Smoke Trails

Wish

2009-11-28T08:16:28Z

Title: Wish
Fandom: xxxHOLIC
Warnings: Nothing intense--as in nothing above the PG level. A bit of spoilers for details that are revealed in the most recent chapters (192-193)
Other: So it seems like as Doumeki grows older Haruka-san grows younger...? Make of that what you will, since I didn't mention Haruka-san in the fic, but it was on my mind.

Doumeki came to visit him the day after he graduated high school. Watanuki kind of hated him for that, considering that he hadn’t been able to attend his last year.

He had to take care of the shop instead.

He could feel Doumeki’s eyes on him as he limped about the kitchen. The week earlier, he had slipped off a ladder and twisted his ankle. Watanuki was learning the hard way just how to accurately gauge the prices of requests, though the trial-and-error took its toll on his body in a way that he was almost afraid to continue.

“You’re limping.”

Of course. Leave it to Doumeki to point out the obvious. “I fell.” The truth.

“How?”

“From a ladder.” The truth again. But he still felt like he was lying, and from the expression on the other male’s face, Watanuki could tell that Doumeki knew that he wasn’t telling the whole truth. But he didn’t press on.

“Be careful,” he said, crossing his arms and shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Doumeki remained standing in the doorway to the kitchen. “That woman isn’t here to look out for you now.

Watanuki frowned, pausing in his preparation of dinner as he turned and looked at Doumeki over one shoulder. “What, and I imagine that you will be?” For some reason, the thought didn’t seem to bother him as much as it would have the year before. In fact, he was a bit shocked to realize that, in his head, the question was worded differently.

Can I be selfish enough? To wish for him to stay with me as he has been… To stay by my side.

Watanuki shook his head, clearing away the silly idea. He was in no position to make wishes any more: It was his job to grant them.

“When I’m not in class,” was Doumeki’s answer.

Muttering something under his breath about “never-ending torture,” Watanuki turned back to dinner. But, for some reason, he felt like the correct response should have been thank you.

There was something about that day that, over the next several years, Watanuki would look back on and feel like he had gone wrong. Maybe it was because of this uneven exchange, the price being far below that which was required of the fulfillment of the wish, that he found himself suffering from a constant, nagging heartache. The shop was only making up the difference in the one way that it could.

Years later, years after that day, Watanuki had a dream. He couldn’t remember it very well, as by this time his nights started meshing into one continual stream of consciousness, broken only by his waking hours.

In his dream, Doumeki was young again. And while Watanuki looked the same then as he does now, he didn’t feel young. Seventeen forever; Doumeki was the one who reflected the toll of the years. Just like on that day, Doumeki had come to see him after graduation.

This time, instead of the grumpy question and response, Watanuki reacted the way he realized that he should have. Will you stay with me? and Thank you.

They kissed, inside his dream. Kissed in such a way that he was able to fully regret not making a wiser decision all those years ago.

When he woke up, Watanuki had the feeling that something bad was going to happen. He couldn’t explain what, or how he knew. He blamed it on his powers. Hitsuzen, Yuuko-san would say. Something was going to happen because it had to happen. After twenty years of heartache, his price was finally evened out.

Later that day, when Doumeki came over after work, Watanuki was waiting for him. He was sitting up on his lounge chair, the pipe left untouched and his expression carrying an underlying urgency despite the normal sober lines creasing his forehead and mouth.

As if understanding the gravity of the situation, Doumeki set aside his briefcase and knelt down on the floor. He held Watanuki’s gaze for a few seconds, before his eyes flickered down to stare intently at the boy’s collarbone.

“Something happened,” Watanuki said, able to read the subtle changes in expression after all this time.

Doumeki took a deep breath. “I’ve been given a transfer. A university up north has an opening and my advisors recommended me for the job.”

Feigning disinterest, Watanuki fiddled with the hem of his kimono. “How far away is it?”

“I said no,” Doumeki replied, a little more quickly than Watanuki had expected him to. It was as if he was trying to make an excuse. “At first, I said no.”

“When are you leaving?”

Doumeki looked hurt. The faintest of shadows flickered across his face, but Watanuki understood what that meant. “Tomorrow morning. I came to say goodbye.”

Watanuki could feel the words stab into his heart, and he resisted the urge to clutch at his chest. If Doumeki could play the “stoic bastard”, then so could he. Instead, he rose to his feet and cross the room with slow, stately steps.

Doumeki didn’t lift his head. Instead, he watched the pale, boyish legs flash in and out of the folds of the kimono as Watanuki approached. One of the fragile hands extended towards him, touched the side of his face, brushed through his hair as Watanuki knelt down in front of him.

“Then this is goodbye?” the boy asked.

“This is goodbye.”

“Over twenty years and you’re finally leaving my side,” Watanuki said. His voice was faint, strained, revealing the emotions that his face wouldn’t.

Doumeki was silent. “I’ll write.”

“No you won’t,” Watanuki replied, a bitter smile crossing his lips. “As soon as you leave, you’ll never be able to return.”

“What if I have a wish?”

Watanuki shook his head. “You won’t. You’re going to be perfectly content with your new life.” His voice trailed off to an even fainter volume. “Perfectly content…”

Doumeki grasped the cold hand that was pressed against the side of his face. He kissed the tips of the fingers, much like a knight would kiss the hand of his lord. “I have always looked out for you,” he said, his voice cracking. “I will continue, even if I can’t be with you.”

Watanuki hadn’t even noticed that they had been slowly drawing closer together until he could feel the faint rumble of Doumeki’s deep voice, shaking the air between them. The man’s breath was warm on his face, the unspoken tension pricking at their skin.

It took over twenty years for Watanuki to find out what he should have done.

“I have a wish that I want you to grant me,” he whispered, unable to keep up the cold façade any longer. His free hand was gripping Doumeki’s shoulder, the other still held in the large, warm hand. “Will you stay with me?”

“I can’t. You know I can’t.”

Well, it was worth a try. Hitsuzen. Events like the one twenty years ago would never be able to repeat. He had lost his chance back then. “Let me take the price. For that wish I was never able to grant,” Watanuki said. He pressed both hands against Doumeki’s cheeks.

The man caught on quickly. His own arms wrapped around Watanuki’s back, pulling him in closer still. The kiss started out slow and hesitant, then deepened as they struggled to make up for the lost years of being so near each other without touching. It was rough and clumsy, reflecting the innocent inexperience of both of them, and Doumeki’s desire to not hurt the young, fragile boy in his arms.

Suddenly, Doumeki pulled away and stood up. Broke the kiss too quickly. As he bent down to pick up his briefcase, he nuzzled the side of Watanuki’s head for a brief second, and whispered, “I will always love you. No matter what.”

And then he was gone, sliding the door shut behind him. After a brief silence, the front door slammed shut and Watanuki could feel the hole that had been ripped out.

“You shouldn’t have told me that,” he moaned, slumping into a hunch. “You’ve paid too much…” Watanuki knew that the shop will force him to suffer years of heartbreak in order to make up the difference.

Song Meme - Nano2007

2009-10-31T06:31:03Z

Title: Song Meme - Nano2007 version
Other: B-because I still don't have a title for it. Technically, one drabble is the story that takes place before the Nano07 story, and one takes place after it. Let me know if you want any of the songs 8D

1. Pick a character, pairing, or fandom you like.
2. Turn on your music player and put it on random/shuffle.
3. Write a drabble related to each song that plays. You only have the time frame of the song to finish the drabble; you start when the song starts, and stop when it's over. No lingering afterwards!
4. Do ten of these, then post them

Frank Sinatra – You Make Me Feel So Young

Ren covered his face with one hand, embarrassed by the girl’s behavior. “Raven—”

“Beryl! It’s Beryl, you know that,” she said, still investigating her new clothes with a childish fascination.

He reached out and grabbed onto her wrist with his other hand—missing the first time because he was still trying not to look. “Come on, you’re making a scene.”

Beryl trailed obediently along behind him, oblivious to all of the stares from the Hill Folk. After three years, she was back at the home she had forgotten. Following someone she didn’t know (or couldn’t remember), she couldn’t remember feeling happier in her life. “Thank you, Ren!”

“Don’t mention it,” he muttered, blushing.

Apocalyptica feat. Adam Gontier – I Don’t Care

“Do it,” she hissed into his ear. Aelies pushed up her own mask to watch Sam squirm on the ground beneath her. “Go on, it’s already in your very being. Don’t fight it—you’ll only hurt yourself more.”

“G-get off,” he panted, his voice muffled by the demon mask. “You’re overstepping your bounds.”

With a triumphant cry, the young woman pushed herself to her feet. “You see that, Sister?” she shouted, brandishing one fan at Ky. “The Deacon has returned to us! The Grave Robbers will take their place at the head of the Hill Folk where we belong!”

Ky shook her head, eyes wide and her stomach twisting every which into painful knots. “Stop it, Aelies. You’re lying.”

With his own painfully steady movements, Sam rolled onto his knees, unable to face the terrified girl. “No…”

Blink-182 – Anthem, pt 2

They started off at a walk, but the tension was building up in the air so much that it quickly turned into a jog, and from there into a dash down the side of the hill. Sam couldn’t quite explain just what this feeling was. There was nothing before them: An empty field, a stretch of the no-man’s land that Milo and his band did their best to defend.

To his left, Ren and Beryl; Ky was on his right. They were all running.

