HAPPY BIRTHDAY, kye_kestrel! [1/5]
BACKSTORY: kye_kestrel is celebrating in roughly an hour, so I've decided to attempt to resurrect my whole FIC THE NUMBER OF DRABBLES EQUIVALENT TO YOUR FRIEND'S AGE thing, since I wasn't able to do it with a lot of the other people who celebrated their birthdays this year. orz I MUST WORK HARDER AT THIS.
I know I should be posting this by midnight, but titling and editing everything took really long. I figured that I might as well toss them in now~
I've divided the drabbles between several entries. You can check the links for the others here:
2 || 3 || 4 || 5
ODIN SPHERE, SOUL EATER, FULL METAL ALCHEMIST, KINGDOM HEARTS, TENGEN TOPPA GURREN-LAGANN and all characters/ideas/concepts/places therein are not mine, although the writing certainly is. Themes are yoinked from 31_days and all that other blardy.
May 30 [2008]: Full Metal Alchemist. Safe and dry in my sea of troubles.
This one contains spoilers for the death of a particular character in the later half of the first TV series, and in the later chapters of the manga.
When the Colonel disappeared again and none of his subordinates could find him in any of the usual places, the first thing Riza Hawkeye did was check the date. Her findings confirmed her suspicions, and she promptly told Havoc and the rest of the crew to Proceed as Usual for the rest of the day. They followed her because they trusted her word, and everything went by as they normally did with one glaring difference - the Flame Alchemist himself was absent. Riza, however, was biding her time, waiting for the perfect opportunity to deal with the matter.
Once the evening bell struck, Riza logged out, took her coat and left headquarters without a word of explanation. She went to her colonel’s apartment, stopping over only once at a store to buy some popcorn. She entered the place with her wares in tow easily, for she had a key that all of the other women of the colonel envied, only that she was not his woman but his subordinate.
“I figured you would want something to eat by now, sir.”
“Ah. Thank you.”
Roy Mustang turned from the screen just long enough to smile at Riza before he went back to what he was doing - there was stack of reels sitting beside him, and a bigger box full of them at his feet. Riza glanced at the projector screen - there was an old movie playing, one that she remembered her parents, especially her father, enjoying very much because it was a romance set against the backdrop of a desperate war. Riza slipped into the kitchen, puttering about the area with the ease and familiarity of someone who had been in the place a million times before. She stepped out with two beers and a generously large bowl of popcorn; she set both on the coffee table in front of Roy.
“Do you want me to join you?”
“You’re welcome to.”
He was lying through his teeth and doing it absentmindedly, as though they were talking about menial, simple things. She knew for a fact that he needed to be alone, that it was the day that he and Maes Hughes used to play hokey at the office and hole themselves up at Roy’s place to watch old, old films. Roy still continued the routine because it was the only thing he knew how to do - keep up a routine, keep one’s self occupied, keep one from going just a little bit crazy over the fact that there really wasn’t much else to live for.
Riza knew that she was not wanted but she had to stay anyway, if only to make her feel better about things. So she retreated into the kitchen, made herself some coffee, and hunkered down for the night. In the meantime, Roy reached into the popcorn bowl and opened up one of the beers.
August 13 [2008]: Kingdom Hearts II. Trigger space.
When Axel and Roxas fight they move to the same rhythm, each one complementing the steps and moves of the other with a routine of his own, weaving in and out of each other’s space, killing everything between the two of them. The real joy in patrolling together, they realize, is not that they are harvesting more hearts for the end goal of the Organization, but that they get to be together, catching glimpses of each other among the bloodless gore and brilliant flame and endless movement of their battlefield.
By the end of each bout either one or both of them are hot with need, precisely because they are a pair of fighters who have reached that point of skill and battle lust where no fight, no matter how challenging, is enough to satisfy them. It’s not about all those silly concepts, like love and sexuality - those are for human beings, and they are no longer human. They are beyond human, and for creatures like them, there is nothing but the moment, and the strange, inexplicable urge to acquaint themselves with each other through their mouths and tongue. Nobodies, after all, can still feel, or remember what it is like to feel without all the complexities of the actual phenomenon.
They do not like difficult things, but they certainly like kissing.
June 10 [2008]: Odin Sphere. An operatic tragedy.
A possible look at what might have been running through Gwendolyn and Oswald’s minds during their first fateful encounter in the game.
