#38. Can't take my eyes off of you
Title: Cleverly Seduced
Series: Bleach
Spoilers: Through most of the Soul Society Arc. So let's say books 6 through 21 just to be safe. Or at least up until chapter 170?
Characters: Aizen Sousuke (sort of) and Hinamori Momo mostly with a dash of Hitsugaya Toushirou.
Pairing(s): Aizen x Hinamori, or maybe it's more Hinamori-->Aizen...? Or better yet Hitsugaya-->Hinamori-->Aizen? Love (congo??) line! ... Only, no, definitely not. It's only shippy if you squint.
Author Notes: Perhaps one of the more pretentious pieces I've ever taken a hand to. Yes, I actually took the time (sleeping time!) to greatly consider the structure. Marvel at it! The end mirrors the beginning and there is a specific number of sentences for each portion (though as usual the rules of grammar are thrown to the wind!). Originally I had wanted each piece to be f, e, d, ect, but when I realized I needed a part 2 (or side a/b, in the case of how it turned out), I figured I'd copy Kubo-san's style (sorry!). Is it odd that I was surprised by how long this fic turned out to be?? By the way, the title and cut-tag are courtesy of 10 Years "the Recipe". Oh, and, um, you'll have to read the fic to get my last "spoilery" note.
Prompt: #38. Can't take my eyes off of you. Yeah I'm still doing this (dammit!) so see what's taken or what's left.
III. (side a)
When she looks up she thinks to herself, maybe this is enough.
II.
There is a twisting in her stomach, knots undone, even as her feet are staggering and stumbling forward in her haste and disbelief. She thinks that this cannot possibly be real because wishes never come true.
I.
There is betrayal and then there is this: her throat so tight with tears that she can barely speak the words; she wonders how it is that she is still breathing, let alone feeding her rage with her feelings--feelings she is having trouble describing, even to her childhood friend. Former friend, she thinks bitterly, as she raises her sword, as she tries to focus on his boyish face creased with concern and confusion. But more than their past, more their history together, there are his words, written words, folded and safe against her breast, her shuddering heart beating so fast behind them (enough for the both of us!, she thinks) and she believes because without it, there is nothing else left.
-I.
Her first thought is this: wretched eyes, how could you betray me? But even as the thought ricochets through her mind, from her throat comes a scream she does not recognize as her own--maybe because she never believed she could feel pain like this, maybe because she believed she would forever be by his side. And he is there, though not beside her but above her; irrationally she thinks of butterflies pinned even as her eyes take in the sight of the white soaking the red--the spiderwebbing and splattering of red that runs forever down the side of the building and it is all she can see--this crimson sort of anger that can wipe away the pain for a while, a minute respite, and she burns with it as she draws her sword. She will avenge him--she will be his weapon, even if he is no longer there to wield her.
-II.
She laces her fingers together as her eyes find the floor and she wonders why she thought to come here, to his room, even as he beckons her in. She is worried for him, yes, but then there is the casual sweep to his hair and the warmth in his eyes before the light catches his lenses and she tells herself, duty before wishes, because hope leads to dreaming. And she cannot afford to dream when it is her duty to be vigilant--for his sake.
-III.
There are the cautionary words from her childhood friend, as though he felt she weren't fretting enough without having her eyes opened to the possibility (the reality?) that there is so much brewing beneath and between the lines and she does not know where to begin to look. Yes, there is a quiet horror budding in her chest and she longs for the peaceful times of only a few weeks before.
III. (side b)
There is one word for her denial, one alone, because she thinks maybe this man is a mirage after all, a dream made out of wishes that will never come to pass, and as everything crashes around her (or maybe it is she who is a deck of cards collapsed), she thinks, I always thought that to die by his side would be enough.
[Author's Note of the Spoilery Kind!:] That one word she says is Japanese and it's "uso", which, when translated to English, is not one word at all. But damn is it eloquent in all that it says and doesn't say--anyway, it could be translated to "it's a lie" or "this can't be true" or "you're lying" or "I don't believe this"--I suppose all depending on context and your friendly translator. Literally "uso" means "lie", and man, do I love the simplicity of her denial, even when everything is spelled out plain as day (or, uh, the sword stabbed through your chest). I love you Hinamori, you one mind-messed-puppy-thing you. Oh how I wish I could portray the simplicity of her belief and that tenuous fervor behind it.
