more writing exercises
The first three drabbles are from this writing meme a month ago, and the last one is from waaaaaaay back in Feb'09. I'm so sorry for the delay and the crappiness under the cuts. OTL;
Unbeta'd, etc. etc. etc.
Habanera
Genre: General
Rating: G
Pairings: Carmen/Don José
Story Type: Drabble/one-shot
Summary: Women and men are all the same.
Disclaimer: Carmen (opera) was written by Georges Bizet in 1875; libretto by Henri Meilhac and Ludovic Halévy; original story of Spanish Gypsy by Propser Mérimée.
Spoilers: Uh, I would say the opera itself, but almost everyone knows the main characters and how the story unfolds, right? (Although there are a few discrepancies compared to the actual plot.)
Notes: Written for carmenchui - C for Carmen (the opera), Carmen/Don José.
-----
L'amour est enfant de Bohème,
il n'a jamais connu de loi,
si tu m'aimes pas, je t'aime;
si je t'aime, prendsgare à toi!
(Love is a Gypsy,
it has never been subject to any law.
If you do not love me, I love you;
if I love you, take care!)
-Act I, Carmen
-----
Women are fickle.
Or so they are accused of being.
She begs to differ, as she sits just outside the factory, with a lit cigarette between her teeth. It is hot, she thinks, rolling up her dirty sleeves a little more.
The lunch hour has barely begun, but already the other workers have abandoned their serious side and lapsed into what they truly are. Women in groups talk in whispers and giggles, send furtive glances to the scattered men, who just as willingly send back suggestive looks and gestures. She thinks this is all pointless; what good is there if there is a flock around you? It is troublesome, to the point of annoying. Her female co-workers are coy, but nowhere as cunning.
Just around the corner, she catches a glimpse of movement - men in military uniform. One of them is good-looking, with his head held-high and back straight.
She gets up from her perch and makes her way towards them, yet no further than two steps, she is surrounded by an eager male audience, vying for her hand.
"When will you love us?"
She detests this question. By answering, it will be like condemning herself, binding herself to just one man - she is not quite ready to settle down. So she evades them by a vague answer, all the while trying to see above their heads, to see the good-looking soldier, who has yet to look at the commotion.
Over the next few days, she continues to see the soldier - Don José, she learns - in the vicinity of the cigarette factory. He's straight-forward, hardworking, all in all a good man - but she cannot help but feel appalled by this, because there has not been a man who has refused her before.
Determined to remedy this, she sets out to catch his attention. A swing-by during her breaks, sending cigarettes to his barracks, little things here and there that eventually lead up to his approach. She smirks in satisfaction; even if he is already bound to another girl, he still cannot resist the basic instinct of a man.
However, Don José turns out to be like all other men. She has thought him to be a man of good upbringing, respectable even in the face of temptation. She expects him to act as such, instead of lowering himself to the same level as those who spy and leer on the factory girls. And of all the shame to ask - when will you love me?
She has no use of such a man.
He calls her fickle, and she doesn't deny it.
But if anything, then all men are hypocrites.
- Owari -
Authoress' Notes: I don't have much to say about this...it's my first time writing a fanfic that's not based on animanga, so...feedback, yes?
Newlyweds
Genre: Romance/Humour
Rating: G
Pairings: Yami/Yuugi
Story Type: One-shot
Summary: They're legally husband and husband; so who does the "wifely" duties?
Disclaimer: Yuugiou is the intellectual property of Takahashi Kazuki.
Spoilers: None whatsoever. 8D
Notes: Written for duelist_gurl163 - K for Yuugiou, Puzzleshipping.
-----
It had taken a tremendous amount of courage and planning for Yami to properly propose to Yuugi. It had to be perfect because it was an once-in-a-lifetime thing (neither of them expected a divorce and remarriage or anything...they couldn't find anyone better than the current partner, even if they wanted to). He had broken his brain several times just coming up with the perfect set-up, the perfect bouquet, the perfect ring, down to the nitty-gritty details of perfect atmosphere in a perfect restaurant that served perfect food.
Of course, even with all his careful planning, not everything went his way. The only perfect thing that blessed his evening was getting Yuugi's approval - in the form of nearly cutting off his circulation. (For the record, the bouquet was missing a few roses; the engraving on the ring had a small scratch that could only been seen if looked at carefully; the violin was out of tune; and he clearly remembered not ordering escargots because Yuugi hated them, yet they had served them regardless!)
