iTunes Flashfic Meme!
I've seen this meme around before, in a ton of places. Dunno where this particular version came from but it's mine now!! *evil grin* Tag if you want to!
Rules:
1. Pick a character, pairing, or fandom you like. - Gundam Wing!
2. Put iTunes or equivalent media player on random.
3. For each song that plays, write something related to the theme you picked inspired by the song. You have only the time frame of the song: no planning beforehand: you start when it starts, and no lingering afterward; once the song is over, you stop writing. (No fair skipping songs either; you have to take what comes by chance!) - Ok...so I suck with the 'flash' part of the 'flashfic'. So...in the interest of getting in some good writing practice I decided to just put the song on repeat till I could finish what I wanted to write. I'll do this again later for the timing. And I didn't skip any songs!!
4. Do 5 of these, then post.
~*~*~
Space Jam
Quad City DJ's
Duo feinted left before darting right, barely managing to duck under his opponent’s outstretched arms. A breathless laugh lingered on his lips as zeroed in on his goal. He straightened. Aimed instinctively. And made his shot.
Swish.
Nothing but net! Duo whooped triumphantly as one of the boys playing on the skins team chased after the rebound, his customary grin infected with a slight smug tilt. Yeah, this is how you play. Sweat trickled through his hair, getting a bit too close to his eyes. He shook his head like a dog, spraying Jase a bit as the scrawny boy gave Duo a friendly clap on the shoulder.
Duo’s gaze followed the ball as it came back into play, but took a moment to stretch an arm up behind his head. One of the taller boys had managed a vicious elbow into the muscle just below the shoulder of his arm, the result of which would be a nasty discolored lump in a few hours. None of that lame civilized crap from the boarding school.
This was a real game. Rough and tumble. Tempers flaring. Endless streams of mockery holding nothing sacred. Boys in ratty sweaty clothing, lean, and hungry for any type of victory, even one that didn't matter. Street toughened girls in small groups, leaning against rusted chain-linked fences, looking unaffected but secretly hoping their chosen boy would be on the winning team.
The game didn't matter to any of them, players and spectators alike. It was all about being alive. Claiming. Straining. Surviving. Being real.
Duo watched as his team lost the ball once again. He waited until the other team attempted a chest pass, then darted smoothly passed for the intercept. This was what he fought OZ for. This run down city basketball court, with its cracked concrete and street wizened kids, could have been any one of a million littered throughout the Earth Sphere and Space. They were all home.
~*~*~
Firefly
A*Teens
Nothing moved this late at night. Nothing that is, except for the small figure darting between the piles of trapeze safety equipment and cheap souvenirs left over from earlier in the day. The child moved like a shadow passed the animal cages, not even the great lion paying any heed.
The circus was camped out in a field this time, with a small forest-y stand of trees maybe a hundred or so yards further out on the north side, standing guard between the performing nomads and the main road. This road was the destination.
It was the farthest the little figure dared to go by herself.
Catherine Bloom, 7-year-old tumbler extraordinaire, soon-to-be high wire act-in-training, and self-proclaimed best act in the third ring, glared fiercely toward where the empty road disappeared at the edge of a hill. She ignored her watering eyes, it was only caused by the chill autumn wind anyway.
“TROOOOOWAAAAAAAA! GET YOU’RE BIG BUTT BACK HERE SOON! It’s your job to clean up after Tiny and Sparky! An’ I’m tired of doing it for you! You’re SUPPOSED to be HERE!
“Sammy fell, today. She broke her arm so she can’t do the tumbling routine with me in the show until she’s better. An’ Rocky says that I can have one of the new birds when they hatch for my birthday. I’m not waiting for you, Stupid! An’ I’m NOT naming it Bailey! Cause Barnum hasta come first and you LEFT!”
The little girl sniffed abruptly and rubbed at her eyes for a moment. She shivered a bit, her jacket not exactly enough to keep out the cool night air.
“I guess that’s all for tonight.” She quickly slid open the jar that she had been holding under her arm for the trek to the road and shook out the little dark thing huddling at the bottom. If fell halfway to the ground before it lit up with a faint buzz, wings catching the air. The tiny firefly hovered over Catherine for a moment then disappeared into the dark a small whisper following it as it went.
“Talk to you tomorrow.”
Now she just had to find another firefly to send to Trowa tomorrow.
