You look so fine I want to break your heart
Utter failure on my part yesterday! Happy 3 year (+1) anniversary to isthatjamie and threnodaemis!!
Also, reposting the little bits and pieces from the fic meme I did a week ago~! Also have tweaked little bits here and there~! ♥
for Sacchifox, The Secret Garden, Final Waltz
Summary:three part story regarding the symbolism of flowers and femininity as well as slightly metaphysical;
first part: Deionaera (brief Dei/Sallas) roughly titled They called me the hyacinth girl
second part: Iris and Lily (mentions of Judas/Lily) roughly titled i lie in repose and plot the agony of resurrection (which will probably be changed)
third part: Seline and Jack (Jack/Seline, Seline/Julian, Jack/Iris) titled always be standing here holding dandelions for you.
It's not something she lets people know. Gods know the few people that she actually lets in through the cracks in her armour --and it seems the cracks widen year by year not that time matters or has ever mattered except as a way of reminding her of how fucked her life is, how the people she loves tend to die and she is so old now-- they always seem so surprised to find it out but it isn't that surprising. She loves the entire process; the planting of the seeds, the waiting and the anticipation, the first blossom, the back-breaking honest sweat of tending her plants...It allows her to leave something behind of herself - like a legacy, only instead of bloodlines and bloodshed, she spells herself out in honeysuckle and hibiscus, pansies and daisies and hyacinths.
She rocks back on her heels, brushing the back of her soiled hands over her forehead in a vain attempt to keep her currently light pink and apple green hair out of her face and hums contentedly. Nearby she knows Tiel and Blu are watching her bemusedly, not entirely understanding why she dedicates time to such a small thing except it's not small to her. Somedays, when she's on a world she's been before for an extended period of time, she tries to retrace old paths and when she inevitably finds the patch of flowers (for her memory never fails her and she's both cursed and praised that gift throughout her existence), it never fails to force a breathless, joyful laugh out of her chest because she's still here, it proves she's real and that some things do stand the test of time.
for togeira, Unorthodox Methods, Good Omens
Summary:Adam-centric, mentions of Adam/Pepper, Pollution/Famine, Anathema/Newt and, of course, Aziraphale/Crowley.
An Adam-tries-to-right-problems-with-his-Powers story where everything goes wrong. In attempts to stop The Horsemen, he upsets the balance of the world, Anathema realises there's a prophecy about that whilst Newt is put up and Aziraphale and Crowley argue about the best way to stop him without actually hurting their adopted son charge before Pepper has a few choice words with Adam, bit of a slap and the world returns to normal.
It wasn't that being the Son of the Devil wasn't cool or anything because it was -- (Adam being at that stage of adolescence where the best way to manage their rage and lust and boiling emotions is to don eyeliner, wear tight black clothing and listen to screaming, pained rock bands) -- it was...well. He just saw so much wrong with the world (every night new reports of violence and people making big speeches but doing nothing and the irritation of the world being locked in a pattern, pinned to a wheel that never broke) and felt so impassioned to do something about it, which he was able to, being, y'know, son of The First Enemy and all that malarky. The problem Adam was having that it seemed so...undemonic of him to want to save people.
That is, until Wesleydale point out that rebellion against Father's sort of ran in his bloodline.
It was, with that exact thought in his mind (squashed between the chorus line to 'thnks fr th mmrs' and some indeciperable thoughts that began at the latest pair of socks that vanished in the tumble dryer and were now currently at the best way to defeat man-eating trees), that Adam Young took himself to head to London to consult those odd men (that he suspected of being a couple but never asked because that was just rude, and his mum had taught him with a few choice smacks around the head about where rudeness got you, especially regarding women and age but in most topics) that seemed to have shadowed him since his youth.
for beautiful waxrose, A Hard Day's Night, Arashi
Summary: Pairing is so obviously Arashi/Arashi >D
The story would go something like this: Set over the course of a single night, after rehersals and the first day the band have off in, like, months. A day of complete and utter relaxation, right...? Not so much.
Nino swore under his breath for at least the 27th time in the last hour (impressive considering it was only 7:04) and snorted out of his nose in the most unimpressive i am so beyond amused with this air he could muster; the one he usually reserved for photographers trying to get him to pose for the nth hour in a row in a pleated net skirt, sashimi chefs who sneak wasabi in his unagi and Chinen-kun. A few of the staff cast worried glances at that tell-tale noise, especially when coupled with the fact Aiba blantantly is no longer paying attention to learning the new routine and has become engrossed in playing with Jun's new curls (and, subsequently, wrapping himself around Jun in a manner resembling a deranged koala), that the bags under Leader's eyes are causing him to have more than a passing resemblance to a panda who's received an electric shock. Even Sho - quiet, patient, steadfast Sho - sends occasional pleading looks to the female staff-san who normally help them finish a touch earlier than usual. However the director calls for them to try it again with more 'bounciness' and 'Arashi spirit'. There seems to be no end to Nino's torture.