To say that he had carved the image of himself upon her eyes would not be a gross exaggeration. She was a Valkyrie, a Battle Maiden and a Goddess of War: she had a heart of ice, for she was wed to her spear and would never know the touch of a man beyond that of the fingers of her father, holding her by the shoulder, solid and demanding and dictating exactly where she was to walk and what she was to do. It was only fitting, then, that she would fall for a man who was more at home when he was surrounded by death and destruction than he was anywhere else.
Nonetheless, it was not his face that she noticed first, but his hands, and the way they curled about the hilt of his swords, the weapons of his choice. It was not his lips that she stared at, but his eyes and how perfectly empty they were, showing nothing but the reflection of his victims as he stole their lives. She was a fighter, and fighters almost always sized a potential rival up, noting their forms, committing their movements to memory. What she had fallen in love with first, then, was the fact that he had perfected his killing technique, setting himself in a league well beyond any other individual who dared to call himself a warrior.
The beginning of their tragedy, however, was the fact that on the day they met, he had fallen in love not with her spear and not with her skill, but with her face, her hands, her lips and her eyes.
April 24 [2007]: Soul Eater. Listening to the rain.
This takes place, quite obviously, in the past, and quite possibly only in my head canon. @_@
It started, for the most part, the way an average day ought to - with the laughing sun and him fighting off the inexplicable urge to rip up the next thing or person that seemed vaguely interesting to him. Stein wisely decided that a smoke was in order, as packing in too much nicotine in his blood system often fogged up his mind just enough to keep his less socially acceptable instincts at bay. The silver-haired young man decided that it would be in his best interests to perform such overdosing in a secluded place, and promptly hiked out of his laboratory and up to the rooftop of his house, where he could sit just at the edge where the wind was nicest and smoke away.
He must have been working his way through his second pack when Spirit appeared out of nowhere, coming around and wordlessly plopping down behind him, using his back as some sort of makeshift chair - it was certainly not the first time they had sat in that fashion, but that did not change the fact that Stein hardly cared for the interruption.
“So you’re bored enough to come around, are you?”
“She and I talked last night.”
Given the fact that people had the propensity to drop lines like that at the most inappropriate times, Stein could only wonder why everyone was so caught up with the fact that he liked to cut things open. His quirk, at least, was not mentally disturbing and emotionally upsetting. The Technician took another drag of his cigarette rather than reply. Talking was useless; Spirit was going to go on whether he liked it or not, and, true enough, the redhead was speaking almost immediately after Stein entertained that thought.
“She… really wants to leave me.”
“I think any woman who has gone through what she has at your hands would want to.”
Cold and harsh, but it was the truth and that was exactly how Stein liked to deliver it. Three drags afterward, and he thought he felt the back against his own quiver, shaking in that quiet, sad sort of way that made people like him distinctly uncomfortable.
Stein put out his cigarette and thumbed out another one. In the meantime, Spirit snuffled, wiped his tears away with the back of his sleeve, and said nothing at all.
May 31 [2008]: Tengen Toppa Gurren-Lagann. Particle by particle she slowly changes.
This one contains spoilers for the later part of the first half of the series, and beyond.
She had been a sharpshooter since the tender age of six, lugging around and wielding a rifle that was nearly thrice her height and at least twice her body weight. It took her less than a month to get used to using her weapon (given the circumstances of her colony, she didn’t have any other choice BUT to get accustomed to it quickly), and by the end of the year she was the fastest and most accurate sniper in the colony, swinging her gun about like it was an extension of herself. They had weaned her off the sweeter and more innocent things in life early, early enough to make sure that killing was second nature to her and the weight in her hands was nothing less than a necessity.
Things changed when she met Kamina, because he was the type of person who sort of forced his way into things and rendered those around him incapable of doing anything but notice him. His bright eyes and loud voice suddenly made her uncomfortably aware of herself, of the fact that she was less a woman and more like a girl hiding behind the barrel of her gun. Suddenly, the one thing that defined her was the one thing that upset her, because it made her wonder if he was seeing her for who she was or seeing her for what she could do.
When he was killed, it took her two full days before she could even bear to lift her weapon up - it was almost as if it had taken on a life of its own, adding the weight of her failure to watch his back with all of the other smaller indiscretions she had made since she was a child. Simon and Nia proved to be a wake-up call, reminding her that she was not alone and she could not afford to give up because she was needed.
