd like to come and she accompanies him as a black cat, riding on top of the basket and realizes no matter what form, what world, what time, things never will.
---
Don't Panic ; Coldplay
Nnoitra/Neliel
Hollows are only the ghosts of bad deaths. In rebirth they become the anger, the violence. Neliel doesn't like to think these things, even though most of them don't consider it. She sees herself a warrior but her walls are foundations built of things Aizen-sama has told them and the only difference is she sees over the walls and the ones that break them down. Nnoitra breaks through her walls, fists and weapons raised like doubt. She hates that he brings out the monster in her and that's what he goads her to do. Fight, bloody each other up. He makes her lose the humanity. But she wonders if in some small way, she doesn't bring out the sanity in him, bring out the human-like ways the Arrancar possess. It's something she can only wonder about.
Second, drabble requests.
Gundam 00, gen--
Setsuna had never heard in his much younger days any stress on the individual and its role in society. In the KPSA, they all fought for the glory of God, and were propped under an umbrella that shielded doubt from their minds, an umbrella constructed of fear, guilt. They weren't one, they were one of many in a body that had no free will. What Setsuna thought was thought for him. In Celestial Being, one doesn't act without the others, they are a team moving in unison, with goals as well as machines. Though, Setsuna can walk away at any time. The difference is free will, the difference is doubt is not a sin and the difference is that these are his comrades, not a part of himself. He is Setsuna, whole and different, even though he moves in the same direction, he is himself. One.
Tieria Erde once remarks at a division between their ideas, "Commitment to the mission is above all." He doesn't show any sign of amusement on his face in those days, just closed lips and crossed arms. He opens his mouth again and adds, "There is no 'I' in team." Lockon Stratos puts his arm around Setsuna and jabs at a gloved finger in the air and laughs. "But there is a 'me'!" He says this annoy Tieria good-naturedly, but Setsuna realizes the meaning behind what any of them take for granted: at least there can be disagreement between them.
Setsuna never dreamed about moving amongst the stars or feeling the power in his hands to shape the world. What child, especially a dirty-faced boy with a gun in his hand and his mind made up for him would? But he recalls vividly so many times seeing the Gundam, the closest thing to God he's ever witnessed, hovering in air that afternoon. It becomes like a symbol in his mind of a turn-around, at least internally. This is what can be the future. This is what you can become. No one ever says he can become anything more than what he is, but Setsuna knows as long as he imagines the symbol of change and shape, his Gundam, he is at least free.
Cowboy Bebop, Spike/Julia --
They don't talk for a while after they make love for the first time. Not because words won't come. To Spike, there is a world of words constructed on his tongue and all of them say the same thing, have the same meaning: this was wrong, but I don't regret it. He can feel in Julia's movements next to him, her reluctance to move closer, but their hips touch as they lie next to each other. The silence isn't awkward, just painful and both of them are breathing heavily, so words aren't needed now. Spike takes a close look at her face in profile against the streetlights and closes his eyes, seeing her face distorted behind his eyelids for a second before it fades. He can't imagine what this is the start of, something good, bad, something both at the same time.
Even though he already knew this, since it's a good way to figure out your opponent's next move in a fight and weed out liars, he read years ago that body language speaks louder than words. Things like palms up mean being open, hands together, arms crossed means closed. What does it mean, when he opens his eyes and looks next to him, when she's lying on her back, hands itching to get close to him again?
He knows that's what the gesture means, when she sits up and reaches over for a second. Hand pauses and she uses it to scratch her arm, bed sheets clinging to her breasts.
She opens her mouth but the only word that comes out is his name.
"Yeah," he says, not answering her, not asking. What he says is an agreement to her movements and feelings, which say what he wants to say: this was wrong, what did we do.
Their eyes meet, lit only by the light from the windows and Julia gives him one of those slow, tiny smiles of hers. I don't regret it.
Bleach, LOOOOLOLOL --
Grimmjow looks furtively over his shoulder and adjusts his headphones. If anyone knew what he was doing in the computer room, alone, he wouldn't hear the end of it. In fact, he made expressly sure he'd be alone tonight. No Fraccion, no other Espada, not even Aizen himself would know. Just his secret. He shivers, thinking. It was cold in here, but the trembling came from many sources. Hearing this song again and the fear, the fear that he would be discovered.
"Gee gee gee gee baby ..."
He grins a perverse smile and watches the girls on the screen dance, and imagines, surprisingly, not doing them all one after another, but dancing with them, freeing himself and letting go in the music. His secret passion that can never be realized that even he doesn't understand. It makes no sense. His way is that of destruction and violence. He feels best when blood is under his nails and he's looking down on his beaten opponent. But damn if these bitches aren't cute.
Lost in thought for a second, he closes his eyes and swivels in the chair in time, mouthing the lyrics and doesn't hear the footsteps approaching, the door creaking, or the feeling of another behind him. He thinks of nothing but hip shakes and dare he say it, kawaii lyrics until there is a furtive cough behind him that makes him freeze in horror.
"Hmm," says Ulquiorra, as he looks past a horrified and angry Grimmjow, "your music taste is trash."