It wasn’t fear. It wasn’t apprehension. There was a positive feeling to this energy as they hit the flat ground and continued on at their heedless pace. There was excitement in the knowledge that the unknown was waiting.

Sam was sure that Milo would have laughed and encouraged them if they said anything about this. Niko would have scolded them. But there was no helping it. Four kids out for an adventure. The danger was only part of the surprise.

The Fray – Over My Head

Sam was feeling sick to his stomach. As he sat on the small bench, he clamped his hands around his ears and pressed down on the pressure points on them, hoping to quell the feeling. His heart was beating weirdly in his chest. Knocking too hard against his ribs, as if it was fluttering and struggling against a hand holding it down.

There was something he was forgetting. Why couldn’t he remember? Who was it. Who who who he just lost her who was it? He felt as if he had just gotten his memories back, but what had taken them away in the first place and what happened when he lost them he couldn’t remember.

But it made his entire body quiver and ache. “Whoever you are, I’m so sorry,” he said softly, surprised to feel tears. For some reason, the slick, uncomfortable feeling of the tears between his cheeks and palms was familiar—aided by the presence of the tall tree. But he couldn’t remember why.

Taniuchi Hideki – Misa no Theme B (from Death Note)

“She looks so pathetic like that…” Beryl whispered.

Ren didn’t reply at first, didn’t even look up from where he was worrying away at the string that was fraying on the hilt of his sword. “She’s heartbroken.”

The young woman at his side gave a frustrated growl and whipped around to face him. “You don’t think I know? I feel like I can still sense him some times, but I can’t tell her that. He doesn’t remember her any more… and she’s already in this state…”

Ren reached out to touch her shoulder, but Beryl immediately pulled back. “Don’t—” she said softly, looking to see if anyone noticed.

“Ky is hurting right now, Beryl. You’re the only one who can comfort her,” he said, returning to the string.

“Me?” she scoffed. “I’m lucky, compared to her.”

Lorenna McKennit – Cymbeline

“Tread softly,” Ky said, her voice barely above a faint breath.

Sam hesitated, then nodded to showed he understood. Still, despite his best efforts, he seemed to be so clumsy on his feet compared to her. “Where are we?” he asked, trying to keep his voice low like hers.

“A grave yard. Too close to the City Dwellers for comfort.” She looked at him over her shoulder, her eyes sympathetic. “I’m sorry if this makes you uncomfortable.”

“Why would it?”

Ky tilted her head to the side. Her expression was close to curiosity, but Sam knew better. “The demon whose bones were used for your mask is buried here. It’s a very hallowed space, but not exactly holy. But we still must respect it.”

At the mention of the mask, Sam could feel a wave of nausea. Still, he moved on with careful footsteps.

Mist filled the low valley, converting everything to greys and dark shadows. Even Ky’s hair lost the silver sheen it normally had. The boy thought he could hear a low sound from somewhere to their right—a humming or a crying. But he didn’t want to think about it. Unconsciously, he stepped up next to Ky and took her hand in his.

She glanced at him, but didn’t say anything. Merely squeezed his hand in return.

Jet – Shine On

Her head was bent towards the ground so he couldn’t see just what kind of expression she was making. “Ky…” he started, taking a few steps towards her.

Without looking up, she stumbled away from the others and fell into his arms. “I don’t want you to go,” she whispered. Her sobs were faint, but each one felt like the twist of a knife in his chest.

“I have to,” he said. “All those things that I’ve left behind me—they need me back.” Sam hugged her tightly, trying to keep his own tears in check. “It will be better for both of us if I don’t stay.” He had the sudden urge to kiss her again. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it, knowing that it would only hurt worse.

“Stay strong,” he whispered into her ear. He pressed his lips against her hair, then pulled away from her. “Good bye.”

Vega 4 – Life is Beautiful

Beryl was walking hand-in-hand with Ren, swinging their arms back and forth in a carefree manner with each step. She was humming to herself, inspecting the shops that lined the streets as they passed.

Ren trailed a few steps behind her, focusing on the back of her head without really acknowledging the fact that he was staring.

She glanced at him over her shoulder, stopped walking, and tugged on his hand so he noticed. “What are you thinking about?”

Startled, he returned her stare, though it took him a few seconds to return to the present. “I was just… You’ve been really cheerful lately. Ever since you came back from that man’s place, you’ve been listless. Even when you’re happy, you haven’t been truly happy.” Looking down at their hands, he trailed his thumb over her knuckles. “It’s because of Sam, isn’t it?”

Beryl frowned, stepping up close to him and kissing his nose. “Don’t be jealous, Ren. Because of you, I can be happy. It’s because of Sam that Ky can be happy. And that just makes me glad.”

Maki Kirioka – Beyond the Bounds (from Zone of the Enders)

Sam was on his knees, the sound of his breathing echoing back into his hears from inside the confines of the mask.

“Go on, Deacon. Kill her,” Aelies urged, unable to contain the gloating expression.

He winced, the muscles of his face pulling at the flesh that stuck to the mask. “Silence,” he barked, his voice dry and harsh. “Put your mask back on. You are to—STOP IT—you are to remain anonymous—” Sam’s voice broke through the voice of the mask with a sob, then both of them screamed out as he pushed himself into a hunched position. On unsteady feet, he stumbled over to where Ky had collapsed on the ground.

“Sam—!”

“Stop it!!” the boy shouted, his voice a strange mix of unfamiliar sounds. “No more, please… No more…”

“I said kill her!” Aelies shouted, her mask still pushed back on her head.

Saosin – Uphill Battle

Beryl and Sam set next to each other in silence, unable to say anything but not really needing to. “I didn’t think it would hurt so much,” he said, lifting one hand to clench the shirt he was wearing.

She didn’t reply—merely reached out and placed her hand on top of his head.

“I can feel them… all of them, struggling inside of me…” Sam doubled over and buried his face in his hands. “We’re too close to them.”

“I know. I’m sorry we have to put you through this. You’re still quite connected with the others.” She rubbed his back in a comforting motion.

Sam sat up suddenly. “Don’t say that. I know it bothers you, too. Being so close to me—I must be doing quite a number on your emotions.”

Beryl smiled, a little sad, and shook her head. “My connection has been growing weaker all the time. Since I’ve met you, it’s become even fainter still. I don’t think it will ever go away, but I can learn to ignore it.”

He rose to his feet, an uneasy sigh escaping his mouth as he began to pace. “I’ll need to give in… I just know I’ll have to. They’ll come for me.”

June 10th, 205 SD, 3:20 PM

2009-09-05T08:12:53Z

Title: Sine Die
Other: So I figured that I would post this here, and actually post it up on without_a_day when I polish it up. This is about as anonymous as I could keep it, narrator wise. I might revise it some more to give it even more secrecy as to who is speaking--because we wouldn't want to rule out Patrick! hurhur

PS This is supposed to be the beginning of the story in general. Depending on how I can get it to sound, I'll keep it there or figure out a better way to start it.

The date is June 10th, 205 SD. The time is… 3:20 PM.

APM Braun’s Lacryma follow-up: Start Recording.

The Program Manager’s plan for the game of Lacryma went through on Project ALICE’s June 9^th meeting. The game itself is scheduled to start at the end of this month. Patrick has already compiled a list of some six-hundred potential participants. Over the next twenty days, we are to observe these citizens in their daily lives in order to determine which of them will be fit to compete.

At this point in time, I wish to refrain from commenting further on the nature of this game called Lacryma. I will admit I’m not entirely too sure that Patrick’s plan will be a successful one. His personal assistant doesn’t say much of anything, and I’m beginning to wonder if he can even think of anything on his own. He’s fine following whoever has the most power. For my part, I am curious on how this will work. I am not quite convinced that advertising it as a game to let the people out of Eminence will be selling point.

Instead, I think it is the chance to allow them information. We here at Project ALICE keep the people ignorant of the true nature of things and, most importantly, of their ignorance. They do not live day to day wondering what kind of conspiracies we are creating behind the sealed doors. Just the opposite: They exist in their daily lives knowing that nothing is wrong and that they are members of a perfect utopian society.

By undoing their false knowledge, we will create this chance for truth. I suspect that many of the participants we select, and decide to remain in the game will be the ones that are curious to learn the facts. They will learn the reason of their imprisonment here in Eminence, they will learn things about each other and Project ALICE—and this is why I think the game will not work in the long run.

The president of ALICE is convinced that nothing of the sort will happen. The people will simply latch upon the chance for adventure and freedom, the ultimate prize offered by Lacryma. I fear that secrets will be discovered and the game will fall from our hands—but at the same time I am horribly fascinated by that prospect and almost wish for it to happen.

I will simply remain an observer. That is my assigned role, and I will stick to that role until the game is over. These voice recordings that I will keep will only be accessible by myself, and I will store in them the progress of the game as I follow it.

Until then.

Stop Recording.

May1st

2009-06-23T01:38:46Z

Title: May 1st
Fandom: Hetalia
Pairing: Sweden/Finland (Berwald/Tino)
Other: Requested by box_of_doom with the topic of same-sex marriages in Sweden being legalized on May 1st! I had fun writing this, though it was a bit hard ending it haha but I do love my Su-san so <333

Berwald always was a man of little words. In part, his speech pattern embarrassed him—it sounded so harsh and rattling deep in his throat compared to Tino’s ~~adorable~~ near-perfect pronunciation of the same words. Swedish wasn’t even his first language!

