Holy Badfics, Batman!
Some drabbles I owed people. I think we're square now! I haven't written drabbles in awhile, so they start off a little rocky, but I think they're okay otherwise. :>
I might start f-locking this stuff just because aaaah fanfiction why am I even writing thissss, but we'll see.
Oh oh oh and I finished Final Fantasy XIII recently (shut up I've been busy), and I need to shriek about it soon.
Title: Maybe Tomorrow
Series: Tales of the Abyss
Characters/Pairings: Luke+Guy
Rating: G
Warnings: Implicit spoilers for Guy's backstory and Luke in general.
Summary: Guy+Luke tiems. For vincibility as a most spendiferous drabble trade.
He didn't know when it was that he had stopped feeling so angry.
Guy could remember the sorrow and the anguish, the emptiness that followed; he could remember the gratitude he felt for having a plan; the eagerness to follow through on it. He could remember the twisted angry knot of feelings he'd felt when he saw Duke Fabre's face for the first time and had to bow and call him 'Master'.
Somewhere along the way, though, he'd lost the feelings of malice he had toward the boy. Luke had never been a particularly remarkable child, not when Guy first arrived at the manor, and not after his kidnapping, either.
Caring for an infant in the body of a small body had been tiresome, too. But now years had passed. The baby in the body of a child had grown to be an immature brat in the form of a child instead, and Guy wondered if he was at least partly responsible somehow.
But still, as he tucked that brat into bed, after a long day of what could almost be called friendship, he could begin to imagine that the feelings he had now were just the same as Mary's all those years ago. Mary, who would have done anything for him.
Anything at all.
Was he betraying her memory to care honestly for this pathetic boy, who didn't rightly deserve to be the son of that monster? He couldn't bring himself to regret any of this, though.
"Goodnight, Master Luke," he said quietly, and the door closed with a gentle thud.
Title: Can't Think of Non-Spoilery Title
Series: Tales of the Abyss
Characters/Pairings: Ion
Rating: G
Warnings: If you don't know Ion and Sync's backstories, don't read! Spoilers, and scary mofo time!
Summary: For seta_suzume, though I should have done it forever ago. I'm sorry!;;
"Fon Master," comes Van's voice from the left, quiet and measured, "I need to speak with you."
Ion politely sips his tea under the pretense of not having heard. He has had a bad morning, and he's not in the mood to chat, not even with Van.
"--regarding your request," Van adds. He is especially straight-faced today, which is nice because Ion has been showered with altogether too much pity lately, and it is beginning to irritate him.
"I see," says Ion. Arietta is gone today; she's undergoing training she believes is for her betterment, when in fact, it's meant to keep her out of the way. "I'll be there shortly. Dist has failed again, I gather."
"No." The answer surprises him. How many replicas have they gone through now? Six? Seven? Though he would never say so, he hopes no further replica data is needed from him. His condition has been deteriorating quickly in recent days, and he doesn't want to expire before they've succeeded.
The teacup finds its saucer with a soft clink.
"Take me there now."
===
Dist seems pleased to see him, doubtlessly because he's proud of his work and is in a mood to brag to whoever will listen. "I hope you find the results to your liking," he says airily. His smile borders pleasant insanity.
Ion ignores him because he's entirely engrossed in his mirror reflection, rendered in flesh and standing only feet from him. It's terrifying and enthralling to see a replica this functional. There have been others--he destroyed a few himself and left the rest up to Van, but they had been more like dolls than real people anyway.
He closes the gap between them, moving right up to his carbon-copy, identical down to the last ridiculous detail. He studies the face, so much like his own, and yet not his. Those eyes don't have any hate in them. There is no false smile.
Ion lets a smile creep over his own lips as he watches the replica's eyes study him, too. He reaches up with one cool hand, running fingertips down the fake Ion's cheek without a word.
He knows Van and Dist are watching hopefully. It's his approval that will decide whether this replica is sufficient.
"What do you think?" Van asks. "This is the seventh replica. Its parameters are the ones closest to your own."