She welcomes the weight of her rifle now, whether it kisses the curve of her shoulder or sits heavy and dead in her arms. It shows her that perhaps Kamina is not entirely dead - he had left things behind, people and places that only a girl like her could protect.
I know I should be posting this by midnight, but titling and editing everything took really long. I figured that I might as well toss them in now~
I've divided the drabbles between several entries. You can check the links for the others here:
2 || 3 || 4 || 5
ODIN SPHERE, SOUL EATER, FULL METAL ALCHEMIST, KINGDOM HEARTS, TENGEN TOPPA GURREN-LAGANN and all characters/ideas/concepts/places therein are not mine, although the writing certainly is. Themes are yoinked from 31_days and all that other blardy.
May 30 [2008]: Full Metal Alchemist. Safe and dry in my sea of troubles.
This one contains spoilers for the death of a particular character in the later half of the first TV series, and in the later chapters of the manga.
When the Colonel disappeared again and none of his subordinates could find him in any of the usual places, the first thing Riza Hawkeye did was check the date. Her findings confirmed her suspicions, and she promptly told Havoc and the rest of the crew to Proceed as Usual for the rest of the day. They followed her because they trusted her word, and everything went by as they normally did with one glaring difference - the Flame Alchemist himself was absent. Riza, however, was biding her time, waiting for the perfect opportunity to deal with the matter.
Once the evening bell struck, Riza logged out, took her coat and left headquarters without a word of explanation. She went to her colonel’s apartment, stopping over only once at a store to buy some popcorn. She entered the place with her wares in tow easily, for she had a key that all of the other women of the colonel envied, only that she was not his woman but his subordinate.
“I figured you would want something to eat by now, sir.”
“Ah. Thank you.”
Roy Mustang turned from the screen just long enough to smile at Riza before he went back to what he was doing - there was stack of reels sitting beside him, and a bigger box full of them at his feet. Riza glanced at the projector screen - there was an old movie playing, one that she remembered her parents, especially her father, enjoying very much because it was a romance set against the backdrop of a desperate war. Riza slipped into the kitchen, puttering about the area with the ease and familiarity of someone who had been in the place a million times before. She stepped out with two beers and a generously large bowl of popcorn; she set both on the coffee table in front of Roy.
“Do you want me to join you?”
“You’re welcome to.”
He was lying through his teeth and doing it absentmindedly, as though they were talking about menial, simple things. She knew for a fact that he needed to be alone, that it was the day that he and Maes Hughes used to play hokey at the office and hole themselves up at Roy’s place to watch old, old films. Roy still continued the routine because it was the only thing he knew how to do - keep up a routine, keep one’s self occupied, keep one from going just a little bit crazy over the fact that there really wasn’t much else to live for.
Riza knew that she was not wanted but she had to stay anyway, if only to make her feel better about things. So she retreated into the kitchen, made herself some coffee, and hunkered down for the night. In the meantime, Roy reached into the popcorn bowl and opened up one of the beers.
August 13 [2008]: Kingdom Hearts II. Trigger space.
When Axel and Roxas fight they move to the same rhythm, each one complementing the steps and moves of the other with a routine of his own, weaving in and out of each other’s space, killing everything between the two of them. The real joy in patrolling together, they realize, is not that they are harvesting more hearts for the end goal of the Organization, but that they get to be together, catching glimpses of each other among the bloodless gore and brilliant flame and endless movement of their battlefield.
By the end of each bout either one or both of them are hot with need, precisely because they are a pair of fighters who have reached that point of skill and battle lust where no fight, no matter how challenging, is enough to satisfy them. It’s not about all those silly concepts, like love and sexuality - those are for human beings, and they are no longer human. They are beyond human, and for creatures like them, there is nothing but the moment, and the strange, inexplicable urge to acquaint themselves with each other through their mouths and tongue. Nobodies, after all, can still feel, or remember what it is like to feel without all the complexities of the actual phenomenon.
They do not like difficult things, but they certainly like kissing.
June 10 [2008]: Odin Sphere. An operatic tragedy.
A possible look at what might have been running through Gwendolyn and Oswald’s minds during their first fateful encounter in the game.
To say that he had carved the image of himself upon her eyes would not be a gross exaggeration. She was a Valkyrie, a Battle Maiden and a Goddess of War: she had a heart of ice, for she was wed to her spear and would never know the touch of a man beyond that of the fingers of her father, holding her by the shoulder, solid and demanding and dictating exactly where she was to walk and what she was to do. It was only fitting, then, that she would fall for a man who was more at home when he was surrounded by death and destruction than he was anywhere else.