So now they were in their new apartment with new furniture of their lovely newlywed life. And it was going amazingly well too, until Yuugi asked him one day: "Hey, won't you make breakfast for me?"
Yami peeked from under the blanket and squinted in the sunlight. Yuugi was already up, shrugging on his shirt and brushing his teeth at the same time. Ever since he'd accepted the responsibility that he would be the one commandeering the kitchen, he'd tried to make an effort in waking up earlier than Yuugi, who needed to leave the house by eight to catch his train in the rush hour (whereas Yami worked at home, so he could technically sleep until noon for all he cared).
It was a little tiring, but seeing Yuugi smile was worth waking up early. Yuugi didn't have to particularly know that he went back to bed after he left, after all.
"Good morning, Yami."
"Morning, Yuugi." He got a kiss on the cheek. "Scrambled or sunny-side up today?"
"Scrambled is okay," he yawned, grabbing his mug to pour himself some coffee. After a sip and a rub of his eye, he grinned. "As I thought, pink does look good on you, Yami."
- Owari -
Authoress' Notes: You wanted to see apron!Yami, right? xD And I partially needed to pacify my newlywed!muse, who wouldn't shut up.
Checkmate
Genre: General
Rating: G
Character: Orihara Izaya
Story Type: One-shot
Summary: Ikebukuro is his play-place, and he won't hand it over to anyone else.
Disclaimer: Durarara! is the intellectual property of Narita Ryougo.
Spoilers: None.
Notes: Written for ciemny_i_maly - N for Durarara!!, Orihara Izaya.
-----
It's tough to make an impression in a city that's as busy as Ikebukuro and twice as difficult to remain as one of the most successful - the top, the king, if you will. According to Orihara Izaya's philosophy, the only way to let others know that they can never be superior to you is to keep them on their toes by things that will hurt them in a public sense: any sort or form of information that can defame, degrade, or denounce their reputation. Your image is very, very important in a city as bustling as this.
And that's why he's an information broker. He's amused - not amazed, mind you, don't be confused - at the sheer amount of things he hears and sees everyday. Humans are so full of flaws that make them so endearing; in a week, he can't even keep count of the number of lies, divorces, suicides, failures with his fingers and toes. As he grows more infamous, more people come to him, to ask him for certain things, most likely to shut their opponents up, either temporarily or permanently, if you get their drift.
Izaya enjoys this, toying with other people's emotions and mental states, driving them into a corner and when they can't find a way out, they come back to beg him. He enjoys the money that roll in, sometimes just because of a single numerical figure (often in the billions). He loves how the people who come for his services play right into his hands; conversations go exactly as he's planned in his head, and in the end, they're all just so predictable.
When the Colour Gangs begin to dominate the city, Izaya is a little put out by the fact that they're gaining so much attention; he's the master of the city, not groups of punks that don't know their place. He's the one everyone should rely upon to solve their problems - intelligently, not by brute force like barbarians. He can't forgive them for stealing his status, it's a ridiculous idea to entertain, that Orihara Izaya will be done in by a bunch of teenagers.
He grins to himself as he sets up the pieces strategically on the chessboard. He'll have them against each other first, before they take his place as king.
- Owari -
Authoress' Notes: I still like Izaya, despite the bastard that he is. Just not as much Mikado. :P
/has no proper Pokemon icon, shame;;;
Work and Play
Genre: General
Rating: G
Pairings: Nurse Joy/Officer Jenny
Story Type: Drabble/one-shot
Summary: After work hours, it's their free time.
Disclaimer: Pokemon is the property of its (too many to be listed) owners.
Spoilers: None.
Warnings: I have almost zero knowledge of Pokemon, after the first 151 ones.
Notes: For carmenchui (again), who requested for "Joy and Jenny running into each other at a café and hitting things off after a hard day's work." Let me tell you right here and now that this little bugger took forever to get written down. ARGH.
-----
It had been a particularly excruciating day. It was as if all the Pokemon that came in had deliberately planned on being injured at the same time, with their worried trainers cluttering around the reception desk and causing even more casualties. The entire place had been going at full blast since morning until evening, and neither she nor any of the Chanseys had much of a break. To say she was exhausted was the understatement of the year.
