When love letters read like obituaries
Been awhile, and this site obviously needs some love!~
Kira and Cagalli's birthday was May 18th! It may be late but try to submit something in to show that you still love the twins!
Here's a story I submitted over at fanfiction.net, enjoyyy <33
Title: When love letters read like obituaries.
Pairing(s): Kira/Cagalli; other pairings implied, ugh.
Genre: Romance/Angst/General
Rating: T
Spoilers:-shrugs-
Summary: The notes of the scandal unfolded was just the beginning, Happy Birthday to you too, my dear.
Author's Notes: This is an AU fanfic, a dedication to their Birthday; I know it’s late by a day, supposed to be May 18th! Hurrahhhh, I fail XD. Read through this fast, don’t spend too much time thinking on a certain saying, it’s sort of like a Stream of consciousness. Sorry for not updating anything - major writer’s block. I should place an update on Kidnapping the Bride, and other works… soon, when summer rolls around and work isn’t so, stressful.
Disclaimer: I don’t own, I think by now we should all know that
It started with a simple note to meet up. One sentence, one saying, one moment in time to discuss politics. Leader of the nation, her right hand man, who would have thought that it would have lead to this? A brush of skin against skin, radiating warmth, the sunlight pushing forth through the atmosphere as clouds earnestly tried to stop it from happening. Colliding, disarming, the beginning of the end, the end to the misery and loneliness, for them; in their spiraling circle of confusion and misplaced facts, void of understanding, kaleidoscope of emotions, take my hand and I’ll guide you into the darkness, he says. No, I don’t want to trust you, she feels, No, I don’t want to lose myself to you and this feeling in the pit of my stomach, in the base of my throat, in the pumping of my heart, she knows,
And takes his hand she did.
Another note, perfectly folded to rest neatly between the pillows, unraveled it says, meet me once again and she breathes, heavily, after almost lost for air, she trembles a little panic, sweaty, she folds it again, stuffs it, hides it, ignores it.
And her feet take her there.
Ripped clothes, new clothes, shopping for the public’s eye, weeks upon weeks, day after day, now that she has a break she doesn’t know what to do with herself. Gone he is from her mind’s eye, gone that he is from her peripheral vision. Gone from her touch, her smell, her lips, her caress, her body in yearning, she takes what she gets, blue with green eyes, eager for just that little bit of attention, deflated and unsatisfied, she’s up and she’s gone, and he’s frowning and he’s breaking, he knows she knows, he knows and she doesn’t care, this whole nation is crumbling despite it’s unblemished appearance, aesthetically pleasing, oh so very charming, dip your hat, curtsy your shirt, wink at the guy at the far off corner with the lady on his arm, kiss some cheeks, sign some papers, no war will come to us again,
Oh look, there it is again.
Comes back, he does, this time in a suit and helmet, kisses that pretty pink hair girl on the cheek, she gives him love with her eyes, gives him strength with her voice,
And she could very well just kill the-
…If it wouldn’t cause death to her nation.
Encouragement, she gives, through the speakers and the videos and the transmission to his cockpit, he frowns at the fire and worry in her eyes, frowns at the hurt in her eyes, he turns it off and goes it alone, unlike him yet so very like him,
He dies with his heart in her hands.
--Only, not so literally.--
Congratulations, you win another battle, it was much shorter this time, fewer casualties, you still have him, your brother, your lover, your friend, and your warrior, but is he still really there? There’s a crumpled letter just to the side of your bedroom door, it’s creased and stained with tears and it reads so simply despite the smudge, your words too, were written there to be seen.
I’m sorry
And felt.
Is all that’s not scratched out, and for all the words that could have been said, that’s really all that can be said, and all that can be meant. Broken bonds and broken dreams, shattered glass from mirrors it seems, it’s all just a philosophical way to perceive things, she believes, it’s all just an illusion filled escape from the realms of reality, phantasmal expressions void of any certainty. She knows it’s just a lovely phantasm, a deception of sorrow, blood streak tears and cries that are oh so very, very silent not even the bat could hear. Why do the shadows betray what they want to deceive? How can they see themselves crashing into one and not believe?