It is just as Nino thinks this and begins compiling a mental list of new and original places he's going to stick wasabi when he finds out who scheduled them to learn an entire new routine on their LAST DAY BEFORE A THREE DAY BREAK that one of the staff moves beyond the iron link fence of interchangable staff members and announces the end of the day, thanking them for their hard work and telling them to have a good weekend, meeting back at the studio at 6:30 Tuesday. Nino doesn't even hear half of it as he's breaking land speed records to reach the showers, pratically cheering and finally, finally getting to wash the stupid fucking glitter Aiba plastered on his face for rehersals off.
for World Ruler Extraordinaire trowicia, the one who took you to your sundrenched world, Gundam Wing
Summary: Sometimes the sun shines so brightly you can't see the cracks appearing around you and that's the way you like it now - drenched in sunlight and blinded. Because this is the world you helped make.
Somedays, you feel like you've never seen the sky before. And you know, you realise how strange it must seem to your fellow Preventers when you leave work on a summer afternoon (for summer holidays are for people who had ordinary lives and work ordinary, number-crunching jobs and don't know what exactly the people on both sides of the war went through) to just...stop, tilt your head back and breathe deeply as if you're trying to drown yourself in the scent of summer; ice-cream and not unpleasantly of sweat and outdoor cooking and beer and exhaust pipes and perfume. You don't care, you've never really cared for what people thought of you, just enjoy these moments of peace and the sun beating down on your face, feeling the stress of the day draining out of your aching neck, slipping over the curve of your spine and dripping down your calves.
It's these little moments at the end of every day that make you remember what it was all for - days of killing and wars of conscience and internal battlefields that were just as bloody and messy as any physical ones. And you get irritated, like a thousand tiny insects buzzing in the back of your head, when you leave work too late for the sunlight and spent the rest of the night in unpleasant form all the way through to the next morning. At least until you get your first cup of caffeine and then things are restored in the world, the buzzing dulls and you refocus on documents and missions and protection rather than destruction.
Also, reposting the little bits and pieces from the fic meme I did a week ago~! Also have tweaked little bits here and there~! ♥
for Sacchifox, The Secret Garden, Final Waltz
Summary:three part story regarding the symbolism of flowers and femininity as well as slightly metaphysical;
first part: Deionaera (brief Dei/Sallas) roughly titled They called me the hyacinth girl
second part: Iris and Lily (mentions of Judas/Lily) roughly titled i lie in repose and plot the agony of resurrection (which will probably be changed)
third part: Seline and Jack (Jack/Seline, Seline/Julian, Jack/Iris) titled always be standing here holding dandelions for you.
It's not something she lets people know. Gods know the few people that she actually lets in through the cracks in her armour --and it seems the cracks widen year by year not that time matters or has ever mattered except as a way of reminding her of how fucked her life is, how the people she loves tend to die and she is so old now-- they always seem so surprised to find it out but it isn't that surprising. She loves the entire process; the planting of the seeds, the waiting and the anticipation, the first blossom, the back-breaking honest sweat of tending her plants...It allows her to leave something behind of herself - like a legacy, only instead of bloodlines and bloodshed, she spells herself out in honeysuckle and hibiscus, pansies and daisies and hyacinths.
She rocks back on her heels, brushing the back of her soiled hands over her forehead in a vain attempt to keep her currently light pink and apple green hair out of her face and hums contentedly. Nearby she knows Tiel and Blu are watching her bemusedly, not entirely understanding why she dedicates time to such a small thing except it's not small to her. Somedays, when she's on a world she's been before for an extended period of time, she tries to retrace old paths and when she inevitably finds the patch of flowers (for her memory never fails her and she's both cursed and praised that gift throughout her existence), it never fails to force a breathless, joyful laugh out of her chest because she's still here, it proves she's real and that some things do stand the test of time.
for togeira, Unorthodox Methods, Good Omens
Summary:Adam-centric, mentions of Adam/Pepper, Pollution/Famine, Anathema/Newt and, of course, Aziraphale/Crowley.
