On the third day of Christmas
my true love sent to me
three offered hands
[Title] Reassurance
[Fandom] Death Note
[Rating] G
[Word Count] 723
[Notes/Summary] Rester only saw another side of Near on three occasions.
I'm very glad he let you survive
[Title] Go Big or Go Home
[Fandom] Jet Set Radio
[Rating] G
[Word Count] 806
[Notes/Summary] The GGs consider what they may be getting into re: corporate terrorism.
“What are you thinking, leader man?”
Beat wasn’t actually thinking much, he was just sitting on the roof gazing out at the city and wondering how you knew when you’d bitten off more than you could chew. So he’s kind of glad of the interruption. It’s Tab, elbows on the edge of the skylight, and then Gum behind him: “Probably that he didn’t run away to the big city to battle corporate terrorism. But -” She’s elbowing Tab out of the way, clambering up onto the roof: “Seeing as he’s here, he came here to kick ass and spray paint, and he’s all out of paint.”
“More like I came to spray paint and it seems like now I have to kick ass,” Beat says, shifting over a little to make room for her. The sun’s almost set; the garage sits in shadow, lights glimmer on the city around them, the Rokkaku Tower looms on the horizon like a big black metaphor. Maybe he was staring out at it to try to make himself feel more like the hero. “And I’m not that good at kicking ass. More like skate into them, steal their paint and run away. To spray more paint. Basically, the point I’m making is, I think this is getting outside of my skills set.”
“Well, it’s not just your skills set.” Tab’s come to sit next to them. “You do have, like, four other loyal delinquent supporters. Maybe more, if shit really is getting real. I mean, rudies are territorial, but if it’s that or letting the Man divide and conquer you...”
“Plus that Combo guy looks like he’d be handy in a fight, and Cube said she pierced her own nose with a needle,” Gum says. “And it’s personal for them, if their story’s legit. Their friend got swiped. For what it’s worth, I think it is legit. Not just ‘cause she’s hot, either,” she says, prodding Tab in the arm before he could say anything. “They seem solid, both of ‘em.”
“I wasn’t gonna say anything about anyone’s perceived hotness,” Tab says. “I think they’re legit, too. I mean, some weird stuff’s been going on, and if they’re screwing with us, I think they’d make up a better story. And they seemed worried for real.”
“So… what you’re saying is...” Beat turns his back on the view to look at them both. “If we see any corporate terrorism or weird-ass posters covering up our tags, we should absolutely escalate and snoop, even though the smart money’d be on us keeping a low profile?”
“I guess. Yeah.” Gum nodded, looking thoughtful. “That is what I am saying. It’s certainly what Mew and Garam are saying. They said if we’re gonna go for this, count ‘em in. What being in a gang’s all about. Let’s do our best. Etcetera.”
“It’s what I’m saying,” Tab says. He pushes his hat back, meets Beat’s eyes. “Way I see it, if they’re starting shit, it’ll hit us first, ‘cause we’re always in places we ain’t supposed to be. And no one’ll care if we get hit, because rudie scum. So I say we take the initiative. The best defense is a good offense or whatever the hell.”
Beat can tell they’re both saying what he was thinking, even though he didn’t know he was thinking it. Just, he hears it and he’s like, Yeah. That.
“We could get killed, though,” he says, testing it out, seeing if it chills him to say it out loud. It doesn’t. It sounds like he’s being over-dramatic.
“We could always get killed,” Gum says. “Like Onishima literally tried to shoot us down with actual helicopters last week. I think it’s a bit late to start playing safe, you know? And if we’re risking our lives, I say go big or go home.”
“I don’t always co-sign that sentiment,” Tab says, “but in this case, yep. Definitely. We’re the GGs. Let’s bring it.”
“Do you want to do a hands-in-the-centre team yell thing?” Gum says, sticking out her hand at him. Even in the shadows Beat can see her fingers are smeared with the usual paint. “ ‘Cause we can. If you want. If it’ll imbue you with courage. We can get the others up here -”
Beat actually really wants to just, to just grab her hand, and Tab’s, and be like Just promise me you two won’t get killed, you’re like the first proper friends I’ve ever had, I need you not to be dead, okay? He manages not to, being the leader of a bad-ass street gang and all, and just holds his hand a little over hers and says, “Woohoo. Go team,” deadpan, to cover any mushiness. Maybe she and Tab pick up on it, though, because they stay sitting up on the roof with him.