Oh, they were very sorry indeed.
The cake is big and the attendance is large, the music is booming and the crowd is chatting, lightly of course, because for the leader it’s fancy and formal and all things with an ‘f’, and don’t worry babe, the alcohol is out back, the real party is later, and we are going to break some hearts tonight.
Another note, under her tote, pick it up, read it fast, a true love letter like the worst of the worst and somehow there’s a shadow around it tempting death she chooses to ignore; words like forever together despite being separated, words like no one can pull us away from one another, we are each other’s half. Word’s like, if you fall, I fall, so let’s fall under the stars into each other, explode into one another and become a shooting star elicit a fading smile into the dim of complacent behavior, meet on the balcony, for there is always a balcony, a quickie and a sharp intake of breath, running hands through hair, scratches on the back, is this lust or love? Or maybe, lust of love?
The latter because of his eyes.
Confrontation she was good at, in your face, yelling, kicking and screaming, the old Cagalli never goes far, professionalism be damned when you make a remark about her taste, be it as it may, who cares if it’s wrong.
She could change it if she wanted to; change it right now if she had the initiative.
Angry hands grip on hard and she yells into the abyss of the night with its sparkling stars and the sparkling cider and the sparkling eyes of shock and disapproval. Too much to drink, she groans the next morning, whatever happened to the cheer for the twins of “Happy Birthday?”
Oh, that’s right; they were caught in the red.
Rush to the phone, dead on the other side, rush through the rooms, anything to wear, anything to go, and go she does, into the hall, into the fortress, no answers, just silence, he’s gone, she knows, he’s gone forever, she knows, one last bash for the birthday twins, they cheered, one last go for the girl of 21, wake up now darling, you’re an adult that’s losing everything.
And it’s just the beginning, Kira. So come back to me, okay?
Happy Birthday to you too, my dear.
Record time: 20 minutes.
I guess I kind of had to; they are my favorite, after all.
Location of fic: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/4266084/1/When_love_letters_read_like_obituaries
have fun loves!~
Kira and Cagalli's birthday was May 18th! It may be late but try to submit something in to show that you still love the twins!
Here's a story I submitted over at fanfiction.net, enjoyyy <33
Title: When love letters read like obituaries.
Pairing(s): Kira/Cagalli; other pairings implied, ugh.
Genre: Romance/Angst/General
Rating: T
Spoilers:-shrugs-
Summary: The notes of the scandal unfolded was just the beginning, Happy Birthday to you too, my dear.
Author's Notes: This is an AU fanfic, a dedication to their Birthday; I know it’s late by a day, supposed to be May 18th! Hurrahhhh, I fail XD. Read through this fast, don’t spend too much time thinking on a certain saying, it’s sort of like a Stream of consciousness. Sorry for not updating anything - major writer’s block. I should place an update on Kidnapping the Bride, and other works… soon, when summer rolls around and work isn’t so, stressful.
Disclaimer: I don’t own, I think by now we should all know that
It started with a simple note to meet up. One sentence, one saying, one moment in time to discuss politics. Leader of the nation, her right hand man, who would have thought that it would have lead to this? A brush of skin against skin, radiating warmth, the sunlight pushing forth through the atmosphere as clouds earnestly tried to stop it from happening. Colliding, disarming, the beginning of the end, the end to the misery and loneliness, for them; in their spiraling circle of confusion and misplaced facts, void of understanding, kaleidoscope of emotions, take my hand and I’ll guide you into the darkness, he says. No, I don’t want to trust you, she feels, No, I don’t want to lose myself to you and this feeling in the pit of my stomach, in the base of my throat, in the pumping of my heart, she knows,
And takes his hand she did.
Another note, perfectly folded to rest neatly between the pillows, unraveled it says, meet me once again and she breathes, heavily, after almost lost for air, she trembles a little panic, sweaty, she folds it again, stuffs it, hides it, ignores it.
And her feet take her there.