An Adam-tries-to-right-problems-with-his-Powers story where everything goes wrong. In attempts to stop The Horsemen, he upsets the balance of the world, Anathema realises there's a prophecy about that whilst Newt is put up and Aziraphale and Crowley argue about the best way to stop him without actually hurting their adopted son charge before Pepper has a few choice words with Adam, bit of a slap and the world returns to normal.
It wasn't that being the Son of the Devil wasn't cool or anything because it was -- (Adam being at that stage of adolescence where the best way to manage their rage and lust and boiling emotions is to don eyeliner, wear tight black clothing and listen to screaming, pained rock bands) -- it was...well. He just saw so much wrong with the world (every night new reports of violence and people making big speeches but doing nothing and the irritation of the world being locked in a pattern, pinned to a wheel that never broke) and felt so impassioned to do something about it, which he was able to, being, y'know, son of The First Enemy and all that malarky. The problem Adam was having that it seemed so...undemonic of him to want to save people.
That is, until Wesleydale point out that rebellion against Father's sort of ran in his bloodline.
It was, with that exact thought in his mind (squashed between the chorus line to 'thnks fr th mmrs' and some indeciperable thoughts that began at the latest pair of socks that vanished in the tumble dryer and were now currently at the best way to defeat man-eating trees), that Adam Young took himself to head to London to consult those odd men (that he suspected of being a couple but never asked because that was just rude, and his mum had taught him with a few choice smacks around the head about where rudeness got you, especially regarding women and age but in most topics) that seemed to have shadowed him since his youth.
for beautiful waxrose, A Hard Day's Night, Arashi
Summary: Pairing is so obviously Arashi/Arashi >D
The story would go something like this: Set over the course of a single night, after rehersals and the first day the band have off in, like, months. A day of complete and utter relaxation, right...? Not so much.
Nino swore under his breath for at least the 27th time in the last hour (impressive considering it was only 7:04) and snorted out of his nose in the most unimpressive i am so beyond amused with this air he could muster; the one he usually reserved for photographers trying to get him to pose for the nth hour in a row in a pleated net skirt, sashimi chefs who sneak wasabi in his unagi and Chinen-kun. A few of the staff cast worried glances at that tell-tale noise, especially when coupled with the fact Aiba blantantly is no longer paying attention to learning the new routine and has become engrossed in playing with Jun's new curls (and, subsequently, wrapping himself around Jun in a manner resembling a deranged koala), that the bags under Leader's eyes are causing him to have more than a passing resemblance to a panda who's received an electric shock. Even Sho - quiet, patient, steadfast Sho - sends occasional pleading looks to the female staff-san who normally help them finish a touch earlier than usual. However the director calls for them to try it again with more 'bounciness' and 'Arashi spirit'. There seems to be no end to Nino's torture.
It is just as Nino thinks this and begins compiling a mental list of new and original places he's going to stick wasabi when he finds out who scheduled them to learn an entire new routine on their LAST DAY BEFORE A THREE DAY BREAK that one of the staff moves beyond the iron link fence of interchangable staff members and announces the end of the day, thanking them for their hard work and telling them to have a good weekend, meeting back at the studio at 6:30 Tuesday. Nino doesn't even hear half of it as he's breaking land speed records to reach the showers, pratically cheering and finally, finally getting to wash the stupid fucking glitter Aiba plastered on his face for rehersals off.
for World Ruler Extraordinaire trowicia, the one who took you to your sundrenched world, Gundam Wing
Summary: Sometimes the sun shines so brightly you can't see the cracks appearing around you and that's the way you like it now - drenched in sunlight and blinded. Because this is the world you helped make.
Somedays, you feel like you've never seen the sky before. And you know, you realise how strange it must seem to your fellow Preventers when you leave work on a summer afternoon (for summer holidays are for people who had ordinary lives and work ordinary, number-crunching jobs and don't know what exactly the people on both sides of the war went through) to just...stop, tilt your head back and breathe deeply as if you're trying to drown yourself in the scent of summer; ice-cream and not unpleasantly of sweat and outdoor cooking and beer and exhaust pipes and perfume. You don't care, you've never really cared for what people thought of you, just enjoy these moments of peace and the sun beating down on your face, feeling the stress of the day draining out of your aching neck, slipping over the curve of your spine and dripping down your calves.
It's these little moments at the end of every day that make you remember what it was all for - days of killing and wars of conscience and internal battlefields that were just as bloody and messy as any physical ones. And you get irritated, like a thousand tiny insects buzzing in the back of your head, when you leave work too late for the sunlight and spent the rest of the night in unpleasant form all the way through to the next morning. At least until you get your first cup of caffeine and then things are restored in the world, the buzzing dulls and you refocus on documents and missions and protection rather than destruction.