So when the last of the Pokemon had been cared for and it was finally time to close, she breathed a sigh of relief and had half a mind to sleep in tomorrow. But she knew she couldn't do that, as she was the only attending nurse in the town, and it was too late to call for a substitute. She just hoped her Chanseys have enough time to recuperate as well.
She decided to stop by the café on her way home. There were still a few charts to go through and caffeine would be necessary for staying up. The bells tinkled and she noticed a familiar figure at the counter. (She figured the motorcycle outside looked a bit familiar too.)
"Fancy seeing you here."
"Same here. Just got off work?"
"Ooh yeah. I just hope tomorrow won't be a repeat of today; I don't think I'll survive another."
"Tell me about it. It's like they planned everything to happen today or something."
"Your coffee, Nurse Joy."
"Aah, thank you." She turned back to her companion. "I should go back now, I still have some more work to do."
"I'll take you back, my bike's just outside."
"I don't want to trouble you; you've had a tough day yourself-"
"Nonsense, it's faster anyways."
In the end, she allowed her to take her home, and as thanks she invited her in (it was more of a reflex of good manners than anything). Jenny didn't hesitate, kind of glad to not stand outside in the chilly night air. And if she could get a green light on sleeping over, she would be ecstatic; Joy's place was closer to her workplace after all.
Jenny curled up on the sofa, sighing contentedly that at last some of the stress was leaving her system. Her shoulders had been terribly stiff with paranoia today (for some reason) and she had no peace of mind. The cushions smelled nice too. She took a deep breath, almost purring like a cat being rubbed behind its ears. The room was warm, and hazily she thought Joy was calling her. Maybe. But she was pretty sure she wasn't alone for a good period of time, yet she woke up to only a thick blanket over her. She couldn't remember when and how she changed into such comfortable sleepwear, but she wasn't complaining.
Joy was on the one-seater next to her, also huddled up in a (thinner) blanket. She looked kind of...cute like that, out of her usual uniform but in pink pyjamas.
She could...live like this, actually.
- Owari -
Authoress' Notes: LOL YOU CAN TELL SHOUJO-AI/YURI ARE DEFINITELY NOT MY FORTE. Nor is this fandom. Vagueness is vague.
Unbeta'd, etc. etc. etc.
Habanera
Genre: General
Rating: G
Pairings: Carmen/Don José
Story Type: Drabble/one-shot
Summary: Women and men are all the same.
Disclaimer: Carmen (opera) was written by Georges Bizet in 1875; libretto by Henri Meilhac and Ludovic Halévy; original story of Spanish Gypsy by Propser Mérimée.
Spoilers: Uh, I would say the opera itself, but almost everyone knows the main characters and how the story unfolds, right? (Although there are a few discrepancies compared to the actual plot.)
Notes: Written for carmenchui - C for Carmen (the opera), Carmen/Don José.
-----
L'amour est enfant de Bohème,
il n'a jamais connu de loi,
si tu m'aimes pas, je t'aime;
si je t'aime, prendsgare à toi!
(Love is a Gypsy,
it has never been subject to any law.
If you do not love me, I love you;
if I love you, take care!)
-Act I, Carmen
-----
Women are fickle.
Or so they are accused of being.
She begs to differ, as she sits just outside the factory, with a lit cigarette between her teeth. It is hot, she thinks, rolling up her dirty sleeves a little more.
The lunch hour has barely begun, but already the other workers have abandoned their serious side and lapsed into what they truly are. Women in groups talk in whispers and giggles, send furtive glances to the scattered men, who just as willingly send back suggestive looks and gestures. She thinks this is all pointless; what good is there if there is a flock around you? It is troublesome, to the point of annoying. Her female co-workers are coy, but nowhere as cunning.
Just around the corner, she catches a glimpse of movement - men in military uniform. One of them is good-looking, with his head held-high and back straight.
She gets up from her perch and makes her way towards them, yet no further than two steps, she is surrounded by an eager male audience, vying for her hand.
"When will you love us?"
She detests this question. By answering, it will be like condemning herself, binding herself to just one man - she is not quite ready to settle down. So she evades them by a vague answer, all the while trying to see above their heads, to see the good-looking soldier, who has yet to look at the commotion.