~*~*~
Inside
Catherine Tuttle
Trowa had always known that Quatre would make a good businessman. He was raised with the skills to take on the biggest sharks out there and he was born with the compassion to make sure his ventures never cheated the people. Trowa also knew, however, that Quatre hated it.
The blond pilot was a strategist at heart, he loved the challenge of reading the public and following the trends of supply and demand, but he could never reconcile the politics of money with its uses. Real friends were few and far between in the business world.
Therefore, Trowa was not in the least surprised when, years after the wars and people began to realize that maybe this peace would last, the bold headlines splashed across his breakfast newspaper informed him that the Winner scion had abruptly left his post to one of his many sisters and seemed to all but disappear. The surprise came when the 19-year-old opened the door to his trailer with the express purpose of heading to work early and instead found said scion standing on his step, fist raised to knock on the door.
Quatre gave a small sheepish smile.
“I think I just ran away to join the circus.”
~*~*~
Breaking the Habit
Linkin Park
Heero blurred into motion the moment he realized the group of punk kids were serious about making him the recipient of a night of violent mischief. Feet and fists met target after target in a relentless barrage. There were four of them and only one of him but it really was no contest. Heero would eventually beat them back, and after they retreated he would dutifully remind himself that it was stupid to wander about the inner city at this time of night alone. Of course he could take care of himself, but that didn’t mean he should take unnecessary risks.
The fact that Heero knew these dregs of society would find a twenty-something such a tempting target that they would leave alone those much less able to defend themselves was a thought that the former Gundam pilot kept shoved in the back of his mind. Vigilantism was not something he and his fellow pilots fought for.
Tonight’s group was tougher than most, they didn’t immediately run once face-to-face with a victim that fought back. They retaliated with the modicum of skill found in a crew used to brawling together and managed to get in a few blows. Nothing noteworthy and nothing to put Heero on guard for the searing chill that slid easily into his side. He pulled instinctively away from the sensation, grabbed and twisted until the knife was in his own grasp and one of the kids grimaced over his newly broken wrist. The others fell back for a moment to regroup. But only for a moment.
In that same moment, the scent of his own blood hit Heero and the streetlamp light caught on the edge of his blade throwing a red glare into his eyes. Status: Adrenaline levels elevated. Pain, bearable. Threat, present. Unacceptable. He shifted his grip on the knife and with a sharp motion buried it to the hilt into the chest of the assailant in the process of pulling a gun.
Heero would never fully remember the rest of the fight that followed. All he knew was that by the time he calmed down and regained his senses, they were dead and the stab wound, situated directly above a scar from one of his most harrowing training missions, had already started clotting. He would, however, remember this night for the rest of his life: every time Duo would innocently ask if he had changed his mind about joining the Preventers, every time the news would report another senseless urban crime, and every time Heero’s frustration threatened to spill over into property destruction at the fact that the peace he had sacrificed so much for was not really all that peaceful.
~*~*~
Carrickfergus
Orla Fallon
Overall, the years had been kind to Wufei, considering the ungodly number of them and how roughly the first two decades had treated him. But no amount of kindness could stop the inevitable and he was grateful for the chance for a last goodbye before his time was up.
It had taken years and more than a few sacrifices, but Wufei had been able to rebuild some of what was lost in the destruction of L5. Not everyone had been on the colony at the time it was destroyed and afterwards they had mostly scattered in order to prevent further reprisals. Winner, Maxwell and their many contacts had been instrumental in gathering the remaining Changs together.
And now, nearly eighty years later, the clan was still far from their impressive former glory, they might never regain everything back, but Wufei was pleased with their progress and proud of what he’d seen of the next generation. His spirit could rest peacefully now, knowing his family would continue after he was gone.
He could look forward to rejoining his friends
He was the last of them, the last of those who had taken an active role in the wars of so long ago. They said so in the papers. Yuy had been the first to go. Heart failure. He was only in his thirties. It seemed the scientists never meant for him to be more than a weapon. Winner worked till the end. He died in his office and was honestly mourned by many. Barton lasted a quite bit longer than the first two, killing himself only after a stroke took away the mobility in his left side. He was a soldier pure and simple and couldn’t accept his failing body. Wufei had been upset but ultimately understood. No one knew what had happened to Maxwell. After the war he had often taken off without notice for months on end and just as often returning with a new set of bruises and stories that would be harrowing for any other company. One time he just never came back. This was before even Yuy was gone.
And now it was Wufei’s turn.