But asides from the fact that he felt like he butchered his own language, Berwald simply didn’t think what he had to say was important enough. Tino always had more interesting things to say, and he liked listening to the smaller man talk.

He looked down at the newspaper in his hands. How am I supposed to bring this up? (He always had perfect pronunciation and grammar in his head.) Tino always brushes aside the topic when I try to bring it up… Granted, he always brought things up in the wrong way. Trying to admit his feelings to Tino normally ended up along the lines of “m’wife”, which sounded more like a joke—and what it was always passed off as. But this… This he was serious about. Not that he was never not serious about it, but this was the culmination of all the seriousness he could muster.

With perfect timing as always, Tino bustled into the kitchen of their shared apartment, muttering to himself as he looked down at a list held in his hand. A basket of laundry was tucked under the other arm. Berwald sat in silence for a moment, enjoying the sight of the other man working. “’Ey, Tino,” he said, making a conscious effort to try and pronounce as much as possible.

“HIIIIIII!” he squealed, dropping the basket of laundry and whipping around with a panicked look on his face. In the same not so fluid movement, he plastered himself against the wall behind him. “Ah—ahh… hey, Buh-Berwald.” Tino pressed a hand against his chest, struggling to try and regain his composure and putting a very shaky, nervous smile on his face. “D-Do you need something?”

So cute, the taller man though, mouth twitching in the corner in his own attempt at an embarrassed look, but it only made the petrified expression on Tino’s face return. So he covered his mouth with one hand and held out the newspaper with the other.

Tino had flinched as the hand was extended towards him, but relaxed when he saw the newspaper. “What is this?” he asked, taking it and staring at the page.

Berwald began to scold himself the moment he handed over the newspaper. Just because Tino had a good grasp on the spoke language, he was still not too good at reading it. And so he was right back to his initial problem: How am I supposed to bring this up? “May f’rst…”

Tino nodded, gaze focused on the words in front of him. “Yes?” he prompted.

Pointing to a particular article with a finger (he tried to hide the rest of his hand because everything about him was too big when compared to the smaller man next to him, but that even included his fingers), he tried to say “Would you like to get married?” but it ended up more like “W’ cin get m’rried.”

Tino was silent for a long moment, trying to process what he could read of the article and what he could understand from Berwald’s statement. Then he jumped and dropped the newspaper. “Wait—what?!”

Carefully leaning over to pick up the paper, Berwald folded it so that the article was on top. “’F it’s a’right wi’ you?”

“Marriage?”

He nodded.

Tino looked at the article, noticing for the first time how creased the edges of the paper were from folding it into this position over and over again. “U-um well… this is all a little sudden…” Not that with Berwald constantly calling him “wife” could he really consider this ‘sudden’. He should have figured it would come to this sooner or later. But how to actually respond?! Hesitantly, he glanced up, only to look quickly back down again. Berwald had on his typical scary expression.

Berwald, on the other hand, was feeling quite anxious. When he noticed Tino’s tentative glance, he realized that maybe he was standing a little too close and took a few steps back. For good measure, he took another few steps back.

“Er… would it be possible if I hold on to this for a bit?” Tino held up the folded newspaper.

“S’re,” he muttered in response. He had wanted to hold on to it to hit himself with (he always was a fan of punishing himself for his stupidity), but there was no way he could deny Tino anything.

Smiling, the expression still a little shaky but honest enough that Berwald was able to look past the lingering anxiety in the action, Tino placed the newspaper on top of the laundry before picking the basket back up again. “Thanks.”

“S’ry—” he said before he could stop himself, glancing away guiltily as the smaller man looked at him in surprise.

Tino hesitated for a moment, trying to figure out what the apology was for, then blushed. “No, don’t worry about it.” His eyes turned down to the paper. “I promise I’ll give it proper consideration.” Without saying anything else, he hurried out of the kitchen, around his friend, and disappeared into his bedroom.

Berwald watched him go without saying anything—unable to figure out what words he could say without butchering them like always. Stupid stupid stupid! he scolded himself, not even noticing the small white dog dancing around his feet as he shuffled back towards his stool. He only hoped that things wouldn’t become too awkward around him and Tino after this—but still, he slumped forward, head against the counter, and figured he would be lucky if the little Finnish man would even talk to him after this.

He wasn’t too sure how long he sat slumped over like that, but the soft touch against his shoulder came as a surprise.

“Um, Berwald…?” Tino began.

“Hnn?” he grumbled, turning his head to stare at the small young man.

Tino immediately stiffened, a look of absolute terror crossing his face. “I’MSORRY I DIDN’T MEAN TO DISTURB YOU!” he cried, thrusting the newspaper back onto the counter and stumbling back a few paces. “Ijustwantedtosay—I mean that is to say—I wanted to tell you—IacceptyourofferI’msorry!!” With that, Tino darted out the front door.

Berwald sat in stunned silence for a moment. His brain had processed the two “I’m sorry”s, but did he hear that correctly? “I accept your offer”? The Swedish had been a bit jumbled, as it always was when Tino was stressed or scared or surprised.

The front door opened again and Tino’s head poked in with a look of guilt. “I-I’m going grocery shopping.” And then he was gone and the door closed once again.

Berwald’s stunned silence continued for a moment longer as he watched Hanatamago dance around excitedly on the floor. The poor little dog was probably confused. He leaned over and scooped up the dog in his big hands and held him in front of his face. “He said ‘yes’, d’n’t he?”

Hanatamago squirmed and tilted his head to the side.

Taking that as a “Yes, Berwald, Tino certainly did accept!”, he put the small dog down and smiled.

Mr. Snail

2009-05-20T23:11:08Z

Title: Mr. Snail
Other: This one is for starswing 's Sho+Shizuka request. The snail is the fault of Chelsie and Kia D:

He spent the day before he left for college with Shizuka. She had told him on the phone that she had something to give him, so instead of packing, he got on his bike and headed on over to the flood plains to see what she needed.

The small girl arrived shortly after he did, carrying a somewhat small plastic box. “Senpai!” she chimed when he sat up and waved at her from his spot on the hill. Balancing carefully, Shizuka wobbled down the slope to meet him. “Here, this is for you!” She held out the box.

Inside was a rather… giant snail.

Sho stiffened, his face dropping into a tight frown as a weird, queasy feeling crept down his spine. “What—”

“An African land snail!”

“………… It’s a giant snail.”

Shizuka peered up at him through the plastic sides of the box. “You don’t like snails…?

Her puppy eyes made his gut twist with guilt. “Well, snails this size would weird anyone out…”

She pouted, dropping down onto the grass and putting the box next to her. “I think it’s cute.”

He sat down next to her on the other side of the box. “Thank you.”

Shizuka looked away from the snail as she pet its head, a little startled. But her face broke out into a grin. “You’re welcome! He likes baths and cucumbers, but other than that he’s not hard to take care of.”

“…Baths?”

“Mmhm! You just need to hold him under the faucet as you run the water—just a small trickle, okay?” She reached into the box again and picked up the snail, holding it in the palm of her hand (it took up the entirety of her palm, to Sho’s uneasy surprise). “You might want to get him a bigger box when you move into your apartment.”

“He won’t like… attack me or anything while I sleep, will he?” Sho reached out one hand, hesitantly touching the snail’s head—only to pull back as the eye stalks twitched.

“No, they’re harmless,” Shizuka replied with a laugh. “But he will slime your homework if you get too friendly with other girls, okay, Senpai?!”

He let out a good-natured laugh at her embarrassed but determined face. “Alright. I’ll keep tha tin mind.”

Still doing her best to glare (too cute, Sho thought with a fond smile), the girl placed the snail carefully back into the plastic box. She then looked at her hand before holding it out to him with a delighted grin. “Hold my hand, Snepai!”

“Not the one that’s been snail’d!” he retorted, a little disturbed by the offer.

“Meanie.” Shizuka pouted, pulling her legs up to her chest and resting her chin on her knees.

Sho sighed, still smiling, and scooted closer to her, putting one arm around her shoulders and pulling her against his side. “I’ll take good care of him, I promise.”

She pouted up at him for a moment, but it didn’t last long. A smile took its place and she tucked her head against his shoulder. “You’ll bring him home with you when you visit, won’t you?”

He knew that the question wasn’t so much out of concern for the snail as it was a question of ensuring that he would come and visit. “Of course I will.”

“And he better be alive when I come visit you during Golden Week, okay?”

Sho looked down at the top of her head. “You’re going to visit me during Golden Week?” he asked, a little startled.

Shizuka gasped and sat up. “Ohno, I wasn’t supposed to tell you that it was going to be a surprise!” She let out a disappointed whine.

“Well, I appreciate the thought, but would your parents be okay with it?” He couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed.

“What do you mean?” she asked with an innocent expression.

Sho looked away for a moment, trying to find a way to word it without sounding too awkward. “Would your parents be okay with you staying at my apartment for a week—unless, of course, you planned on staying in a hotel?”

She shook her head. “I’ll be staying with you, Senpai!”

“Then—”

Shizuka gave a bright, cheerful smile. “My parents like you, Senpai. They trust you enough to know you won’t try anything~”

Sho didn’t know if that put tremendous pressure on his shoulders, or made him feel relieved.

“Besides, the snail would be watching!”

“…The what?” He had forgotten about the silent, slimy companion he had just received.