Bleach, Nnoitra/Neliel --
The one thing that drove Nnoitra also destroyed him and he didn't stop to think how strange and chaotic that was. One of the forces behind his meaning was also the thing that ate away at him. Her seemingly cold eyes, looks only cast at him. Her power, only exerted over him. Nnoitra thought plenty on that, imagined her face in his mind a dozen times and it was in different ways, writhing under his touch or blood-smeared, depending on how he felt at the moment but the overriding vision was one of her eyes softening, not conceding, but acknowledging. He did not let himself see this much, as it was the expression he'd never extracted from her, by force, by anything.
When the clouds had parted and Neliel had risen again -- that's what she did, she rose from underneath his grasp again -- the look upon her face was determination, anger, everything that had pissed him off about her before and driven him insane about her. What fed him would kill him. That's what it was about Neliel, it was strange passion in every way.
When Nnoitra died, his mind wasn't blissfully blank, wasn't full of rage, wasn't a reaction he could've ever imagined himself having moments before death. He remembered Neliel. She'd long since returned to her old form, but as he fell he caught her eyes again and the look he found there wasn't what he was searching for but it was just as well. A flicker, on the visage of someone who had previously forgotten him, of concern and remembrance and he couldn't even begin to imagine what she thought, if anything, but he could only hope she was mourning for a fellow warrior.
Bleach, gen --
If there was one thing Hirako Shinji prided himself on -- and this was a vanity sort of quality, but what was pride except some part of ego? -- it was his cool. He never said as much as he'd liked on the topic, but cool guys didn't talk about cool. Cool was a state of mind as much as dress and people could scoff, but he knew what it took to have it down. The walk, the attitude, everything. There wasn't one person in this world that had more chill than he possessed and he lived his life by this code. He lived his ultra-hip lifestyle by this belief, that he alone was the supreme mac daddy of the good time and --
"Hey, baldy," said Hiyori, throwing the box of laundry detergent at Shinji, "if you're going to listen to music while you do laundry, at least pick something that doesn't suck."
He glared at her and she sneered back, and instead of grimacing at face and sticking out his tongue, he popped his yellow rubber gloves back on and rolled his eyes. People would never understand.
FINALLY, longer-than-a-drabble Soul Eater fic!
Title: Your Immediate Future
Words: 2240ish
Rating: PG
"I can't offer you proof," said Spirit. He was lying in a manner Stein thought of as "funeral style", on their couch.
His red hair was a rumpled mess underneath him as he crossed his arms against his chest rigidly and his eyes, though closed, look on the verge of tears. They had that funny crinkle and his lip was down-turned. "I can't offer you proof," he repeated. "But I'm taking her word for it."
"You can't panic," said Stein, somewhat disdainfully, "if you're not one hundred percent certain."
"This is preemptive panic," countered Spirit, his eyes snapping open. His fingers dug into his arms and he avoided Stein's gaze, which was relentless and Stein found this unduly amusing and continued to do so, just to make Spirit uncomfortable. "This is the panic before the panic, you know."
"When is the real panic going to set in?" Stein slid onto the arm of the chair and Spirit finally met his gaze, glaring.
"You ask the worst questions."
"If you didn't want me to be curious, you shouldn't have told me. This is something you've done, Senpai. Which I was pretty certain would happen sooner or later," he added as an afterthought. "I'm mainly just curious at your reaction."
"What's wrong with my reaction?" Spirit sat up, tufts of hair akimbo at the back of his head. "This is a perfectly reasonable reaction!" A fist landed on the back of the couch to signify his seriousness, but to Stein it seemed like a child throwing a tantrum. Spirit threw his face into his palms.
"You seem more angry than surprised."
"Of course I'm angry!" Spirit's voice was muffled and Stein sighed.
"Like I said this is something you've done, so who are you angry with?"
"My- I'm angry with h-- dammit, why are you playing psychologist with me?" Lifting his head and blowing his bangs from his face, he muttered, "No psychologists don't play mind games with people."
Even Stein, who lived in his own seemingly self-centered and strange bubble, understood these things. These things being the basic physiology of human beings. Which Spirit apparently didn't at age 16, because his girlfriend (of this fortnight) claimed to be pregnant. Stein only believed this facetiously, Spirit's ignorance. Spirit's first words when he finally got the courage to tell anyone were, in a trembling voice, "I've been so careful." As far as Stein could see, he'd told no one but Stein, believing him to be a safe bet at this point, the point of almost uncertainty. To be honest, Stein really wasn't interested one way or another, but it was fun to confuse Spirit himself.
Who confused very very easily, especially in states like this.
"This will ruin everything!" Spirit cried, thumping the couch again.
"What's everything?"
"My life," said Spirit, being honest with himself for once. "I'm going to take a bath. If I don't come back in an hour, keep waiting."
"What about two hours?"
"I'm probably dead." Spirit frowned, opened his mouth to say something else and then waved his hand. "Don't laugh at me too much behind my back while I'm gone, okay?"
Stein's face was a blank.
*
Three hours later, Stein knocked on the door.
The bathroom light was still on and sound of a small oscillating fan could be heard inside. If he was planning on electrocuting himself with that, he'd waited about an hour past due. Stein knocked again.
"What?" A splashing noise.
"I've made dinner," said Stein. In truth, he'd made himself soup and recipe fed two people. He wasn't sure if Spirit would still be alive at this point, so he didn't plan ahead too much. In truth, he knew Spirit was a coward about that sort of thing. They could bravely become partners, but the thought of Spirit killing himself was so grossly out of character. In any case, Stein stored Spirit's portion in the fridge to eat later if he was dead. More surprising things had happened.