~*~*~
Concrit is both welcome and wanted! Enjoy!
Rules:
1. Pick a character, pairing, or fandom you like. - Gundam Wing!
2. Put iTunes or equivalent media player on random.
3. For each song that plays, write something related to the theme you picked inspired by the song. You have only the time frame of the song: no planning beforehand: you start when it starts, and no lingering afterward; once the song is over, you stop writing. (No fair skipping songs either; you have to take what comes by chance!) - Ok...so I suck with the 'flash' part of the 'flashfic'. So...in the interest of getting in some good writing practice I decided to just put the song on repeat till I could finish what I wanted to write. I'll do this again later for the timing. And I didn't skip any songs!!
4. Do 5 of these, then post.
~*~*~
Space Jam
Quad City DJ's
Duo feinted left before darting right, barely managing to duck under his opponent’s outstretched arms. A breathless laugh lingered on his lips as zeroed in on his goal. He straightened. Aimed instinctively. And made his shot.
Swish.
Nothing but net! Duo whooped triumphantly as one of the boys playing on the skins team chased after the rebound, his customary grin infected with a slight smug tilt. Yeah, this is how you play. Sweat trickled through his hair, getting a bit too close to his eyes. He shook his head like a dog, spraying Jase a bit as the scrawny boy gave Duo a friendly clap on the shoulder.
Duo’s gaze followed the ball as it came back into play, but took a moment to stretch an arm up behind his head. One of the taller boys had managed a vicious elbow into the muscle just below the shoulder of his arm, the result of which would be a nasty discolored lump in a few hours. None of that lame civilized crap from the boarding school.
This was a real game. Rough and tumble. Tempers flaring. Endless streams of mockery holding nothing sacred. Boys in ratty sweaty clothing, lean, and hungry for any type of victory, even one that didn't matter. Street toughened girls in small groups, leaning against rusted chain-linked fences, looking unaffected but secretly hoping their chosen boy would be on the winning team.
The game didn't matter to any of them, players and spectators alike. It was all about being alive. Claiming. Straining. Surviving. Being real.
Duo watched as his team lost the ball once again. He waited until the other team attempted a chest pass, then darted smoothly passed for the intercept. This was what he fought OZ for. This run down city basketball court, with its cracked concrete and street wizened kids, could have been any one of a million littered throughout the Earth Sphere and Space. They were all home.
~*~*~
Firefly
A*Teens
Nothing moved this late at night. Nothing that is, except for the small figure darting between the piles of trapeze safety equipment and cheap souvenirs left over from earlier in the day. The child moved like a shadow passed the animal cages, not even the great lion paying any heed.
The circus was camped out in a field this time, with a small forest-y stand of trees maybe a hundred or so yards further out on the north side, standing guard between the performing nomads and the main road. This road was the destination.
It was the farthest the little figure dared to go by herself.
Catherine Bloom, 7-year-old tumbler extraordinaire, soon-to-be high wire act-in-training, and self-proclaimed best act in the third ring, glared fiercely toward where the empty road disappeared at the edge of a hill. She ignored her watering eyes, it was only caused by the chill autumn wind anyway.
“TROOOOOWAAAAAAAA! GET YOU’RE BIG BUTT BACK HERE SOON! It’s your job to clean up after Tiny and Sparky! An’ I’m tired of doing it for you! You’re SUPPOSED to be HERE!
“Sammy fell, today. She broke her arm so she can’t do the tumbling routine with me in the show until she’s better. An’ Rocky says that I can have one of the new birds when they hatch for my birthday. I’m not waiting for you, Stupid! An’ I’m NOT naming it Bailey! Cause Barnum hasta come first and you LEFT!”
The little girl sniffed abruptly and rubbed at her eyes for a moment. She shivered a bit, her jacket not exactly enough to keep out the cool night air.
“I guess that’s all for tonight.” She quickly slid open the jar that she had been holding under her arm for the trek to the road and shook out the little dark thing huddling at the bottom. If fell halfway to the ground before it lit up with a faint buzz, wings catching the air. The tiny firefly hovered over Catherine for a moment then disappeared into the dark a small whisper following it as it went.
“Talk to you tomorrow.”
Now she just had to find another firefly to send to Trowa tomorrow.
~*~*~
Inside
Catherine Tuttle
Trowa had always known that Quatre would make a good businessman. He was raised with the skills to take on the biggest sharks out there and he was born with the compassion to make sure his ventures never cheated the people. Trowa also knew, however, that Quatre hated it.