“The snail! Geez, Senpai, it is right here and I bet you forgot about it already!” Shizuka crossed her arms over her chest.

Guilty as charged, Sho sighed and leaned back on his elbows. “I’ll make sure he’ll survive until Golden Week, so that when you come to visit he can make me feel even more awkward.”

The girl grinned. “Good! It’s a promise, then!” She held out one hand (the non-snail’d one) with the pink extended.

He took the proffered pinky with his own, giving it a small shake before leaning in and giving her cheek a kiss. “C’mon, I’ll take you back to your house. I should get back and finish packing before my mom gets angry.” Sho gripped her hand and helped her to her feet. Then he picked up his bike, waiting for the girl to scoop up the snail’s plastic box before they wandered up the hill and back onto the road.

As he settled onto his bike seat, Shizuka waited silently at his side. “…Senpai…?” she asked as she slid onto the bike behind him, wrapping one arm around his waist, the other gripping the plastic box.

“Hmm…?”

She leaned against his back as he started pedaling. “You’ll call, right?”
“I will.”

“Every day?”

He laughed. “As often as I can.” She made a small sound in annoyance, but he laughed again. “You have to worry about school. You’ll be taking entrance exams this year. Don’t worry about me and the snail—I’ll call you enough so you won’t get lonely.”

Shiuka buried her face against his back. “I’ll miss you,” she muttered, her words nearly swallowed up.

“I’ll miss you too. Very much.”

She smiled. “Good boy. Mr. Snail is pleased.”

“Sho is not… Dammit, don’t take it out while I’m biking!”

Trip to the Zoo

2009-05-17T07:13:28Z

Title: Trip to the Zoo
Other: I won't really qualify this as a P4 fanfic, even though the characters are for a P4 roleplay xD;;; It's been awhile since I posted something here that wasn't for brigits_flame or world plotting hahaha Anyways, this is one of the requests I had received, this one from Jess *A* who wanted some Sho+Shizuka. There will be more of them when I do Kia's request *A*

“It’s too bad the others couldn’t come to the zoo with us, Senpai…” Shizuka looked down at her hands, willing them will all her strength to not break out into nervous fidgets. He didn’t look pleased, and the last thing she wanted was for him to take it out on her. “I’d been looking forward to this bit of student council bonding!”

Sho merely grunted in reply, glaring down at the text message from his vice president.

“Sorry Sho-kun. The twins and I can’t come today. Have fun with Shizuka-chan!”

He seriously doubted that the twins were even informed of the day’s zoo trip.

“Senpai…?”

“It’s nothing.” He offered her a smile and flipped his phone shut. “Shall we get going, then?”

“Home?!” she squeaked, eyes going wide with surprise and dismay.

“Into the zoo…?” Sho clarified slowly, inwardly scolding himself for making it a question.

Shizuka’s face brightened. “Oh! Yes! I want to see the zebras!”

“… The zebras?”

“Yes! And the koalas.”

“Ah—”

“And the lions, and the orangutans, and the giraffes…” She started counting off on her fingers. “The elephants and the zebras—oh wait, I already said that…”

Sho held up his hand, stopping the short girl before she could think about what else she wanted to visit. “We’ll get a map and you can circle everything you want to see.” He patted his pockets, checking to see if he had a pen.

Shizuka produced a pen from her bag and held it out to him, eyes shining. “Let’s go then, Senpai!” Still holding onto the pen with one hand, she grabbed his hand with her other and tugged him after her. “We’ll have lots to see~”

Sho suppressed a smile as he followed along. “We’ve got lots of time, don’t worry.”

After they bought their tickets and entered the park, they opened up their map and studied the key.

Shizuka started to put little stars next to the names of the animals she wanted to see, adding more stars next to some for importance. “What do you want to look at, Senpai?” By this point, she had stared almost all of the animals.

“I’m fine just seeing what you want to see,” he admitted honestly.

She looked shocked, pleased, and embarrassed all at the same time, a smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. “Oh. Are you sure?”

Sho nodded.

“You’re not just lying to make me happy, are you? Or to make me hurry up so we can just go see the animals? Or just so I’ll stop pestering you?”

He held up his hands in his defense. “No, I’m telling you the truth. I came to the zoo a few months ago with my sister so there’s nothing in particular that I must see.”

She still looked a little doubtful, casting her eyes down to the ground. “Then you probably won’t be having any fun, huh?”

He scolded himself for saying that as he sighed and shook his head. “That’s not what I mean. I’m sure I’ll enjoy it a lot more with you, anyways.”

The small girl glanced away, trying to hide her blush. “Really, Senpai—you say such embarrassing things!” All the same, she grinned and tucked the pen behind her ear. “Let’s get started, then!” Shizuka fished around in her bag for a moment, producing her camera (the very one that had been left on It’s A Small World after their three hours of ~~torture~~ being stranded and he had been guilt-tripped into going back to fetch it. Sho could only hope that there would not be a similar experience this time or he would be forced to call the camera cursed). Then she reached out and took his hand and pulled him along behind her as she dove into the crowds.

Worried that he would lose track of the small girl amongst all the people, Sho tightened his grip on her hand—her own fingers returning a small squeeze as well.

They emerged in front of the lion exhibit, still holding hands, and both with mixed expressions on their faces. Sho loosened his grip on her hand, a little hesitant if she would grasp it again or just dart off after seeing the lions. Shizuka was a little disappointed that she didn’t find the sesbras on the first try, but then realized that the map said they were on the other side of the park.

She slipped her hand out of Sho’s (suddenly a little conscious of it once he loosened his grip) and grasped her camera with both hands. Still, she stuck close to his side, grinning despite herself as she investigated the lounging lions through the camera screen. “Senpai! Look!” She pointed out at the habitat, actually indicating to a rock instead of the lions, as her gaze was focused on the camera screen. “There are two little cubs!”

“Hm? Where?” He leaned in closer to her, studying her camera.

Shizuka jumped at his sudden nearness, ducking her head to hide her embarrassment again (darn her cheeks! And darn Senpai, too!) “Right here.” She used her little finger to point at the two small shapes that paced in and out of view. “Aren’t they adorable? They have such big feet and they keep stumbling over each other!”

Sho smiled softly—refusing to admit that Shizuka might just be a littlemoreadoreablethanthoselioncubs—stop that, brain!! “They are,” he finally said, but probably a little too long for a reasonable pause.

But the girl didn’t seem to notice, as she was too busy taking pictures of the lions. “Alright, Senpai, let’s move on!” Shizuka studied the map for a moment, picked a direction, and started moving—this time without grabbing his hand.

With each display they went to, the conversation dwindled and the space between them widened slightly. He almost lost her at one point as she darted off to the next animal on her list without saying anything—until she remembered that he had the map and so she sheepishly returned to his side before the panic could set in.

They were almost done with the list when they stopped to get juice and snacks. Sho had left her sitting on a bench as he went to buy the drinks and snacks, mulling over several topics in his head as he stood in line and angrily arguing with himself over nothing. By the time he had made his purpose and began to return to Shizuka, he had put himself in a bad mood.

And so, when he saw four guys surrounding the small girl he had left sitting on the bench, he was beginning to feel really annoyed.

Shizuka looked distressed and flustered, not even noticing that he was coming towards the bench. He couldn’t quite hear what they were saying to her, but they were huddled way too close. Her hands were nervously fidgeting in the air between her and the guy who must have been their leader, signing out words that she couldn’t bring herself to say.

“Is something the matter?” Sho asked, his voice thin and tight. He came up behind Shizuka, putting a hand on her shoulder and glaring at the four men clustered before her.

“S-Senpai!” Shizuka gushed, twisting around to look up at him with a relieved expression. She jumped to her feet, rounding the bench and clinging to his arm, using him as a shield from the four.

He could feel her trembling behind him. “If you’re done harassing her, please leave.” Sho gave them an even glare over the rim of his glasses.

The four guys muttered under their breaths, shooting him dirty glances before turning around and wandering off.

The two of them stood that way for a moment, Shizuka still clinging to his arm and trying to stop trembling. Sho twisted around, taking her hands in his own and forcing her to sit down on the bench. “Here, drink this.” He put the can of warm milk in her hands, opening it for her before sitting down next to her. “Are you feeling okay?”

Shizuka didn’t reply, staring absently at her feet and taking a sip from the can. Then she slumped over and rested her head against his shoulder. “I want to go home.”

Startled, he looked down at the top of her head, unable to read her expression from this position. Did those guys make her that uncomfortable? Sho touched her hand. “Then finish drinking that and we’ll go catch the next train, okay?”

She tilted her head up to look at him, but didn’t sit up. “I’m sorry, Senpai. Today probably wasn’t that fun for you at all…”

He lifted an eyebrow, but smiled all the same. “As long as you had fun today, then it’s fine.”

Shizuka returned the smile, weak as it was. “I did—minus those guys… Do you wanna see the pictures I took?” Without waiting for an answer (even though he said ‘yes’), she dug through her bag with one hand and pulled out her camera. Still leaning against him, she held out the camera between the two of them and began to click through the pictures.

Brigit's Flame - May - Week #2: Morning Glory

2009-05-15T07:09:19Z

Title: Morning Glory (so unoriginal lol)
Theme: Morning Glory
Other: The fence by the apartment building next to mine has morning glories all across it. They're always so pretty as I bike past them in the morning. No editing needed.