[Title] Palm to Palm
[Fandom] Portal
[Rating] G
[Word Count] 394
[Notes/Summary] Chell looks at the writing on the walls.
She spent longer than she should’ve in the den behind the wall. She should have got back out there, finished the test, not let on that she’d found this place. Either it’s part of the test, in which case any feelings she gets from it are dangerous, or it’s not, in which case she needs not to let them - her? - know about it.
But she stayed, looking at the pasted-on pictures, crookedly glued, with bubbles and ridges from where it had dried. At the words scribbled over and over. At someone’s handwriting. At writing which was saying, Stop watching. Which was telling her, Yeah. This is bad. Everything you were thinking? You were right. It’s pretty stupid to trust something which is telling you that you’re right. Obviously you’ll believe it. But they were right before, with the crosses on the ceiling telling her where to aim, and who’s more likely to be lying, them or the voice on the intercom?
That’s seeing patterns where there aren’t any.
But you can’t just ignore everything your eyes tell you. You have to believe that some things are true. She’s spending a lot of time disbelieving, right now. And… this isn’t hope scribbled on the walls. This is someone who was scared, and angry, and lost. That’s all they’re saying. This is bad. And that’s fair enough. She was thinking that anyway.
She sat looking - feasting on the scribble and mess and wobbly lines and paper and charcoal - and if she was kind of thinking that yeah, she could use this, she could keep this in her head and maybe it would keep them (her) out of it, then… that was okay, maybe. She’s been thinking I can use this ever since she woke up here and she’s mostly been right.
She put out her hand to one of the prints on the wall. She leans close enough, she can see the individual fingerprints (and they don’t match hers. She checked). This hand belonged to someone. Might not any more. They might not still be a someone. But it was a someone, whenever it was they pressed their hand to the wall. Her coming by and seeing it, maybe that’s a victory, a small one. She rubs soot onto her hand off of the Companion Cube’s side, leaves her own palm print on the wall too.
three offered hands
[Title] Reassurance
[Fandom] Death Note
[Rating] G
[Word Count] 723
[Notes/Summary] Rester only saw another side of Near on three occasions.
I'm very glad he let you survive
[Title] Go Big or Go Home
[Fandom] Jet Set Radio
[Rating] G
[Word Count] 806
[Notes/Summary] The GGs consider what they may be getting into re: corporate terrorism.
“What are you thinking, leader man?”
Beat wasn’t actually thinking much, he was just sitting on the roof gazing out at the city and wondering how you knew when you’d bitten off more than you could chew. So he’s kind of glad of the interruption. It’s Tab, elbows on the edge of the skylight, and then Gum behind him: “Probably that he didn’t run away to the big city to battle corporate terrorism. But -” She’s elbowing Tab out of the way, clambering up onto the roof: “Seeing as he’s here, he came here to kick ass and spray paint, and he’s all out of paint.”
“More like I came to spray paint and it seems like now I have to kick ass,” Beat says, shifting over a little to make room for her. The sun’s almost set; the garage sits in shadow, lights glimmer on the city around them, the Rokkaku Tower looms on the horizon like a big black metaphor. Maybe he was staring out at it to try to make himself feel more like the hero. “And I’m not that good at kicking ass. More like skate into them, steal their paint and run away. To spray more paint. Basically, the point I’m making is, I think this is getting outside of my skills set.”
“Well, it’s not just your skills set.” Tab’s come to sit next to them. “You do have, like, four other loyal delinquent supporters. Maybe more, if shit really is getting real. I mean, rudies are territorial, but if it’s that or letting the Man divide and conquer you...”
“Plus that Combo guy looks like he’d be handy in a fight, and Cube said she pierced her own nose with a needle,” Gum says. “And it’s personal for them, if their story’s legit. Their friend got swiped. For what it’s worth, I think it is legit. Not just ‘cause she’s hot, either,” she says, prodding Tab in the arm before he could say anything. “They seem solid, both of ‘em.”