"I don't want any."
"I'm not going to beg you." Stein thought for a moment. "You're still in the tub, right? How is that even comfortable after this long?"
"Go away, you bastard."
It was a simple question, but Stein raised his eyebrows and left anyway.
*
Stein's eyesight was becoming blurred by the light of the small desk lamp. The sun had gone down a bit previously and hunched over his books he wasn't in the market for interrupting himself from studying to turn on the light switch. But his back had begun to hurt and his hand was cramping, so he decided to give himself a break and do so. The rest of Spirit's soup might be tasty at this point too. As soon as his hand had flicked the switch, he heard a low, almost moaning cry.
"Steeeeeeein."
Stein had to pass the bathroom to get to the kitchen or he'd otherwise ignore it. It didn't sound like a pained cry, just an annoyed and needy one.
He opened the door quietly and stuck his head in the hall listening for the call again. Perhaps he could walk quietly --
"Steeeeeeein. Come here."
Spirit probably couldn't hear him over the fan and his own misery ringing in his ears, but he added: "I know you're there, I need you."
Stein shuffled into the hallway and leaned against the bathroom door. "What?"
"I need something to eat."
"I ate your soup." Or was about to, but Spirit didn't need to know that.
"Make me a sandwich then ... please."
Stein opened his mouth to flatly say no, but Spirit said, plainly and almost sadly, "Please, Stein. The door is open. Just a cheese sandwich."
Stein rolled his eyes and walked into the kitchen, not explaining his own actions to himself.
*
"The door is open?"
"Well," said Spirit from inside, "it's not locked."
Stein held the tray against his chest and balanced it with one hand precariously, opening the door with the other.
The sight was interesting. Spirit was sitting in the bathtub of seemingly cold water, in a pair of boxers, books and magazines stacked next to the tub. One of his legs rested on the side and the other on the facet, his hair held back with a tie and a frown on his face, which melted into a smile in the harsh light of the overhead bathroom light when he saw Stein.
"Just ... just leave it on the toilet..." Spirit stared as Stein set down the tray. On it was two cheese sandwiches with mustard and a glass of milk. "You brought me milk?"
"You can't drink bathwater," Stein replied simply. It was true.
"Thanks," said Spirit, with a strange half-smile. A pruny hand snaked out and grabbed a sandwich and as Stein shut the door behind him he could Spirit say, with a mouthful, "Thanks a lot."
*
The next morning was Saturday and Stein's first thoughts upon awaking were simple thoughts, breakfast and then morbid morbid curiosity about what Spirit had done that night. Truthfully, the second thought was needing to use the bathroom badly and he realized Spirit was camping out in the bath in his ridiculous state of depression. Stein would have to see if he'd fallen asleep in the tub. Which could possibly have drowned him. It would be interesting to see how exactly he'd slept in a tub of cold water, but first, important things like breakfast.
Stein rolled his head on his pillow to look at the clock on his nightstand. 9:05 AM. He'd slept in a little later that he'd wished. After bringing Spirit his meal he'd retired back to his room with a warmed-up bowl of Spirit's soup and a book. Sometime around 10:00 PM, Spirit began to sing, almost drunkenly, some song about being depressed and heartache or something stupid. He stopped singing a little while after and Stein had heard nothing further from him. He imagined he might've fallen asleep at this point, Spirit had.
The floor was cold when Stein stood up on it and he stretched, wondering when Spirit was going to be mature and find out something concrete before falling apart as he had. He suspected he'd wallow a bit.
Perhaps it was time to run him out of the bathroom and use it, as it was a bit unfair of Spirit to hog it in his throes of pity.
Stein picked up his empty soup bowl and walked into the dark hall, the only source of sunlight the living room and he knocked on the door of the bathroom. Knocked again. No reply. Stein went to find cereal.
*
After breakfast, washing both of his dishes, Stein was pretty certain he couldn't hold it anymore and he knocked a little hard on the door. "Senpai," he said sternly. "Senpai." He noticed, though, the door wasn't ajar and Stein pushed it open and was presented with an empty bathtub. A bit disgusting, the glass holding the milk empty and floating in the tub with soggy crusts.
Huh, it seemed Spirit had melted. He hadn't heard a door open, so that was his first thought. Fascinating. He'd collect a sample later and put it in the drawer he'd mentally labeled "Senpai", full of notebooks with data on his experiments on Spirit. Interesting and -- But Stein looked down and hadn't noticed this before, but wet footprints, still very fresh led from the tub to the hallway. The only towel that had been left inside was rumpled and thrown on the floor. Stein went inside and used the bathroom -- very very gratefully -- before following the footsteps which had begun to dry.
So he'd made a quiet escape.
The nearer they got to Spirit's room, the fresher and wetter they were until he looked up and there, in the window, in a pair of wet boxers, his tied hair wet and shivering, was Spirit. He was crouched in the open window with his hands on either side to support himself.
"I can't take it Stein!" he said, and closed his eyes dramatically. "I can't take it anymore. I've been going over all the thoughts and bad things all night and ... do you know what this will do? I'm too young! I was so stupid ... I ..."
"So are you going to jump?" Stein leaned against the door frame.
"... Of course I am!" Spirit looked pained at the implication that he wasn't.
"Right now?"
"Yes!" Spirit opened his eyes and knitted his eyebrows. "And that will be the story of me ... Spirit Albarn, aged 16, ruined early on ..."