Over the next few days, she continues to see the soldier - Don José, she learns - in the vicinity of the cigarette factory. He's straight-forward, hardworking, all in all a good man - but she cannot help but feel appalled by this, because there has not been a man who has refused her before.
Determined to remedy this, she sets out to catch his attention. A swing-by during her breaks, sending cigarettes to his barracks, little things here and there that eventually lead up to his approach. She smirks in satisfaction; even if he is already bound to another girl, he still cannot resist the basic instinct of a man.
However, Don José turns out to be like all other men. She has thought him to be a man of good upbringing, respectable even in the face of temptation. She expects him to act as such, instead of lowering himself to the same level as those who spy and leer on the factory girls. And of all the shame to ask - when will you love me?
She has no use of such a man.
He calls her fickle, and she doesn't deny it.
But if anything, then all men are hypocrites.
- Owari -
Authoress' Notes: I don't have much to say about this...it's my first time writing a fanfic that's not based on animanga, so...feedback, yes?
Newlyweds
Genre: Romance/Humour
Rating: G
Pairings: Yami/Yuugi
Story Type: One-shot
Summary: They're legally husband and husband; so who does the "wifely" duties?
Disclaimer: Yuugiou is the intellectual property of Takahashi Kazuki.
Spoilers: None whatsoever. 8D
Notes: Written for duelist_gurl163 - K for Yuugiou, Puzzleshipping.
-----
It had taken a tremendous amount of courage and planning for Yami to properly propose to Yuugi. It had to be perfect because it was an once-in-a-lifetime thing (neither of them expected a divorce and remarriage or anything...they couldn't find anyone better than the current partner, even if they wanted to). He had broken his brain several times just coming up with the perfect set-up, the perfect bouquet, the perfect ring, down to the nitty-gritty details of perfect atmosphere in a perfect restaurant that served perfect food.
Of course, even with all his careful planning, not everything went his way. The only perfect thing that blessed his evening was getting Yuugi's approval - in the form of nearly cutting off his circulation. (For the record, the bouquet was missing a few roses; the engraving on the ring had a small scratch that could only been seen if looked at carefully; the violin was out of tune; and he clearly remembered not ordering escargots because Yuugi hated them, yet they had served them regardless!)
So now they were in their new apartment with new furniture of their lovely newlywed life. And it was going amazingly well too, until Yuugi asked him one day: "Hey, won't you make breakfast for me?"
Yami peeked from under the blanket and squinted in the sunlight. Yuugi was already up, shrugging on his shirt and brushing his teeth at the same time. Ever since he'd accepted the responsibility that he would be the one commandeering the kitchen, he'd tried to make an effort in waking up earlier than Yuugi, who needed to leave the house by eight to catch his train in the rush hour (whereas Yami worked at home, so he could technically sleep until noon for all he cared).
It was a little tiring, but seeing Yuugi smile was worth waking up early. Yuugi didn't have to particularly know that he went back to bed after he left, after all.
"Good morning, Yami."
"Morning, Yuugi." He got a kiss on the cheek. "Scrambled or sunny-side up today?"
"Scrambled is okay," he yawned, grabbing his mug to pour himself some coffee. After a sip and a rub of his eye, he grinned. "As I thought, pink does look good on you, Yami."
- Owari -
Authoress' Notes: You wanted to see apron!Yami, right? xD And I partially needed to pacify my newlywed!muse, who wouldn't shut up.
Checkmate
Genre: General
Rating: G
Character: Orihara Izaya
Story Type: One-shot
Summary: Ikebukuro is his play-place, and he won't hand it over to anyone else.
Disclaimer: Durarara! is the intellectual property of Narita Ryougo.
Spoilers: None.
Notes: Written for ciemny_i_maly - N for Durarara!!, Orihara Izaya.
-----
It's tough to make an impression in a city that's as busy as Ikebukuro and twice as difficult to remain as one of the most successful - the top, the king, if you will. According to Orihara Izaya's philosophy, the only way to let others know that they can never be superior to you is to keep them on their toes by things that will hurt them in a public sense: any sort or form of information that can defame, degrade, or denounce their reputation. Your image is very, very important in a city as bustling as this.