Ripped clothes, new clothes, shopping for the public’s eye, weeks upon weeks, day after day, now that she has a break she doesn’t know what to do with herself. Gone he is from her mind’s eye, gone that he is from her peripheral vision. Gone from her touch, her smell, her lips, her caress, her body in yearning, she takes what she gets, blue with green eyes, eager for just that little bit of attention, deflated and unsatisfied, she’s up and she’s gone, and he’s frowning and he’s breaking, he knows she knows, he knows and she doesn’t care, this whole nation is crumbling despite it’s unblemished appearance, aesthetically pleasing, oh so very charming, dip your hat, curtsy your shirt, wink at the guy at the far off corner with the lady on his arm, kiss some cheeks, sign some papers, no war will come to us again,
Oh look, there it is again.
Comes back, he does, this time in a suit and helmet, kisses that pretty pink hair girl on the cheek, she gives him love with her eyes, gives him strength with her voice,
And she could very well just kill the-
…If it wouldn’t cause death to her nation.
Encouragement, she gives, through the speakers and the videos and the transmission to his cockpit, he frowns at the fire and worry in her eyes, frowns at the hurt in her eyes, he turns it off and goes it alone, unlike him yet so very like him,
He dies with his heart in her hands.
--Only, not so literally.--
Congratulations, you win another battle, it was much shorter this time, fewer casualties, you still have him, your brother, your lover, your friend, and your warrior, but is he still really there? There’s a crumpled letter just to the side of your bedroom door, it’s creased and stained with tears and it reads so simply despite the smudge, your words too, were written there to be seen.
I’m sorry
And felt.
Is all that’s not scratched out, and for all the words that could have been said, that’s really all that can be said, and all that can be meant. Broken bonds and broken dreams, shattered glass from mirrors it seems, it’s all just a philosophical way to perceive things, she believes, it’s all just an illusion filled escape from the realms of reality, phantasmal expressions void of any certainty. She knows it’s just a lovely phantasm, a deception of sorrow, blood streak tears and cries that are oh so very, very silent not even the bat could hear. Why do the shadows betray what they want to deceive? How can they see themselves crashing into one and not believe?
Oh, they were very sorry indeed.
The cake is big and the attendance is large, the music is booming and the crowd is chatting, lightly of course, because for the leader it’s fancy and formal and all things with an ‘f’, and don’t worry babe, the alcohol is out back, the real party is later, and we are going to break some hearts tonight.
Another note, under her tote, pick it up, read it fast, a true love letter like the worst of the worst and somehow there’s a shadow around it tempting death she chooses to ignore; words like forever together despite being separated, words like no one can pull us away from one another, we are each other’s half. Word’s like, if you fall, I fall, so let’s fall under the stars into each other, explode into one another and become a shooting star elicit a fading smile into the dim of complacent behavior, meet on the balcony, for there is always a balcony, a quickie and a sharp intake of breath, running hands through hair, scratches on the back, is this lust or love? Or maybe, lust of love?
The latter because of his eyes.
Confrontation she was good at, in your face, yelling, kicking and screaming, the old Cagalli never goes far, professionalism be damned when you make a remark about her taste, be it as it may, who cares if it’s wrong.
She could change it if she wanted to; change it right now if she had the initiative.
Angry hands grip on hard and she yells into the abyss of the night with its sparkling stars and the sparkling cider and the sparkling eyes of shock and disapproval. Too much to drink, she groans the next morning, whatever happened to the cheer for the twins of “Happy Birthday?”
Oh, that’s right; they were caught in the red.
Rush to the phone, dead on the other side, rush through the rooms, anything to wear, anything to go, and go she does, into the hall, into the fortress, no answers, just silence, he’s gone, she knows, he’s gone forever, she knows, one last bash for the birthday twins, they cheered, one last go for the girl of 21, wake up now darling, you’re an adult that’s losing everything.
And it’s just the beginning, Kira. So come back to me, okay?
Happy Birthday to you too, my dear.
Record time: 20 minutes.
I guess I kind of had to; they are my favorite, after all.
Location of fic: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/4266084/1/When_love_letters_read_like_obituaries
have fun loves!~