            She hated the night. It wasn’t so much that she was afraid of the dark, but she just hated the night. She hated to have to go to sleep. Every evening it was the same.
            The pain that the darkness brought with it. The loneliness that came with setting of the sun. All of her friends went to sleep at the same time. She never knew if the night bothered them the way it bothered her. They never talked about the night. They always talked about the fresh morning and the sun and the times where there was no pain.
            But as the sky darkens, she cries as she curls up into a small bundle—as she folds in on herself to try and protect herself from the oncoming night even though she knows that it’s impossible.
            Every night it feels as if she’s dying.
            Dying with the setting of the sun, huddled in her soft bed that no longer feels comfortable, hoping that it would end quickly.
            And when the morning comes, it is all forgotten. The pain, the hatred, the fear, it is all gone. She stretches and opens up once more, turning her beautiful face towards the new sun. If she was dying every night, then she was born again every morning.

Brigit's Flame - May - Week #1: Aspirations

2009-05-09T07:10:53Z

Title: The Matter of Kingship
Theme: Aspirations
Other: Pffft I don't even know. And remember Sebastian back from October? (Was it really that long ago?) He has returned! I should have done it story style instead of this weird narrator style. Hmm. I still love the two of them hehe (should work on them more) Off-topic: Alexander Rybak has an adorable smile 8D

            When Sebastian was younger, he never put much thought into being a king. He had always thought about being something else. ‘Mad Scientist’ had a nice ring to it. He could be a mad scientist and still be a part of the Royal Family, right?
            And so he spent the first twelve years of his life dedicating himself to childish inventions. His father gave him a workshop and plenty of tools were at his disposal. He was a duke’s son, after all—even if he was aiming for the title Mad Scientist. His parents and the servants were nice enough to humor him.
            On his birthday, however, he was told that he could no longer aim for ‘Mad Scientist’, though it could be a hobby on the side. He was to be the Crown Prince—his Uncle Rupert had requested since he refused to get married and have a proper heir. And Uncle Rupert much preferred Sebastian, his beloved sister’s son, instead of his younger brother’s son.
            Sebastian then had to put a lot of thought into being king. Running a kingdom was hard work. But he still would work on his inventions, hoping that one day he would be good enough to see them in public use. As he grew up, ‘Mad Scientist’ became less of a priority for his future career, but he still kept the dream in the back of his mind.
            At twenty, he was told that he was engaged to be married. Uncle Rupert had a good friend who was the captain of the King’s Guard. His daughter, who had just turned nineteen, was already a well-known and prominent inventor; in fact, she was applying to enter the Royal League, which was a group of talented individuals whose specialties were in the sciences.
            Even before meeting her, Sebastian decided that he hated her. It didn’t help any that her name sounded like a boy’s (who names their daughter Noah, anyways?), and she had very unfeminine hobbies. But what he didn’t want to admit—out loud or even to himself—was that he was jealous of her for being able to pursue what she loved. Granted, over the eight years he was trained as crown prince, he had come to love the country and its people. Yet his one true love was still science.
            He would visit her workshop during his free time under the pretense of a princely obligation to his fiancée. And while she would work, he would distract himself by marveling at her inventions. Once they started warming up to the engagement, and to each other, Sebastian found that he had started to live his own dream through her. Noah let him help her with her projects, and in return she proved to be a level-headed companion who aided him in matters of the state (even if she did have a bit of a foul mouth).
            Sebastian realized that even if he wasn’t actively pursuing his childhood dream of becoming a ‘Mad Scientist’, having someone close to him follow a similar path made him feel just as successful. So in the mean time, he must concentrate on his current career as Crown Prince and put the thoughts and wants of his people first in his mind. No longer were his own dreams the most important: Now, his people’s dreams were his dreams.

Brigit's Flame - March - Week #3: Fire in their Eyes

2009-03-22T07:36:39Z

Title: none
Theme: Fire in their Eyes
Other: dammit I hate the ending my brain just left me. I should have started on this earlier DAMN PERSONA 4 FOR KEEPING ME DISTRACTED. Geh. Fixing formatting tomorrow yep.

It hurt. It hurt so much that he probably could have cried if he wasn’t too busy trying to keep himself conscious. “Roderick…You can’t honestly still be thinking that I would betray you, can you?” he said with a strained chuckle.

The dark-haired man smiled, but the gesture lacked any cheer. “Really, Liam… I’m surprised you’re still trying to struggle this much.” Roderick knelt down in front of the chair, gloved fingers playing over the broken skin on the other man’s face. “It must hurt, hmm?”

“I’ve had worse,” Liam said with a smirk, and they both knew he was lying. “Are we almost done here? I’ve got a meeting with the lieutenant in an hour. I think it’s supposed to be a date but she’s shy—you know how she is—” He let out a hiss of pain as the fingers dug into his wounds with a vicious jab.

Roderick’s smile shifted to return the smirk as he rose back to his feet. “I’m afraid I cannot allow you to leave until the investigation is over, Liam. You know how procedures work around here, even if you are a traitor.”

“For the last time—!” he shouted, wishing his legs were strong enough to support his weight. Instead, he tried to make himself appear as in control of himself as he possibly could. “I would never do that. I am loyal to The Order.”

“How could I possibly believe that you say to me now?” Roderick lamented, stroking his chin with three fingers. The gloves left a faint hint of blood across the ivory skin. “You disappear for three months and turn up in The Faction’s military headquarters with the King’s signet ring. You know he only gives those out to his most trusted advisors. How else are we supposed to act? Please—explain it to me if you’re so loyal!” On the last word, he backhanded the man glaring up at him from the chair.

Liam grunted in pain, spitting out blood and a broken tooth. “Shit, man,” he slurred. The world tipped and reeled around him, and it was only the fact that he was strapped into the chair that kept him from sprawling across the floor.

Roderick had the back of his hand that had slapped Liam pressed against his face. “I used to see you as such a good friend,” he cooed, using his other hand to adjust the glove. “I wonder what happened between us…”

“Asides from you torturing me under suspect of being a traitor?” Liam spat more blood on the ground by his feet. He saw that one ankle had swelled since the interrogation began.

Brushing a hand through his hair, Roderick stepped closer to the chair. He swiveled out of the way at the last moment, deciding instead to circle around behind it. “You’ve changed so much since you left us,” he whispered, sliding his hands over Liam’s shoulders and down his bare chest, fingers every bruise and laceration without even having to look.

He leaned his head back, eyes squinted shut and mouth twisted in pain. “You always were such a physical bastard,” he gasped, trying to ignore the fingers that wriggled into the wound on his stomach.

Roderick laughed. “Sweet with your words as always.” He cradled Liam’s head between his hands, smearing his own blood back onto his face. “Bring in the girl.”

“I think there is enough of me only left for you,” Liam teased, his voice wavering despite his best effort to keep it calm.

“She’s not here to play, so I’ll get your body all to myself for that,” Roderick returned. Leaving the meaning ambiguous, he stepped around the chair and strode calmly towards the front of the room as the door opened.

A small girl, no more than fourteen, was pushed into the cell quickly before the door slammed shut behind her.

“Melanie, I’d like you to meet my dearest friend, Liam. Liam here has been accused of treason to The Order. You’re going to help him get his honor back.” He guided the girl to the man in the chair with his hands placed firmly on her frail shoulders.

Liam looked from her placid face to the smug expression of the figure behind her. “So all I have to do is kill the wretch and I’ll be forgiven?!” he scoffed, head rolling limply on his shoulders as he looked around the room. “Where is my sword? I’ll be quick with it so I can go home.”

With an offended look, Roderick pulled Melanie into his protective embrace—though her expression didn’t change. “Liam, what you see before you is one of The Order’s leading Psy-Techs. I know it might come as a shock to you, but please remember that you abandoned us for three months and many changes were made in your absence.” He took his hands from her. “Melanie, please show Liam what you can do.”

Silently, the girl held out one hand, forefinger extended, and pointed at the spot directly between the man’s half-closed eyes.

As he stared at the tip of the finger, a mounting headache from the cross-eyed process adding to his long list of pains, Liam began to notice a faint flame playing across her skin. “Fire?”

“She really is quite the achievement. Melanie, please begin. Just like I showed you before.”

She nodded once, a curt motion, and began to slowly move her finger to the left side of Liam’s face. Then moved it slowly back across to the right side.

He looked away from the finger for a moment, giving Roderick a condescending look. “You go through the magnificent effort of torturing me, only to try and hypnotize me?”

“I do apologize for the anti-climatic ending, Liam. But in my defense, I will very much enjoy seeing you continue to suffer when we are finished here.”

Skeptical, the man looked from his companion to the faint flame moving back and forth across his line of vision. “You’ll actually let me go after this?”

Roderick nodded. “But you must simply allow us this small… experiment. You know me, Liam: A man of science. Just watch Melanie’s finger.”

The flame had grown brighter, pulling his attention back no matter how hard he tried to look away. Psy-Tech, huh? ‘A technician for using different forms of psychic abilities’, if I remember the proposal correctly. I wonder how much I’m being fucked over this time.

He continued to follow the path of the flame, watching as it grew brighter and brighter with each pass of her finger. It soon became almost blinding, but even still he could not look away. He did notice, however, that his body had stopped hurting. And he felt more stable than he had in weeks. Liam looked up to see Roderick giving him a genuine smile.

