What I've been writing
I wanted to try my hand at a Maison Ikkoku drabble. Behold.
Disclaimer: Rumiko Takahashi has dibs on Maison Ikkoku. I just look on, envious, from afar. (Oh, and I swiped the idea for the title from a book and film by noted African American photojournalist Gordon Parks: Moments Without Proper Names. Haven't seen either; would like to.)
Author’s Note: Based on my experience thus far of the manga and anime. Sometime during Godai's internship at the school or job at the daycare.
Title: Those moments that have no name
Rating/Category: General/Romance
Pairings: Yes.
Summary: 100-word drabble. Kyoko waves Godai off to work.
Warnings/Spoilers: None.
"Good luck today!"
"Thanks, Manager!" He's past the wall. Receding footfalls gain speed: late again.
Broom in hand, she turns, pauses. A linen square slumps mid-path. Better pick it up before something shaggy noses it.
"Bowf?"
Who knew he even owned a handkerchief? I'll toss it in the wash. One thumb smoothes its creases: clean but frayed. A slight salt scent breathes from it, nothing like Soichiro-san's fresh-launderedness or Mitaka's spicy aftershave.
She pictures it jammed into a pocket while he hops from foot to foot, pulling on socks. A smile grows.
Handkerchief tucked in one palm, she resumes sweeping.
Also hammered out a ficlet for the utenadrabble community, made (more or less) to specifications for sansenmage:
Scales
Will probably post both to fanfiction dot net eventually.
Disclaimer: Rumiko Takahashi has dibs on Maison Ikkoku. I just look on, envious, from afar. (Oh, and I swiped the idea for the title from a book and film by noted African American photojournalist Gordon Parks: Moments Without Proper Names. Haven't seen either; would like to.)
Author’s Note: Based on my experience thus far of the manga and anime. Sometime during Godai's internship at the school or job at the daycare.
Title: Those moments that have no name
Rating/Category: General/Romance
Pairings: Yes.
Summary: 100-word drabble. Kyoko waves Godai off to work.
Warnings/Spoilers: None.
"Good luck today!"
"Thanks, Manager!" He's past the wall. Receding footfalls gain speed: late again.
Broom in hand, she turns, pauses. A linen square slumps mid-path. Better pick it up before something shaggy noses it.
"Bowf?"
Who knew he even owned a handkerchief? I'll toss it in the wash. One thumb smoothes its creases: clean but frayed. A slight salt scent breathes from it, nothing like Soichiro-san's fresh-launderedness or Mitaka's spicy aftershave.
She pictures it jammed into a pocket while he hops from foot to foot, pulling on socks. A smile grows.
Handkerchief tucked in one palm, she resumes sweeping.
Also hammered out a ficlet for the utenadrabble community, made (more or less) to specifications for sansenmage:
Scales
Will probably post both to fanfiction dot net eventually.