Stein sighed. "You've got everything to live for," he said, without much conviction, but Spirit stopped shaking his head and looked at Stein, his expression softer.
Stein thought of all the fortune cookie sayings he'd remember. Almost tonelessly, he recited, " 'It doesn't matter. Who is without a flaw?' ' A scholars ink lasts longer than a martyrs blood.' Err ..." He stopped for a moment and realized Spirit was hanging on his every word. " 'A thrilling time is in your immediate future'!" he said excitedly, excited at having successfully remembered another, but Spirit mistook this display of emotion as something entirely different, which Stein didn't mind, because he climbed, somewhat squelchily, out of the window.
"Is everything going to be okay?" Spirit asked, very honestly. He wiped his nose and lowered himself onto the bed. Stein realized he was crying.
"Who knows?" said Stein, but it wasn't said sarcastically. He just stood rigidly in the doorway and frowned. "But you have to get concrete proof before you can fall apart. Then you can."
He was being serious, but Spirit laughed. It was a welcome sound.
*
Spirit had gone out a few minutes after lunch, to rendezvous with what he called "his lady". His face was grim, but determined. Stein wouldn't argue with having to do dishes again if Spirit wouldn't sulk around here anymore. Whatever the outcome, Spirit would perhaps face it differently than falling apart. His determined face had said that plainly and he'd said that plainly himself. "I gotta be a man."
Stein spent the afternoon studying on the couch and around 3, the shadows began to grow longer from the window and his feet felt cold, but the only blanket was in his bedroom. He'd began to get sleepy, sitting there reading right now, but tests were coming up soon and he wondered if Spirit, so wrapped up in his own world had realized. He'd probably cram a few hours before any tests, true to his style. Whatever. Stein set the book on the coffee table amidst many others and walked to the bedroom.
No sooner had he reached the door, than the front door slammed and a triumphant voice cried out, "Stein! STEIN! She got a test done, she got two tests done, it was a false alarm!" Stein soon appeared in the living room, blanket in hand, to see Spirit dancing wildly in the floor. "She's all right! We're all right! Stein, this is amazing, I have my whole life ahead of me."
Stein smiled slightly and before he could open his mouth Spirit danced over and said, "Let's make a steak for dinner! And peas, you love peas! And ... a cake! We're going to bake a cake to celebrate."
Little did Spirit know that Stein's very off-handed prediction, said in times of almost duress, would come true. 'A thrilling time is in your immediate future.'
Spirit had two years.
IDK ?_? Have fun reading. I might like these well enough to pop my "posting fic in public" cherry.
First, drabble jam with Jordi
You're a Cad ; The Bird and the Bee
Grimmjow/Ichigo
Grimmjow wasn't the romantic type. Which was okay, because Ichigo wasn't really either. Grimmjow was a down-right asshole and that was okay, because Ichigo could be at times too. Grimmjow was relentless, violent, disgusting, and at times that wasn't okay because Ichigo could be a gentleman if he got it right. If you polished just at the right angle. But to clean and polish Grimmjow was to rub the spots over on the apple again and again with no avail -- some parts were rotten. Ichigo didn't know why he bothered at times because Grimmjow's nature had so much friction against the better parts of his, so much bothersome pointless arguments arose, but the friction also lent itself well to a perfect storm of never possibly being bored. Ichigo couldn't apologize for him, but no one expected him to.
---
Maps ; Yeah Yeah Yeahs
Neil/Tieria
Tonight, it wasn't Neil's face Tieria saw when he closed his eyes. It wasn't even his voice he heard whenever he listened to the drum of his own blood in his ears in the silence, the only light a steady electric glow from a digital clock in the corner. It wasn't because he didn't hear his voice every night, it wasn't because he didn't see his face, it wasn't because every single night when he dreamed there he was, at different points in a possible second life, or just simply holding out his hand, asking for Tieria to join him where ever he had gone. It was because Tieria tried not to see that face and hear that voice when he was alone, and felt like this, whatever this was. If it crept into his mind he would feel his chest restrict and feel those emotions he wondered if he possessed long ago would flood him. Now there was no question. Neil brought out his humanity in a crashing, banging and heart-breaking force. It wasn't because he didn't feel him everywhere, he did. He just tried not to for the sake of breaking his heart open with every thought and laying bare, feeling it in his fingertips even, wondering what he'd see tonight when he slept.
---
Wish I ; Jem
Ichigo/Rukia
It was pretty mushy, wasn't it? It wasn't the type of things you got cards for, not that sort of mushy, really. But all the same it made Ichigo feel silly to admit it to himself. He smiled that evening on the hill, when the air was so warm and soft and everything felt put it to rest. He smiled when she said, I'm staying. And at the time, it didn't start to chip away at him until he saw the doors close on Soul Society and part of him was left there too. He would never say it outright and even if he did say it, it would be sarcastically, or blaming her, but she had changed his life. That didn't come along every week. Did he just simply miss her? It was somehow different from that. It was like asking if he missed part of himself, which was hard to explain, because he'd never left part of himself behind anywhere. He had a feeling if he did, this is what it would feel like. A strange, wistful sort of thing. He knew his other half was doing well, but somehow he wanted himself to be whole again.