Nonetheless, it was not his face that she noticed first, but his hands, and the way they curled about the hilt of his swords, the weapons of his choice. It was not his lips that she stared at, but his eyes and how perfectly empty they were, showing nothing but the reflection of his victims as he stole their lives. She was a fighter, and fighters almost always sized a potential rival up, noting their forms, committing their movements to memory. What she had fallen in love with first, then, was the fact that he had perfected his killing technique, setting himself in a league well beyond any other individual who dared to call himself a warrior.
The beginning of their tragedy, however, was the fact that on the day they met, he had fallen in love not with her spear and not with her skill, but with her face, her hands, her lips and her eyes.
April 24 [2007]: Soul Eater. Listening to the rain.
This takes place, quite obviously, in the past, and quite possibly only in my head canon. @_@
It started, for the most part, the way an average day ought to - with the laughing sun and him fighting off the inexplicable urge to rip up the next thing or person that seemed vaguely interesting to him. Stein wisely decided that a smoke was in order, as packing in too much nicotine in his blood system often fogged up his mind just enough to keep his less socially acceptable instincts at bay. The silver-haired young man decided that it would be in his best interests to perform such overdosing in a secluded place, and promptly hiked out of his laboratory and up to the rooftop of his house, where he could sit just at the edge where the wind was nicest and smoke away.
He must have been working his way through his second pack when Spirit appeared out of nowhere, coming around and wordlessly plopping down behind him, using his back as some sort of makeshift chair - it was certainly not the first time they had sat in that fashion, but that did not change the fact that Stein hardly cared for the interruption.
“So you’re bored enough to come around, are you?”
“She and I talked last night.”
Given the fact that people had the propensity to drop lines like that at the most inappropriate times, Stein could only wonder why everyone was so caught up with the fact that he liked to cut things open. His quirk, at least, was not mentally disturbing and emotionally upsetting. The Technician took another drag of his cigarette rather than reply. Talking was useless; Spirit was going to go on whether he liked it or not, and, true enough, the redhead was speaking almost immediately after Stein entertained that thought.
“She… really wants to leave me.”
“I think any woman who has gone through what she has at your hands would want to.”
Cold and harsh, but it was the truth and that was exactly how Stein liked to deliver it. Three drags afterward, and he thought he felt the back against his own quiver, shaking in that quiet, sad sort of way that made people like him distinctly uncomfortable.
Stein put out his cigarette and thumbed out another one. In the meantime, Spirit snuffled, wiped his tears away with the back of his sleeve, and said nothing at all.
May 31 [2008]: Tengen Toppa Gurren-Lagann. Particle by particle she slowly changes.
This one contains spoilers for the later part of the first half of the series, and beyond.
She had been a sharpshooter since the tender age of six, lugging around and wielding a rifle that was nearly thrice her height and at least twice her body weight. It took her less than a month to get used to using her weapon (given the circumstances of her colony, she didn’t have any other choice BUT to get accustomed to it quickly), and by the end of the year she was the fastest and most accurate sniper in the colony, swinging her gun about like it was an extension of herself. They had weaned her off the sweeter and more innocent things in life early, early enough to make sure that killing was second nature to her and the weight in her hands was nothing less than a necessity.
Things changed when she met Kamina, because he was the type of person who sort of forced his way into things and rendered those around him incapable of doing anything but notice him. His bright eyes and loud voice suddenly made her uncomfortably aware of herself, of the fact that she was less a woman and more like a girl hiding behind the barrel of her gun. Suddenly, the one thing that defined her was the one thing that upset her, because it made her wonder if he was seeing her for who she was or seeing her for what she could do.
When he was killed, it took her two full days before she could even bear to lift her weapon up - it was almost as if it had taken on a life of its own, adding the weight of her failure to watch his back with all of the other smaller indiscretions she had made since she was a child. Simon and Nia proved to be a wake-up call, reminding her that she was not alone and she could not afford to give up because she was needed.
She welcomes the weight of her rifle now, whether it kisses the curve of her shoulder or sits heavy and dead in her arms. It shows her that perhaps Kamina is not entirely dead - he had left things behind, people and places that only a girl like her could protect.