The blond pilot was a strategist at heart, he loved the challenge of reading the public and following the trends of supply and demand, but he could never reconcile the politics of money with its uses. Real friends were few and far between in the business world.
Therefore, Trowa was not in the least surprised when, years after the wars and people began to realize that maybe this peace would last, the bold headlines splashed across his breakfast newspaper informed him that the Winner scion had abruptly left his post to one of his many sisters and seemed to all but disappear. The surprise came when the 19-year-old opened the door to his trailer with the express purpose of heading to work early and instead found said scion standing on his step, fist raised to knock on the door.
Quatre gave a small sheepish smile.
“I think I just ran away to join the circus.”
~*~*~
Breaking the Habit
Linkin Park
Heero blurred into motion the moment he realized the group of punk kids were serious about making him the recipient of a night of violent mischief. Feet and fists met target after target in a relentless barrage. There were four of them and only one of him but it really was no contest. Heero would eventually beat them back, and after they retreated he would dutifully remind himself that it was stupid to wander about the inner city at this time of night alone. Of course he could take care of himself, but that didn’t mean he should take unnecessary risks.
The fact that Heero knew these dregs of society would find a twenty-something such a tempting target that they would leave alone those much less able to defend themselves was a thought that the former Gundam pilot kept shoved in the back of his mind. Vigilantism was not something he and his fellow pilots fought for.
Tonight’s group was tougher than most, they didn’t immediately run once face-to-face with a victim that fought back. They retaliated with the modicum of skill found in a crew used to brawling together and managed to get in a few blows. Nothing noteworthy and nothing to put Heero on guard for the searing chill that slid easily into his side. He pulled instinctively away from the sensation, grabbed and twisted until the knife was in his own grasp and one of the kids grimaced over his newly broken wrist. The others fell back for a moment to regroup. But only for a moment.
In that same moment, the scent of his own blood hit Heero and the streetlamp light caught on the edge of his blade throwing a red glare into his eyes. Status: Adrenaline levels elevated. Pain, bearable. Threat, present. Unacceptable. He shifted his grip on the knife and with a sharp motion buried it to the hilt into the chest of the assailant in the process of pulling a gun.
Heero would never fully remember the rest of the fight that followed. All he knew was that by the time he calmed down and regained his senses, they were dead and the stab wound, situated directly above a scar from one of his most harrowing training missions, had already started clotting. He would, however, remember this night for the rest of his life: every time Duo would innocently ask if he had changed his mind about joining the Preventers, every time the news would report another senseless urban crime, and every time Heero’s frustration threatened to spill over into property destruction at the fact that the peace he had sacrificed so much for was not really all that peaceful.
~*~*~
Carrickfergus
Orla Fallon
Overall, the years had been kind to Wufei, considering the ungodly number of them and how roughly the first two decades had treated him. But no amount of kindness could stop the inevitable and he was grateful for the chance for a last goodbye before his time was up.
It had taken years and more than a few sacrifices, but Wufei had been able to rebuild some of what was lost in the destruction of L5. Not everyone had been on the colony at the time it was destroyed and afterwards they had mostly scattered in order to prevent further reprisals. Winner, Maxwell and their many contacts had been instrumental in gathering the remaining Changs together.
And now, nearly eighty years later, the clan was still far from their impressive former glory, they might never regain everything back, but Wufei was pleased with their progress and proud of what he’d seen of the next generation. His spirit could rest peacefully now, knowing his family would continue after he was gone.
He could look forward to rejoining his friends
He was the last of them, the last of those who had taken an active role in the wars of so long ago. They said so in the papers. Yuy had been the first to go. Heart failure. He was only in his thirties. It seemed the scientists never meant for him to be more than a weapon. Winner worked till the end. He died in his office and was honestly mourned by many. Barton lasted a quite bit longer than the first two, killing himself only after a stroke took away the mobility in his left side. He was a soldier pure and simple and couldn’t accept his failing body. Wufei had been upset but ultimately understood. No one knew what had happened to Maxwell. After the war he had often taken off without notice for months on end and just as often returning with a new set of bruises and stories that would be harrowing for any other company. One time he just never came back. This was before even Yuy was gone.
And now it was Wufei’s turn.
~*~*~
Concrit is both welcome and wanted! Enjoy!