---
Unknown; Steadfast
Stein/Marie
To plunge into a relationship with Stein was to give oneself over to something wholly unlike what one has experienced before. Marie had known this and that's why things had not turned out exactly smooth the first go around. But she was just a girl then, wasn't she? He was already himself at that point, which is to say he had already succumbed to his almost entirely narcissistic and terrifying outlook on life. That was what had drawn her in the first time. He was a terribly fascinating man, admittedly. And now, after BJ had been killed, sides of him that she didn't know had emerged. Small, caring gestures that comforted instead of confused, grown from maturity no doubt. To plunge into a relationship would be crazy, she tells herself. So I'll go slowly. Possible by that time, she'll have gotten used to the bumps in the ride.
---
Clark Gable; The Postal Service
Allelujah/Marie
Allelujah had a whole lifetime of living to live. He had considered it many times, that strange way his life had turned out. Passing people on the streets, they knew such different paths to that one moment when their shoulders brushed with his. Normality was only a word. What was normal? Movies and television and ... He never watched movies, never watched television but discovering the pleasures of small things with Marie, he realizes, watching black and white figures move on a screen, what was he missing? He misses nothing as long as she's here, watching a couple romance each other in a way that neither of them are a stranger to, Marie's fingers finding his in the dark. The kiss on screen may be more dramatic but if people only felt half the passion he felt for her, they wouldn't have to seek things from anything but the small things in their own lives.
---
Combat Baby ; Metric
Nnoitra/Tesla
"What are you doing here?" His voice is cold and even with his back turned, he is an imposing figure, towering over the fallen bodies strewn around him. Tesla cowers for a second and wonders if outright asking will get him something worse than waiting for the man to turn, to see that slow half-moon smile cross his face perversely, the last thing he will undoubtedly see before he is cut down.
He thinks, figures it would be best to speak, even if it's to whimper.
Which is what comes out and he bites his lip.
Nnoitra turns, his weapon hoisted high and resting on his shoulder at the same time, how large is its size. "Don't hide." He says it like a fox drawing out a small mouse. But then he smiles, and it's somehow scarier than a grimace. "I can tell you ain't here to fight me, I know that from just standing near you."
The grin lowers. "Don't hide, you aren't worth killing."
This is somehow a comfort.
---
Mushaboom ; Feist
Urahara/Yoruichi
In the spring the sun warms the air and the ground and Yoruichi loves to picnic in the fields surrounding the Seireitei, often bringing along Urahara. This time, it is a celebratory feast of vegetables and breads and other portable items as they stretch out under a tree, the blanket crinkling over the grass.
They say nothing, which is how it's always been between them, a sort of understood comfortable settling. Both of them have understood each other seemingly from the beginning of time and Yoruichi wonders if anything will change this.
*
100 years later and they inhabitants of the Urahara Shoten leave the store for once, for the park, to let the kids see the cherry blossoms. Urahara stands in the doorway and asks if she'd like to come and she accompanies him as a black cat, riding on top of the basket and realizes no matter what form, what world, what time, things never will.
---
Don't Panic ; Coldplay
Nnoitra/Neliel
Hollows are only the ghosts of bad deaths. In rebirth they become the anger, the violence. Neliel doesn't like to think these things, even though most of them don't consider it. She sees herself a warrior but her walls are foundations built of things Aizen-sama has told them and the only difference is she sees over the walls and the ones that break them down. Nnoitra breaks through her walls, fists and weapons raised like doubt. She hates that he brings out the monster in her and that's what he goads her to do. Fight, bloody each other up. He makes her lose the humanity. But she wonders if in some small way, she doesn't bring out the sanity in him, bring out the human-like ways the Arrancar possess. It's something she can only wonder about.
Second, drabble requests.
Gundam 00, gen--
Setsuna had never heard in his much younger days any stress on the individual and its role in society. In the KPSA, they all fought for the glory of God, and were propped under an umbrella that shielded doubt from their minds, an umbrella constructed of fear, guilt. They weren't one, they were one of many in a body that had no free will. What Setsuna thought was thought for him. In Celestial Being, one doesn't act without the others, they are a team moving in unison, with goals as well as machines. Though, Setsuna can walk away at any time. The difference is free will, the difference is doubt is not a sin and the difference is that these are his comrades, not a part of himself. He is Setsuna, whole and different, even though he moves in the same direction, he is himself. One.
Tieria Erde once remarks at a division between their ideas, "Commitment to the mission is above all." He doesn't show any sign of amusement on his face in those days, just closed lips and crossed arms. He opens his mouth again and adds, "There is no 'I' in team." Lockon Stratos puts his arm around Setsuna and jabs at a gloved finger in the air and laughs. "But there is a 'me'!" He says this annoy Tieria good-naturedly, but Setsuna realizes the meaning behind what any of them take for granted: at least there can be disagreement between them.
Setsuna never dreamed about moving amongst the stars or feeling the power in his hands to shape the world. What child, especially a dirty-faced boy with a gun in his hand and his mind made up for him would? But he recalls vividly so many times seeing the Gundam, the closest thing to God he's ever witnessed, hovering in air that afternoon. It becomes like a symbol in his mind of a turn-around, at least internally. This is what can be the future. This is what you can become. No one ever says he can become anything more than what he is, but Setsuna knows as long as he imagines the symbol of change and shape, his Gundam, he is at least free.