The Fon Master's face doesn't falter at all, still smiling, still unreadable. "It's absolutely perfect."
I might start f-locking this stuff just because aaaah fanfiction why am I even writing thissss, but we'll see.
Oh oh oh and I finished Final Fantasy XIII recently (shut up I've been busy), and I need to shriek about it soon.
Title: Maybe Tomorrow
Series: Tales of the Abyss
Characters/Pairings: Luke+Guy
Rating: G
Warnings: Implicit spoilers for Guy's backstory and Luke in general.
Summary: Guy+Luke tiems. For vincibility as a most spendiferous drabble trade.
He didn't know when it was that he had stopped feeling so angry.
Guy could remember the sorrow and the anguish, the emptiness that followed; he could remember the gratitude he felt for having a plan; the eagerness to follow through on it. He could remember the twisted angry knot of feelings he'd felt when he saw Duke Fabre's face for the first time and had to bow and call him 'Master'.
Somewhere along the way, though, he'd lost the feelings of malice he had toward the boy. Luke had never been a particularly remarkable child, not when Guy first arrived at the manor, and not after his kidnapping, either.
Caring for an infant in the body of a small body had been tiresome, too. But now years had passed. The baby in the body of a child had grown to be an immature brat in the form of a child instead, and Guy wondered if he was at least partly responsible somehow.
But still, as he tucked that brat into bed, after a long day of what could almost be called friendship, he could begin to imagine that the feelings he had now were just the same as Mary's all those years ago. Mary, who would have done anything for him.
Anything at all.
Was he betraying her memory to care honestly for this pathetic boy, who didn't rightly deserve to be the son of that monster? He couldn't bring himself to regret any of this, though.
"Goodnight, Master Luke," he said quietly, and the door closed with a gentle thud.
Title: Can't Think of Non-Spoilery Title
Series: Tales of the Abyss
Characters/Pairings: Ion
Rating: G
Warnings: If you don't know Ion and Sync's backstories, don't read! Spoilers, and scary mofo time!
Summary: For seta_suzume, though I should have done it forever ago. I'm sorry!;;
"Fon Master," comes Van's voice from the left, quiet and measured, "I need to speak with you."
Ion politely sips his tea under the pretense of not having heard. He has had a bad morning, and he's not in the mood to chat, not even with Van.
"--regarding your request," Van adds. He is especially straight-faced today, which is nice because Ion has been showered with altogether too much pity lately, and it is beginning to irritate him.
"I see," says Ion. Arietta is gone today; she's undergoing training she believes is for her betterment, when in fact, it's meant to keep her out of the way. "I'll be there shortly. Dist has failed again, I gather."
"No." The answer surprises him. How many replicas have they gone through now? Six? Seven? Though he would never say so, he hopes no further replica data is needed from him. His condition has been deteriorating quickly in recent days, and he doesn't want to expire before they've succeeded.
The teacup finds its saucer with a soft clink.
"Take me there now."
===
Dist seems pleased to see him, doubtlessly because he's proud of his work and is in a mood to brag to whoever will listen. "I hope you find the results to your liking," he says airily. His smile borders pleasant insanity.
Ion ignores him because he's entirely engrossed in his mirror reflection, rendered in flesh and standing only feet from him. It's terrifying and enthralling to see a replica this functional. There have been others--he destroyed a few himself and left the rest up to Van, but they had been more like dolls than real people anyway.
He closes the gap between them, moving right up to his carbon-copy, identical down to the last ridiculous detail. He studies the face, so much like his own, and yet not his. Those eyes don't have any hate in them. There is no false smile.
Ion lets a smile creep over his own lips as he watches the replica's eyes study him, too. He reaches up with one cool hand, running fingertips down the fake Ion's cheek without a word.
He knows Van and Dist are watching hopefully. It's his approval that will decide whether this replica is sufficient.
"What do you think?" Van asks. "This is the seventh replica. Its parameters are the ones closest to your own."
The Fon Master's face doesn't falter at all, still smiling, still unreadable. "It's absolutely perfect."