Series: Bleach
Spoilers: Through most of the Soul Society Arc. So let's say books 6 through 21 just to be safe. Or at least up until chapter 170?
Characters: Aizen Sousuke (sort of) and Hinamori Momo mostly with a dash of Hitsugaya Toushirou.
Pairing(s): Aizen x Hinamori, or maybe it's more Hinamori-->Aizen...? Or better yet Hitsugaya-->Hinamori-->Aizen? Love (congo??) line! ... Only, no, definitely not. It's only shippy if you squint.
Author Notes: Perhaps one of the more pretentious pieces I've ever taken a hand to. Yes, I actually took the time (sleeping time!) to greatly consider the structure. Marvel at it! The end mirrors the beginning and there is a specific number of sentences for each portion (though as usual the rules of grammar are thrown to the wind!). Originally I had wanted each piece to be f, e, d, ect, but when I realized I needed a part 2 (or side a/b, in the case of how it turned out), I figured I'd copy Kubo-san's style (sorry!). Is it odd that I was surprised by how long this fic turned out to be?? By the way, the title and cut-tag are courtesy of 10 Years "the Recipe". Oh, and, um, you'll have to read the fic to get my last "spoilery" note.
Prompt: #38. Can't take my eyes off of you. Yeah I'm still doing this (dammit!) so see what's taken or what's left.
III. (side a)
When she looks up she thinks to herself, maybe this is enough.
II.
There is a twisting in her stomach, knots undone, even as her feet are staggering and stumbling forward in her haste and disbelief. She thinks that this cannot possibly be real because wishes never come true.
I.
There is betrayal and then there is this: her throat so tight with tears that she can barely speak the words; she wonders how it is that she is still breathing, let alone feeding her rage with her feelings--feelings she is having trouble describing, even to her childhood friend. Former friend, she thinks bitterly, as she raises her sword, as she tries to focus on his boyish face creased with concern and confusion. But more than their past, more their history together, there are his words, written words, folded and safe against her breast, her shuddering heart beating so fast behind them (enough for the both of us!, she thinks) and she believes because without it, there is nothing else left.
-I.
Her first thought is this: wretched eyes, how could you betray me? But even as the thought ricochets through her mind, from her throat comes a scream she does not recognize as her own--maybe because she never believed she could feel pain like this, maybe because she believed she would forever be by his side. And he is there, though not beside her but above her; irrationally she thinks of butterflies pinned even as her eyes take in the sight of the white soaking the red--the spiderwebbing and splattering of red that runs forever down the side of the building and it is all she can see--this crimson sort of anger that can wipe away the pain for a while, a minute respite, and she burns with it as she draws her sword. She will avenge him--she will be his weapon, even if he is no longer there to wield her.
-II.
She laces her fingers together as her eyes find the floor and she wonders why she thought to come here, to his room, even as he beckons her in. She is worried for him, yes, but then there is the casual sweep to his hair and the warmth in his eyes before the light catches his lenses and she tells herself, duty before wishes, because hope leads to dreaming. And she cannot afford to dream when it is her duty to be vigilant--for his sake.
-III.
There are the cautionary words from her childhood friend, as though he felt she weren't fretting enough without having her eyes opened to the possibility (the reality?) that there is so much brewing beneath and between the lines and she does not know where to begin to look. Yes, there is a quiet horror budding in her chest and she longs for the peaceful times of only a few weeks before.
III. (side b)
There is one word for her denial, one alone, because she thinks maybe this man is a mirage after all, a dream made out of wishes that will never come to pass, and as everything crashes around her (or maybe it is she who is a deck of cards collapsed), she thinks, I always thought that to die by his side would be enough.
[Author's Note of the Spoilery Kind!:] That one word she says is Japanese and it's "uso", which, when translated to English, is not one word at all. But damn is it eloquent in all that it says and doesn't say--anyway, it could be translated to "it's a lie" or "this can't be true" or "you're lying" or "I don't believe this"--I suppose all depending on context and your friendly translator. Literally "uso" means "lie", and man, do I love the simplicity of her denial, even when everything is spelled out plain as day (or, uh, the sword stabbed through your chest). I love you Hinamori, you one mind-messed-puppy-thing you. Oh how I wish I could portray the simplicity of her belief and that tenuous fervor behind it.