“That’s enough, Melanie,” Roderick said. The tone of his voice echoed how satisfied he looked as he observed the results of his experiment.

Even in the bright lights of the interrogation room, Liam’s eyes were cold and flat. Merely a trace of the girl’s fire was reflected within them.

“Now, Liam. One more time before I let you go: Did you betray The Order?”

“Yes, sir. I did.”

Brigit's Flame - March - Week #2: Happiness in a Bottle

2009-03-14T19:05:48Z

Title: And It Will Go Like This
Theme: Happiness in a Bottle
Other: The last week of school can be very hectic sometimes. And my wrists have been hurting orz Anyways, this turned out a bit different than I planned, but I've had The Book of Salt on the brain. Studying for French? What's that?

I had always believed that timeless saying—happiness is found at the bottom of a bottle. Was it at the bottom of an empty bottle? The place where you saw the wasted money and tried to decide if you wanted to regret spending another wad of cash only to reach the same conclusion at the bottom of the second empty bottle. Or the place where the dregs have all gathered, and the backwash and all the disgusting bits of the day you wanted to erase with the contents of the bottle, floating back up to greet you with a We’ll never leave you, Boss.

Or maybe it’s found at the bottom of a full bottle. The weight of the just opened spirit in your hand and you think that, maybe, by the time you reach those mythical, hidden depths at the bottom of the bottle, everything would make sense.

I don’t know how happiness could be found in backwash, nor in the covered mysteries, so I have been trying to stop drinking. It’s been five years—more than enough time to experiment and not-so-scientifically uncover the truth: Happiness is not found in any bottle. And it is most certainly not found on the wine racks in the super market, or in the expensive bottles of champagne half-hidden by ice (look here, they don’t even dare to reveal their bottoms out of embarrassment), or the cheap beer in a dingy bar where a hundred unfortunate souls before you have worn the barstool down. It is times like these where I feel like I really shouldn’t be drinking, when I can’t settle comfortably down into the barstool because too many other butts before mine have made it shaped to their own liking.

I used to be a singer. I would sing about love, or whatever my seventeen-year-old heart thought love was. My hit was in French. It went something like hmmm hmmm hmmmm… hahummm hmmm—Well, I never was that good at French. But I remember the English lyrics well enough. Happiness is with you happiness is with you the world would be nothing without you.

I wrote those songs before I knew the world. Before I knew women and before women knew of me—what was I singing about? The bottle? Many drunks try to come up to me now and sing my own song back to me in hopes that I might break out into drunken revelries with them. Somewhere along the way, there might be a number exchanged. Or a kiss. Maybe at least a drink. Or, well, lots of things really. I had written those songs before I knew women, but most certainly not before I knew men.

But that’s not the point any more. When you rise suddenly to fame at seventeen, there is little holding you back down. I am twenty-four now, and have since drunk enough spirits to keep my scrawny body rooted to the barstool that doesn’t belong to me for the next ten years. When you are seventeen and think you are in love, there is very little holding you down to Earth. So reality loves to play along and contradict everything you thought you knew.

So tonight I am finished. My head is still fuzzy, but five years can do that to you. Five years of trying to find happiness in a bottle, bottom or otherwise—empty or otherwise—can do that do you. I’ve had a new song in my head. Maybe it’s not too late to make a comeback. There was always someone who approached me as I tried to leave the bar. The same man over and over again, and I thought at first he was trying to get me to buy something.

“Mister Rose,” he would say. Mister? How formal. I’m still young; please don’t make me feel old on top of miserable and drunk. Besides, from the look of things, you are older and more miserable than I am. But, I notice, sober. One of the few in this room. “Mister Rose, a moment of your time.”

At first, I stopped to listen. I was young—I am young. My heart is still easily swayed. “Yes, sir,” I would reply. Would you like a number? Or a kiss? Or maybe a drink? Sorry, I’m sated for tonight, so you’ll have to settle for one of the other two.

Maybe I should mention that since last week, he hasn’t been at the bar, and it was then that I started writing again.

“Mister Rose, I used to be a big fan of yours. My daughter, too, loved your music.” He said this to me every time and yet I always hoped he would ask for a number or a kiss. He was a very handsome man. “If there is any way I could help you—”

But then I would shake my head and smile sadly and say that I had all the help I needed and you seemed to understand what I meant. Maybe he stopped coming to the bar because I had started leaving earlier. I started leaving less drunk and more like how a normal person should be.

It has been five years since I’ve written a song. Since I’ve sung in front of an audience and since I’ve been motivated to do much of anything—five whole years trying to find out just where happiness was hiding in a bottle.

I’ve had a new song in my head. It will go something like this: Laadidideedaaaa Hummmlaaa hummlaaaa laadidideedeeedididaaaa. It will be called Happiness is found at the bottom of a bottle and it will be about you, Handsome Sir, because I started to realize that the only happiness I could find at the bottom of that dark green glass was when I was leaving the bar. Too drunk to have any more, I would leave, and you would approach me. I will leave out the bit about how you have a daughter, because when someone is in love, they tend to ignore the small details.

And maybe, after you hear my song and you remember me and how you used to wait for me at the bottom of my bottle, we would share a drink together. My happiness would come from the first sip shared with you, to the last, when more than a number or a kiss would be exchanged.

Brigit's Flame - March - Week #1: The Devil's in the Details

2009-03-07T02:46:24Z

Title: 32.5
Theme: The Devil's in the details
Other: I really want to draw Carly. And I didn't end up changing their names lol I like 'Carly' and 'Simon' way too much for them. But not only does Carly hate Death, she also hates his cousin, His Majesty the Devil. And she also apparently hates His Majesty's secretary. FYI: They're both reapers. Like, grim reaper kind of reapers. Well, in-training reapers in any case.

Carly wanted a soda.

“We don’t have time for this…” Simon sighed, knowing that she wouldn’t listen to him anyways. He rubbed the back of his neck, fingers playing with the loose strands of his pale blonde hair that had escaped from the ponytail.

“Hmmm they’re out of that strawberry soda that I like…” she mused, bending over to inspect the selections in the vending machine. “Hey, what kind should I get?” Carly waved her hand absently behind her, trying to get her partner’s attention without turning away from the machine. “Maybe… orange?”

He sighed again. “We have to get a move on, you know. There’s been an outbreak in Sector Four and we’re needed for back up.” His eyes followed a line of ants scurry across the ground by his feet. “Besides, we could use the chance to gather more spirits.”

The girl straightened her posture, looking at him with a frown. “Sector Four belongs to Damon and Kevin, doesn’t it?”

“It does.”

She sniffed in disdain and looked away. “I hate them. I hope they get run over by those spirits. Then we can arrive on the scene, tragically just barely too late to save our fellow Reapers.” Carly planted one hand on her chest and dramatized a half-sob. “As a consolation for our brave efforts, we’ll be given Sector Four. They probably have strawberry soda there.”

Simon stood up as well, clamping his hand down on her shoulder before she could return to the vending machine. “We still need to gather the spirits. His Majesty isn’t happy with our current progress.”

“His Majesty,” Carly mocked, wriggling under his grasp but unable to break free. “Ow, that hurt!” she said, smacking away his hand after he tweaked her ear. “How many more spirits do we need anyways?”

“Three hundred and twenty-five,” he replied, keeping one hand on her shoulder as they walked down the sidewalk.

She locked her hands behind her back and hummed in thought. “Let’s aim for thirty-two point five!”

Simon looked down at the top of her head. “Where did you get that number from? And how do you get ‘point five’ of a spirit?”

Carly grinned, and her partner inwardly groaned. It was the grin of a plan that would get him in trouble.

“An average between the two of us! You know, how those humans always aspire towards ‘two point five kids, a dog, and a white picket fence’? Let’s see… twice that amount is sixty-five… so together, we just need to get sixty-five spirits and then we divide it by two to get an average and when we turn in the paper work we just say that we got thirty-two point five!”

“That’s not getting us closer to our goal,” Simon said. “Wouldn’t it just be better to say we got sixty-five spirits?”

Carly waggled a finger in his face. “Tsk tsk tsk! Didn’t you know? His Majesty the Devil is far-sighted. And dyslexic. And he hates wearing glasses. So if we were to write down thirty-two point five, it would look like three hundred and twenty-five! He won’t notice if we just kind of… gloss over the little details.” She looked very proud of herself for coming up with that kind of plan. “What do those humans say? The Devil’s in the details or something like that?”

“You do know that it isn’t His Majesty that looks over the team reports, right?” Simon said, letting go of his partner’s shoulder in order to rub both sides of his head.

The girl froze in her spot, blue eyes going wide in horror. “He isn’t?”

He glanced back at her. “No. It’s his secretary. You really don’t think he could be bothered with reading all the team reports, do you?”

Carly plastered a smile on her face, but it was strained and clearly announced that she had not known. “Ah… Haha… Ahaha….Ahah—OH MY GOD. So that’s why she hates me…” She trained off and put a hand to her chin while staring at the cement under her feet. “I always thought she just hated me because I was young and pretty…”

Simon rolled his eyes up to the sky, sighed, and looked at Carly. “Really. You thought that she hated you for that reason?”

She ignored his comment. “So really… it’s more like the Devil’s secretary is in the details… isn’t it?”

He nodded.