“I wasn’t gonna say anything about anyone’s perceived hotness,” Tab says. “I think they’re legit, too. I mean, some weird stuff’s been going on, and if they’re screwing with us, I think they’d make up a better story. And they seemed worried for real.”
“So… what you’re saying is...” Beat turns his back on the view to look at them both. “If we see any corporate terrorism or weird-ass posters covering up our tags, we should absolutely escalate and snoop, even though the smart money’d be on us keeping a low profile?”
“I guess. Yeah.” Gum nodded, looking thoughtful. “That is what I am saying. It’s certainly what Mew and Garam are saying. They said if we’re gonna go for this, count ‘em in. What being in a gang’s all about. Let’s do our best. Etcetera.”
“It’s what I’m saying,” Tab says. He pushes his hat back, meets Beat’s eyes. “Way I see it, if they’re starting shit, it’ll hit us first, ‘cause we’re always in places we ain’t supposed to be. And no one’ll care if we get hit, because rudie scum. So I say we take the initiative. The best defense is a good offense or whatever the hell.”
Beat can tell they’re both saying what he was thinking, even though he didn’t know he was thinking it. Just, he hears it and he’s like, Yeah. That.
“We could get killed, though,” he says, testing it out, seeing if it chills him to say it out loud. It doesn’t. It sounds like he’s being over-dramatic.
“We could always get killed,” Gum says. “Like Onishima literally tried to shoot us down with actual helicopters last week. I think it’s a bit late to start playing safe, you know? And if we’re risking our lives, I say go big or go home.”
“I don’t always co-sign that sentiment,” Tab says, “but in this case, yep. Definitely. We’re the GGs. Let’s bring it.”
“Do you want to do a hands-in-the-centre team yell thing?” Gum says, sticking out her hand at him. Even in the shadows Beat can see her fingers are smeared with the usual paint. “ ‘Cause we can. If you want. If it’ll imbue you with courage. We can get the others up here -”
Beat actually really wants to just, to just grab her hand, and Tab’s, and be like Just promise me you two won’t get killed, you’re like the first proper friends I’ve ever had, I need you not to be dead, okay? He manages not to, being the leader of a bad-ass street gang and all, and just holds his hand a little over hers and says, “Woohoo. Go team,” deadpan, to cover any mushiness. Maybe she and Tab pick up on it, though, because they stay sitting up on the roof with him.
[Title] Palm to Palm
[Fandom] Portal
[Rating] G
[Word Count] 394
[Notes/Summary] Chell looks at the writing on the walls.
She spent longer than she should’ve in the den behind the wall. She should have got back out there, finished the test, not let on that she’d found this place. Either it’s part of the test, in which case any feelings she gets from it are dangerous, or it’s not, in which case she needs not to let them - her? - know about it.
But she stayed, looking at the pasted-on pictures, crookedly glued, with bubbles and ridges from where it had dried. At the words scribbled over and over. At someone’s handwriting. At writing which was saying, Stop watching. Which was telling her, Yeah. This is bad. Everything you were thinking? You were right. It’s pretty stupid to trust something which is telling you that you’re right. Obviously you’ll believe it. But they were right before, with the crosses on the ceiling telling her where to aim, and who’s more likely to be lying, them or the voice on the intercom?
That’s seeing patterns where there aren’t any.
But you can’t just ignore everything your eyes tell you. You have to believe that some things are true. She’s spending a lot of time disbelieving, right now. And… this isn’t hope scribbled on the walls. This is someone who was scared, and angry, and lost. That’s all they’re saying. This is bad. And that’s fair enough. She was thinking that anyway.
She sat looking - feasting on the scribble and mess and wobbly lines and paper and charcoal - and if she was kind of thinking that yeah, she could use this, she could keep this in her head and maybe it would keep them (her) out of it, then… that was okay, maybe. She’s been thinking I can use this ever since she woke up here and she’s mostly been right.
She put out her hand to one of the prints on the wall. She leans close enough, she can see the individual fingerprints (and they don’t match hers. She checked). This hand belonged to someone. Might not any more. They might not still be a someone. But it was a someone, whenever it was they pressed their hand to the wall. Her coming by and seeing it, maybe that’s a victory, a small one. She rubs soot onto her hand off of the Companion Cube’s side, leaves her own palm print on the wall too.