And that's why he's an information broker. He's amused - not amazed, mind you, don't be confused - at the sheer amount of things he hears and sees everyday. Humans are so full of flaws that make them so endearing; in a week, he can't even keep count of the number of lies, divorces, suicides, failures with his fingers and toes. As he grows more infamous, more people come to him, to ask him for certain things, most likely to shut their opponents up, either temporarily or permanently, if you get their drift.
Izaya enjoys this, toying with other people's emotions and mental states, driving them into a corner and when they can't find a way out, they come back to beg him. He enjoys the money that roll in, sometimes just because of a single numerical figure (often in the billions). He loves how the people who come for his services play right into his hands; conversations go exactly as he's planned in his head, and in the end, they're all just so predictable.
When the Colour Gangs begin to dominate the city, Izaya is a little put out by the fact that they're gaining so much attention; he's the master of the city, not groups of punks that don't know their place. He's the one everyone should rely upon to solve their problems - intelligently, not by brute force like barbarians. He can't forgive them for stealing his status, it's a ridiculous idea to entertain, that Orihara Izaya will be done in by a bunch of teenagers.
He grins to himself as he sets up the pieces strategically on the chessboard. He'll have them against each other first, before they take his place as king.
- Owari -
Authoress' Notes: I still like Izaya, despite the bastard that he is. Just not as much Mikado. :P
/has no proper Pokemon icon, shame;;;
Work and Play
Genre: General
Rating: G
Pairings: Nurse Joy/Officer Jenny
Story Type: Drabble/one-shot
Summary: After work hours, it's their free time.
Disclaimer: Pokemon is the property of its (too many to be listed) owners.
Spoilers: None.
Warnings: I have almost zero knowledge of Pokemon, after the first 151 ones.
Notes: For carmenchui (again), who requested for "Joy and Jenny running into each other at a café and hitting things off after a hard day's work." Let me tell you right here and now that this little bugger took forever to get written down. ARGH.
-----
It had been a particularly excruciating day. It was as if all the Pokemon that came in had deliberately planned on being injured at the same time, with their worried trainers cluttering around the reception desk and causing even more casualties. The entire place had been going at full blast since morning until evening, and neither she nor any of the Chanseys had much of a break. To say she was exhausted was the understatement of the year.
So when the last of the Pokemon had been cared for and it was finally time to close, she breathed a sigh of relief and had half a mind to sleep in tomorrow. But she knew she couldn't do that, as she was the only attending nurse in the town, and it was too late to call for a substitute. She just hoped her Chanseys have enough time to recuperate as well.
She decided to stop by the café on her way home. There were still a few charts to go through and caffeine would be necessary for staying up. The bells tinkled and she noticed a familiar figure at the counter. (She figured the motorcycle outside looked a bit familiar too.)
"Fancy seeing you here."
"Same here. Just got off work?"
"Ooh yeah. I just hope tomorrow won't be a repeat of today; I don't think I'll survive another."
"Tell me about it. It's like they planned everything to happen today or something."
"Your coffee, Nurse Joy."
"Aah, thank you." She turned back to her companion. "I should go back now, I still have some more work to do."
"I'll take you back, my bike's just outside."
"I don't want to trouble you; you've had a tough day yourself-"
"Nonsense, it's faster anyways."
In the end, she allowed her to take her home, and as thanks she invited her in (it was more of a reflex of good manners than anything). Jenny didn't hesitate, kind of glad to not stand outside in the chilly night air. And if she could get a green light on sleeping over, she would be ecstatic; Joy's place was closer to her workplace after all.
Jenny curled up on the sofa, sighing contentedly that at last some of the stress was leaving her system. Her shoulders had been terribly stiff with paranoia today (for some reason) and she had no peace of mind. The cushions smelled nice too. She took a deep breath, almost purring like a cat being rubbed behind its ears. The room was warm, and hazily she thought Joy was calling her. Maybe. But she was pretty sure she wasn't alone for a good period of time, yet she woke up to only a thick blanket over her. She couldn't remember when and how she changed into such comfortable sleepwear, but she wasn't complaining.
Joy was on the one-seater next to her, also huddled up in a (thinner) blanket. She looked kind of...cute like that, out of her usual uniform but in pink pyjamas.
She could...live like this, actually.
- Owari -
Authoress' Notes: LOL YOU CAN TELL SHOUJO-AI/YURI ARE DEFINITELY NOT MY FORTE. Nor is this fandom. Vagueness is vague.