“Well. Hmm… Well. SHIT.” Carly stomped her foot, the flat black shoe making an odd slapping noise. “I guess that means we really have to go to Sector Four… The next check is in three days…”

“I guess it does,” Simon agreed.

World Construction //Mwyr

2009-02-24T08:05:34Z

Title: Mwyr
Other: Character profiles! All the important characters (that are alive) lol I changed them quite a bit from the originals, though some of their personalities remain the same. Ages shifted all across the board. Actually, I think Chan stayed the same age. Chan and Cairo did. Everyone else changed lol

Arika O’Connor – 20 years

- Straight dark brown hair that reaches shoulders, fringe-cut bangs just past eyebrows

- Bright, rich blue eyes

- Father: Charles O’Connor

- Rather short for her age, Arika often gets defensive about her height. She believes very much in creating her own path, especially as she is constantly surrounded by the past while on site. She gets frightened easily and doesn’t like scary movies or stories. She doesn’t do well under pressure—having suffered a minor freak-out session during the end of her freshman year in college. She used to have a crush on Jon when she was about 15, but is pretty sure she is over it. While on Mwyr, she hates being addressed as ‘Goddess’, and hates it even more when Loki starts treating her as such. The idea that she is a reincarnation makes her very upset, because she hates being controlled.

Jon Dawson – 25 years

- Short black hair that is flat against his head

- Slightly narrowed dark hazel eyes; wears thin-rim glasses

- Brother: Philip Dawson; uncle: Chris Legoya

- Borders on rather tall and somewhat skinny. Jon is very serious for his age, and the lines are starting to show on his face (something Arika and Philip like to tease him about). He’s very dedicated to his work, and is going o his sixth year working for Charles’ company. He’s quick with a smile and a light-hearted jest, but it isn’t his natural expression. He seems to lighten up around Arika, seeing her as more of a little sister (and preferring her as family to his own brother).

Philip Dawson – 21 years

- Rather short, pale-blonde hair that always has the semblance of being perfectly style at one point, but has since fought back

- Hard brown eyes that are narrowed in annoyance most of the time. He wears wire-framed glasses—is far-sighted.

- Brother: Jon Dawson; uncle: Chris Legoya

- Takes his work far more seriously than his brother, although he has a less serious position to hold. He is a bit shorter than Jon, but has a better physique from fencing. He walks with perfect posture and a royal personality to match. Smug, sarcastic, and used to making things work in his favor, Philip carries an unpleasant reputation around the team. Despite that, he is very dedicated and does some of the best work, especially as a junior member of the team. Unlike Arika, he works well under pressure (or any sort of circumstance, really), and so the team allows that to make up for his personality. He’s considerably nicer to Arika, though still rather intolerable. He hasn’t quite grown out of the juvenile phase of picking on and teasing her, though if he actually likes her remains uncertain.

Chan – 25 years

- A bright mess of red-orange hair

- Kind, mellow green eyes that seem too old for him

- Adopted; brother: Loki; sister: Tallah (deceased)

- Chan had been running on almost-empty for nearly two years, ever since the avatar failed to appear after his sister’s death. Despite that, he did his best to remain optimistic and always put forth a lot of effort into maintaining the farm. He was very protective of Tallah, and tries to shift the same attitude onto Arika—and so it troubles him when she acts so differently and has a different attitude towards things, especially sera. He’s honest and humble, preferring not to say something if he thinks it will upset someone—unless it really needs to be said. Chan is tall and broad-shouldered, his muscles toned from years of hard labor.

Sera – 21 years

- Uneven, shaggy layers of blonde hair—highlighted undertones

- Tawny/honey-brown eyes that are bright with energy

- Father: Tyn (mayor), Mother, 7 younger siblings (3 boys, 4 girls)

- A wiry and rather awkward-looking fellow; has long limbs and stands with a slight hunch of his shoulders when nervous, uneasy, or just lazy. His face always has some form of a smile—almost always lopsided. Despite being the mayor’s son, Sera took on a carefree life style that often involved a few “runaway” attempts. He’s very good at keeping secrets and is extremely faithful to those close to him. His devotion and attraction towards Arika has nothing to do with the fact that she looks like Tallah, though it did make it awkward at first. He’s far from religious (though not scientific like Loki), and so he tried to use the ‘Goddess’ title on Arika to find a way to accept the difference.

Loki – 24 years

- Long, pin-straight white-blonde hair

- Narrow, amber-gold eyes

- Adopted; brother: Chan; sister: Tallah (deceased)

- Always rather indifferent to everything, Loki’s narrow eyes are supported by equally knife-like features—high cheekbones, pointed chin, thin lips. He’s not as tall as his adoptive brother or Sera, but he is lean and quick. He adored his sister very much and was very upset when it was announced that she had become “the victim of the Goddess’ selfish whims”. He was never a religious man, relying more on science and the new field of alchemy.

Adder – 21 years

- Dark brown hair cut close to his skull

- Bright green eyes

- Family N/A

- Rather skinny and looks a little malnourished; he has dark bags under his eyes that make the green stand out even more. He’s very jumpy and always appears a little uneasy of his surroundings, but has a personable smile that makes people like and trust him. He doesn’t quite respect Loki, but follows him so that he may achieve his own goals. More religious than he lets on, Adder believes that it is his Holy duty to help usher in the new Depression.

Mina – 17 years

- Long, thick chestnut hair, always in a braid

- Round, soft brown eyes

- Brother: Mica (twin)

- Despite being several years younger than Arika, Mina is taller than her by two inches. She’s an average weight and a not-too-fit build. Her cheeks still hold onto their childish plumpness, aided by her love for sweet things. Like her brother, she has a lazy way of speaking—which came from the clan of gypsies they were born into. She’s very cheerful and loves to gossip, and looks up to Arika as an older sister. She’s very attached to her brother, and she often gets homesick. She develops a crush on Cairo almost immediately after joining Arika, and is not very subtle about it despite her best efforts to be so.

Mica – 17 years

- Longish chestnut hair, held back from his face with a headband.

- Soft brown eyes that hold a mischievous glint

- Sister: Mina (twin)

- He’s a bit shorter than Sera, and probably a bit healthier in his weight. His arms are well-built from years of doing archery, and he enjoys showing off with push-ups (although he often looses to Chan and Cairo). He’s not entirely over-protective of his sister, but he cares for her deeply and rarely makes a decision without talking it over with her. He becomes Sera’s accomplice and partner-in-crime shortly after joining Arika. Despite the age difference, he shares a similar sense of humor with Sera and the two love to joke around.

Taen – 19 years; Sir Taen of Raeq, 13^th Master of the House and Heir to the Throne

- Dark red-auburn hair, left to grow untamed; pulled in a loose ponytail at the back of his neck

- Covers his eyes with bandages to hide the scar; they are a grey-blue, but have been sealed shut due to the scar

- Sister (deceased)

- Extremely mild-mannered, Taen prefers to sit back and not interfere with an argument. He’ll insert his thoughts and opinions when asked, or when he knows they’re needed, but doesn’t speak more than necessary. He’s protective of Arika, as he is the only one who can tell how she is feeling at all times, although Sera is beginning to pick up on it. Taen watches over her when the others are not near or she is sick. She confides him in the most, because of this fact. He’s the voice of reason in the group, and often settles arguments and acts as Arika’s voice when she cannot contribute her own opinion. Sera is a bit jealous over their bond, but tries to accept it .

Cairo – 25 years

- Neatly maintained black hair

- Deep blue-black eyes; heavy lids but a serious gaze

- Family N/A

- Cairo is tall and well built, nearly identical to Chan in size. He has been training and working as a mercenary or a guard since the age of ten. He served in the castle of Raeq for five years prior to Loki’s attack, and continues to stay by Taen’s side after they were reunited half a year later. He’s faithful and well-mannered, though he still has a bit of a rough edge from his mercenary up-bringing. At first glance, he seems to be a stoic young man, but he’s quick with a dry come-back or a faint smirk, though he appears to be the straight-man when against Mica. He’s a bit unsure how to receive Mina’s feelings, as in his eyes she’s still a young girl.

Cassia – 23 years

- Curly, elbow-length honey-blonde hair

- Deep green eyes that have faint hints of grey (“dusty”)

- Mother: Nai; father: Terrik

- Acts a bit younger than her age, but she does it mostly to flirt with guys. She grew up with Chan and Loki and Tallah, treating all of them like a second family. She adored to baby Tallah, but got jealous of Chan’s attention to his sister and not her. She has a sunny disposition but gets frequent mood-swings—the results of which she only shows to Loki. Especially after he asked her to work with him, she began to trust him a bit more despite her previous feelings for Chan. However, like Adder, she’s more religious than she lets on, which leads to her eventual falling-out with Loki

In this Space

2009-02-21T22:35:22Z

Title: In this Space
Fandom: xxxHOLIC
Character/Pairing: Haruka+Watanuki, Doumeki+Watanuki
Other: Written for iniquitous with the prompt "someone write harukaxwatanuki with jealous doumeki". I hope you like! It's nearly 8 pages omg the longest thing I've written in awhile (fiction wise lol) and I wrote it really fast, too. More like... it kind of wrote itself for most of it. Un-beta'd so feel free to point out any mistakes! Enjoy~~

Obligatory use of Douwata icon 8D

“Ah, Haruka-san… Good evening.”

“Good evening, Watanuki-kun.” The older man smiled faintly, glancing at the boy at his side without even really taking into account that he was there.