Cowboy Bebop, Spike/Julia --
They don't talk for a while after they make love for the first time. Not because words won't come. To Spike, there is a world of words constructed on his tongue and all of them say the same thing, have the same meaning: this was wrong, but I don't regret it. He can feel in Julia's movements next to him, her reluctance to move closer, but their hips touch as they lie next to each other. The silence isn't awkward, just painful and both of them are breathing heavily, so words aren't needed now. Spike takes a close look at her face in profile against the streetlights and closes his eyes, seeing her face distorted behind his eyelids for a second before it fades. He can't imagine what this is the start of, something good, bad, something both at the same time.
Even though he already knew this, since it's a good way to figure out your opponent's next move in a fight and weed out liars, he read years ago that body language speaks louder than words. Things like palms up mean being open, hands together, arms crossed means closed. What does it mean, when he opens his eyes and looks next to him, when she's lying on her back, hands itching to get close to him again?
He knows that's what the gesture means, when she sits up and reaches over for a second. Hand pauses and she uses it to scratch her arm, bed sheets clinging to her breasts.
She opens her mouth but the only word that comes out is his name.
"Yeah," he says, not answering her, not asking. What he says is an agreement to her movements and feelings, which say what he wants to say: this was wrong, what did we do.
Their eyes meet, lit only by the light from the windows and Julia gives him one of those slow, tiny smiles of hers. I don't regret it.
Bleach, LOOOOLOLOL --
Grimmjow looks furtively over his shoulder and adjusts his headphones. If anyone knew what he was doing in the computer room, alone, he wouldn't hear the end of it. In fact, he made expressly sure he'd be alone tonight. No Fraccion, no other Espada, not even Aizen himself would know. Just his secret. He shivers, thinking. It was cold in here, but the trembling came from many sources. Hearing this song again and the fear, the fear that he would be discovered.
"Gee gee gee gee baby ..."
He grins a perverse smile and watches the girls on the screen dance, and imagines, surprisingly, not doing them all one after another, but dancing with them, freeing himself and letting go in the music. His secret passion that can never be realized that even he doesn't understand. It makes no sense. His way is that of destruction and violence. He feels best when blood is under his nails and he's looking down on his beaten opponent. But damn if these bitches aren't cute.
Lost in thought for a second, he closes his eyes and swivels in the chair in time, mouthing the lyrics and doesn't hear the footsteps approaching, the door creaking, or the feeling of another behind him. He thinks of nothing but hip shakes and dare he say it, kawaii lyrics until there is a furtive cough behind him that makes him freeze in horror.
"Hmm," says Ulquiorra, as he looks past a horrified and angry Grimmjow, "your music taste is trash."
Bleach, Nnoitra/Neliel --
The one thing that drove Nnoitra also destroyed him and he didn't stop to think how strange and chaotic that was. One of the forces behind his meaning was also the thing that ate away at him. Her seemingly cold eyes, looks only cast at him. Her power, only exerted over him. Nnoitra thought plenty on that, imagined her face in his mind a dozen times and it was in different ways, writhing under his touch or blood-smeared, depending on how he felt at the moment but the overriding vision was one of her eyes softening, not conceding, but acknowledging. He did not let himself see this much, as it was the expression he'd never extracted from her, by force, by anything.
When the clouds had parted and Neliel had risen again -- that's what she did, she rose from underneath his grasp again -- the look upon her face was determination, anger, everything that had pissed him off about her before and driven him insane about her. What fed him would kill him. That's what it was about Neliel, it was strange passion in every way.
When Nnoitra died, his mind wasn't blissfully blank, wasn't full of rage, wasn't a reaction he could've ever imagined himself having moments before death. He remembered Neliel. She'd long since returned to her old form, but as he fell he caught her eyes again and the look he found there wasn't what he was searching for but it was just as well. A flicker, on the visage of someone who had previously forgotten him, of concern and remembrance and he couldn't even begin to imagine what she thought, if anything, but he could only hope she was mourning for a fellow warrior.
Bleach, gen --
If there was one thing Hirako Shinji prided himself on -- and this was a vanity sort of quality, but what was pride except some part of ego? -- it was his cool. He never said as much as he'd liked on the topic, but cool guys didn't talk about cool. Cool was a state of mind as much as dress and people could scoff, but he knew what it took to have it down. The walk, the attitude, everything. There wasn't one person in this world that had more chill than he possessed and he lived his life by this code. He lived his ultra-hip lifestyle by this belief, that he alone was the supreme mac daddy of the good time and --
"Hey, baldy," said Hiyori, throwing the box of laundry detergent at Shinji, "if you're going to listen to music while you do laundry, at least pick something that doesn't suck."
He glared at her and she sneered back, and instead of grimacing at face and sticking out his tongue, he popped his yellow rubber gloves back on and rolled his eyes. People would never understand.
FINALLY, longer-than-a-drabble Soul Eater fic!
Title: Your Immediate Future
Words: 2240ish
Rating: PG
"I can't offer you proof," said Spirit. He was lying in a manner Stein thought of as "funeral style", on their couch.
His red hair was a rumpled mess underneath him as he crossed his arms against his chest rigidly and his eyes, though closed, look on the verge of tears. They had that funny crinkle and his lip was down-turned. "I can't offer you proof," he repeated. "But I'm taking her word for it."
"You can't panic," said Stein, somewhat disdainfully, "if you're not one hundred percent certain."
"This is preemptive panic," countered Spirit, his eyes snapping open. His fingers dug into his arms and he avoided Stein's gaze, which was relentless and Stein found this unduly amusing and continued to do so, just to make Spirit uncomfortable. "This is the panic before the panic, you know."
"When is the real panic going to set in?" Stein slid onto the arm of the chair and Spirit finally met his gaze, glaring.
"You ask the worst questions."
"If you didn't want me to be curious, you shouldn't have told me. This is something you've done, Senpai. Which I was pretty certain would happen sooner or later," he added as an afterthought. "I'm mainly just curious at your reaction."
"What's wrong with my reaction?" Spirit sat up, tufts of hair akimbo at the back of his head. "This is a perfectly reasonable reaction!" A fist landed on the back of the couch to signify his seriousness, but to Stein it seemed like a child throwing a tantrum. Spirit threw his face into his palms.
"You seem more angry than surprised."
"Of course I'm angry!" Spirit's voice was muffled and Stein sighed.
"Like I said this is something you've done, so who are you angry with?"
"My- I'm angry with h-- dammit, why are you playing psychologist with me?" Lifting his head and blowing his bangs from his face, he muttered, "No psychologists don't play mind games with people."
Even Stein, who lived in his own seemingly self-centered and strange bubble, understood these things. These things being the basic physiology of human beings. Which Spirit apparently didn't at age 16, because his girlfriend (of this fortnight) claimed to be pregnant. Stein only believed this facetiously, Spirit's ignorance. Spirit's first words when he finally got the courage to tell anyone were, in a trembling voice, "I've been so careful." As far as Stein could see, he'd told no one but Stein, believing him to be a safe bet at this point, the point of almost uncertainty. To be honest, Stein really wasn't interested one way or another, but it was fun to confuse Spirit himself.
Who confused very very easily, especially in states like this.
"This will ruin everything!" Spirit cried, thumping the couch again.
"What's everything?"
"My life," said Spirit, being honest with himself for once. "I'm going to take a bath. If I don't come back in an hour, keep waiting."
"What about two hours?"
"I'm probably dead." Spirit frowned, opened his mouth to say something else and then waved his hand. "Don't laugh at me too much behind my back while I'm gone, okay?"
Stein's face was a blank.
*
Three hours later, Stein knocked on the door.
The bathroom light was still on and sound of a small oscillating fan could be heard inside. If he was planning on electrocuting himself with that, he'd waited about an hour past due. Stein knocked again.
"What?" A splashing noise.
"I've made dinner," said Stein. In truth, he'd made himself soup and recipe fed two people. He wasn't sure if Spirit would still be alive at this point, so he didn't plan ahead too much. In truth, he knew Spirit was a coward about that sort of thing. They could bravely become partners, but the thought of Spirit killing himself was so grossly out of character. In any case, Stein stored Spirit's portion in the fridge to eat later if he was dead. More surprising things had happened.
"I don't want any."
"I'm not going to beg you." Stein thought for a moment. "You're still in the tub, right? How is that even comfortable after this long?"
"Go away, you bastard."
It was a simple question, but Stein raised his eyebrows and left anyway.
*
Stein's eyesight was becoming blurred by the light of the small desk lamp. The sun had gone down a bit previously and hunched over his books he wasn't in the market for interrupting himself from studying to turn on the light switch. But his back had begun to hurt and his hand was cramping, so he decided to give himself a break and do so. The rest of Spirit's soup might be tasty at this point too. As soon as his hand had flicked the switch, he heard a low, almost moaning cry.
"Steeeeeeein."
Stein had to pass the bathroom to get to the kitchen or he'd otherwise ignore it. It didn't sound like a pained cry, just an annoyed and needy one.
He opened the door quietly and stuck his head in the hall listening for the call again. Perhaps he could walk quietly --
"Steeeeeeein. Come here."
Spirit probably couldn't hear him over the fan and his own misery ringing in his ears, but he added: "I know you're there, I need you."
Stein shuffled into the hallway and leaned against the bathroom door. "What?"
"I need something to eat."
"I ate your soup." Or was about to, but Spirit didn't need to know that.
"Make me a sandwich then ... please."
Stein opened his mouth to flatly say no, but Spirit said, plainly and almost sadly, "Please, Stein. The door is open. Just a cheese sandwich."
Stein rolled his eyes and walked into the kitchen, not explaining his own actions to himself.
*
"The door is open?"
"Well," said Spirit from inside, "it's not locked."
Stein held the tray against his chest and balanced it with one hand precariously, opening the door with the other.
The sight was interesting. Spirit was sitting in the bathtub of seemingly cold water, in a pair of boxers, books and magazines stacked next to the tub. One of his legs rested on the side and the other on the facet, his hair held back with a tie and a frown on his face, which melted into a smile in the harsh light of the overhead bathroom light when he saw Stein.
"Just ... just leave it on the toilet..." Spirit stared as Stein set down the tray. On it was two cheese sandwiches with mustard and a glass of milk. "You brought me milk?"
"You can't drink bathwater," Stein replied simply. It was true.
"Thanks," said Spirit, with a strange half-smile. A pruny hand snaked out and grabbed a sandwich and as Stein shut the door behind him he could Spirit say, with a mouthful, "Thanks a lot."
*
The next morning was Saturday and Stein's first thoughts upon awaking were simple thoughts, breakfast and then morbid morbid curiosity about what Spirit had done that night. Truthfully, the second thought was needing to use the bathroom badly and he realized Spirit was camping out in the bath in his ridiculous state of depression. Stein would have to see if he'd fallen asleep in the tub. Which could possibly have drowned him. It would be interesting to see how exactly he'd slept in a tub of cold water, but first, important things like breakfast.
Stein rolled his head on his pillow to look at the clock on his nightstand. 9:05 AM. He'd slept in a little later that he'd wished. After bringing Spirit his meal he'd retired back to his room with a warmed-up bowl of Spirit's soup and a book. Sometime around 10:00 PM, Spirit began to sing, almost drunkenly, some song about being depressed and heartache or something stupid. He stopped singing a little while after and Stein had heard nothing further from him. He imagined he might've fallen asleep at this point, Spirit had.
The floor was cold when Stein stood up on it and he stretched, wondering when Spirit was going to be mature and find out something concrete before falling apart as he had. He suspected he'd wallow a bit.
Perhaps it was time to run him out of the bathroom and use it, as it was a bit unfair of Spirit to hog it in his throes of pity.
Stein picked up his empty soup bowl and walked into the dark hall, the only source of sunlight the living room and he knocked on the door of the bathroom. Knocked again. No reply. Stein went to find cereal.
*
After breakfast, washing both of his dishes, Stein was pretty certain he couldn't hold it anymore and he knocked a little hard on the door. "Senpai," he said sternly. "Senpai." He noticed, though, the door wasn't ajar and Stein pushed it open and was presented with an empty bathtub. A bit disgusting, the glass holding the milk empty and floating in the tub with soggy crusts.
Huh, it seemed Spirit had melted. He hadn't heard a door open, so that was his first thought. Fascinating. He'd collect a sample later and put it in the drawer he'd mentally labeled "Senpai", full of notebooks with data on his experiments on Spirit. Interesting and -- But Stein looked down and hadn't noticed this before, but wet footprints, still very fresh led from the tub to the hallway. The only towel that had been left inside was rumpled and thrown on the floor. Stein went inside and used the bathroom -- very very gratefully -- before following the footsteps which had begun to dry.
So he'd made a quiet escape.
The nearer they got to Spirit's room, the fresher and wetter they were until he looked up and there, in the window, in a pair of wet boxers, his tied hair wet and shivering, was Spirit. He was crouched in the open window with his hands on either side to support himself.
"I can't take it Stein!" he said, and closed his eyes dramatically. "I can't take it anymore. I've been going over all the thoughts and bad things all night and ... do you know what this will do? I'm too young! I was so stupid ... I ..."
"So are you going to jump?" Stein leaned against the door frame.
"... Of course I am!" Spirit looked pained at the implication that he wasn't.
"Right now?"
"Yes!" Spirit opened his eyes and knitted his eyebrows. "And that will be the story of me ... Spirit Albarn, aged 16, ruined early on ..."
Stein sighed. "You've got everything to live for," he said, without much conviction, but Spirit stopped shaking his head and looked at Stein, his expression softer.
Stein thought of all the fortune cookie sayings he'd remember. Almost tonelessly, he recited, " 'It doesn't matter. Who is without a flaw?' ' A scholars ink lasts longer than a martyrs blood.' Err ..." He stopped for a moment and realized Spirit was hanging on his every word. " 'A thrilling time is in your immediate future'!" he said excitedly, excited at having successfully remembered another, but Spirit mistook this display of emotion as something entirely different, which Stein didn't mind, because he climbed, somewhat squelchily, out of the window.
"Is everything going to be okay?" Spirit asked, very honestly. He wiped his nose and lowered himself onto the bed. Stein realized he was crying.
"Who knows?" said Stein, but it wasn't said sarcastically. He just stood rigidly in the doorway and frowned. "But you have to get concrete proof before you can fall apart. Then you can."
He was being serious, but Spirit laughed. It was a welcome sound.
*
Spirit had gone out a few minutes after lunch, to rendezvous with what he called "his lady". His face was grim, but determined. Stein wouldn't argue with having to do dishes again if Spirit wouldn't sulk around here anymore. Whatever the outcome, Spirit would perhaps face it differently than falling apart. His determined face had said that plainly and he'd said that plainly himself. "I gotta be a man."
Stein spent the afternoon studying on the couch and around 3, the shadows began to grow longer from the window and his feet felt cold, but the only blanket was in his bedroom. He'd began to get sleepy, sitting there reading right now, but tests were coming up soon and he wondered if Spirit, so wrapped up in his own world had realized. He'd probably cram a few hours before any tests, true to his style. Whatever. Stein set the book on the coffee table amidst many others and walked to the bedroom.
No sooner had he reached the door, than the front door slammed and a triumphant voice cried out, "Stein! STEIN! She got a test done, she got two tests done, it was a false alarm!" Stein soon appeared in the living room, blanket in hand, to see Spirit dancing wildly in the floor. "She's all right! We're all right! Stein, this is amazing, I have my whole life ahead of me."
Stein smiled slightly and before he could open his mouth Spirit danced over and said, "Let's make a steak for dinner! And peas, you love peas! And ... a cake! We're going to bake a cake to celebrate."
Little did Spirit know that Stein's very off-handed prediction, said in times of almost duress, would come true. 'A thrilling time is in your immediate future.'
Spirit had two years.
IDK ?_? Have fun reading. I might like these well enough to pop my "posting fic in public" cherry.