“I didn’t realize I had fallen asleep…” Watanuki muttered to himself.

“Coming into a dream isn’t all just about the sleeping world and the waking world, you know,” Haruka replied sagely.

Watanuki frowned down at his hands that were folded in his lap. He was wearing his pajamas. Sleeping world. So cryptic. Just like Yuuko.

The man was silent for a moment, taking the chance to breathe in the scent of the cherry blossoms before he fixed his attention on the boy. “How is Shizuka?”

This time, Watanuki’s frown was childish and embarrassed, even though he couldn’t guess why. “Annoying as always. Asking me to make all kinds of unreasonable dishes, and then insulting my pride and my skill when I refuse.”

“So you make them?”

“Of course I make them!” Watanuki retorted, slamming his hands onto the wooden walkway. He huffed, and crossed his arms over his chest. “Really, Haruka-san, it sounds like you doubt me also.”

Haruka laughed gently, one hand holding the still-burning cigarette away from his lap. “Of course not. I am quite certain that Watanuki-kun is very skilled at cooking.”

The boy’s scowl wavered, then shifted into an easy and pleased smile. “Thank you very much, Haruka-san.” He wondered briefly if Doumeki would be able to smile like that.

----

…Eh? And so what if that lout could actually show emotion. Despite their looks, he’s nothing like his grandfather. COMPLETELY. Nothing. Alike.

… Not really…

----

Jealousy, envy. Written in Japanese as 嫉妬. Romanized as “shitto”. Shi-tto.

Doumeki wonders briefly what the individual characters mean but realizes he is too lazy to try and figure it out. He also wonders if it would be possible to change around the character for ‘shi’ to make it mean something else. Maybe he would use the ‘shi’ in his own name.

Shi-zu-ka.

Shi-tto.

No good, his name was written as one character anyways. Maybe he could use ‘shi’ like ‘四’ and then he could find away to connect it to Watanuki.

Wa-ta-nu-ki! Written like April 1^st. He could hear the black little creature chiming so loudly that he had to look around and make sure there was no one else there.

What other characters could he use to connect “shitto”—jealousy—to what he was feeling? And to whom it was regarding? No… It wasn’t worth the effort.

Besides, it wasn’t good to know that he was jealous of his own grandfather, either.

Ha-ru-ka.

Shi-zu-ka.

They weren’t that different in pronunciation if you thought about it.

Pointless… he told himself, and closed the text document as the bell signaled the end of lunch.

----

As much as I love my grandfather, hearing so much about him from a person who’s never met him makes me… a bit annoyed.

Shi-zu-ka… Ha-ru-ka… If he could say one, the least he could do would be to try saying the other.

----

“Watanuki-kun has been smiling a lot lately.”

“Ah—have I really?” The boy paused as he handed out the levels of the bento. “It’s because I’m around Himawari-chan!”

Doumeki gave a faint snort that said Liar.

“YOU HAVE A PROBLEM WITH HIMAWARI-CHAN?!” Watanuki demanded, wheeling around and swinging a hand aimed for the chopsticks in Doumeki’s grip.

He pulled back just in time, placing the rolled egg in his mouth while eyeing what to try next. “No,” Doumeki said honestly around the mouth-full of food.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full!” Watanuki replied automatically.

Himawari giggled as she accepted her portion of the bento from Watanuki. “Watanuki-kun and Doumeki-kun are such good friends!”

“WHO IS?”

----

Smiling too much? Since when did I not smile too much when I’m around Himawari-chan?

----

“Such a stupid look,” Doumeki muttered.

“No stupider than yours,” Watanuki shot back. They were walking back after school.

“Kunogi-san isn’t around. You can stop that stupid grin.”

The boy’s mismatched eyes shot him a death glare that didn’t have the same effect as it did before without the thin frames to magnify it. “I can’t help it if I’m in a good mood! H-Himawari-chan will always raise my spirits… even when she’s not around!”

Doumeki arched an eyebrow but didn’t face Watanuki. “Liar.” This time he didn’t even try to hide it in a snort.

“W-what?” But Watanuki didn’t even seem that eager to try and defend his own position. His smile faltered and he attempted an angry scowl.

Doumeki knew his facial expressions well enough by this point to know that he had been right. “I said you’re a liar. You’re not thinking about Kunogi-san.” Now, he did glance down at the boy by his side.

Watanuki huffed, hunching his shoulders the way a bird would ruffle its feathers when flustered. “I’ve just been having nice dreams lately, for a change. Haruka-san—”

That was more than enough.

With a roughness that he had meant to curb, Doumeki shoved the empty bento box back into Watanuki’s hands and turned away. “See you tomorrow,” he said.

“Wait, Doumeki!” Watanuki stuttered, standing still in the middle of the cross-road.

Doumeki was glad he couldn’t see his expression, because it would ruin the image he wanted to keep in his head.

----

Surprised but disappointed. Maybe a little hurt or at least show in some way he acknowledged what made me leave. Maybe if he looked at me like that—

----

“What’s wrong, Watanuki-kun?”

The boy looked up to see a face that was too similar to the one he didn’t want to see right now. “I think Doumeki’s mad at me.”

The corners of Haruka’s eyes crinkled with the faint hint of a smile. “What makes you think that?”

“I-I’m not sure… I can just tell. His face doesn’t look any more emotionless than it normally does, but I can tell.” His expression was troubled as he leaned across towards the man. “A-and… I guess… It kind of bothers me…”

Haruka leaned in as well, inspecting the boy’s face. “Shizuka is just trying to sort some things out,” he said.

Watanuki tilted his head to the side. “You can enter my dreams, Haruka-san. Can you enter Doumeki’s as well?”

Haruka lifted an eyebrow in a way that made Watanuki thing He looks too much like Doumeki. “I can, when Shizuka wants to see me.”

“Then… right now—”

“Shizuka doesn’t want to see me.” He sat back up straight and returned his attention to the shadows playing across the grass. It was the signal that the conversation was over.

Watanuki didn’t move. He remained leaning across the space between them, staring at Haruka. Surprised and somewhat upset.

----

I wonder if… if I ask you… would you listen to my request? Or would you just smile and confuse me even more.

----

Jealousy was such an ugly word. The characters were too complex. A complex and ugly word for a complex and ugly feeling.

Doumeki didn’t dream often. Occasionally, he would want to see his grandfather—for advice, for a familiar comfort. But right now, it bothered him to think that it was his grandfather that was causing the uneasy feeling and the need for assurance.

He was lying awake. Two in the morning and he couldn’t sleep. For once his dreamless sleep bothered him. Was Watanuki dreaming now? Was his grandfather accompanying him? Did Watanuki let his grandfather call him ‘Kimihiro’? Did they talk about him?

He rolled over onto his side, glaring at his fist in the dark. He could just barely see his school bag against the wall. No good. School brought to mind things he didn’t want to think about.

He rolled over onto his other side. Nothing there. But then his stomach gave an uncharacteristic growl and Doumeki knew he couldn’t win.

So he turned back over to stare at the ceiling. The boring pattern of sleeplessness visible in the darkness above him.

“Kimihiro,” he said, trying the name out of curiosity. He wondered how it sounded when his grandfather said it (because he had managed to convince himself without even realizing it that the two of them were on a first-name basis. With a smile like that, Watanuki would let them be on a first-name basis).

“Kimihiro,” he tried again, mustering unfamiliar emotions and putting on the carefree smile he remembered his grandfather having. No, too forced. He would never be able to make it sound like his grandfather could.

“Kimihiro.” This time, his eyes were closed and the name caught in his throat in a way that made him ache.

Jealousy. Shi-tto. Written with ‘四’ out of spite.

----

If I tried, would he let me? If I asked, would he try? ‘Haruka Haruka Haruka’—just once, could you try something else?

----

“I thought I had heard someone calling my name…”

You didn’t answer, did you?

“Right.”

If so, it’s all right.

“With that sort of thing, why mustn’t I answer?”

Because if it knew that you noticed, it’d do it more and more.

“… But… For me to not answer even if they’re calling…”

Saddens you?

“Yeah…”

Then, you must answer.

“Eh?”

Riiiing.

This is a dream. You know that, don’t you?

Riiiing.

I wonder if after me you’ll meet yet someone else in your dreams.

Riiiing.

You’ll meet various people, all in dreams. As though in a final goodbye.

Riiiing.

Riii————

......Don’t disappear.

----

Doumeki was feeling uneasy. Seeing his grandfather in that form made it feel like he was looking at himself in an alternate dimension… one where he was happy and able to talk to that person freely.

“I was beginning to wonder when you would let me see you again, Shizuka,” Haruka said with a smile.

The young man turned his head away, then slowly looked back. “Seems like you’ve been visiting with Watanuki a lot, lately.”

“Watanuki-kun has wanted to see me a lot, lately,” Haruka corrected.

Doumeki felt annoyed and relieved at the same time. “Why?”

His grandfather sat down on the walkway, staying silent for a while to concentrate on the smoke rising from his cigarette. “Many things have been troubling him.” He looked at the young man beside him. “Wouldn’t Watanuki-kun explain it to you if you asked?”

Doumeki didn’t respond.

Haruka chuckled. “Sorry, I didn’t know that was a touchy subject for you.”

“Unfair.”

“Hmm?”

“It’s unfair,” Doumeki muttered. He clenched his hands together in his lap, hoping it would squash the uneasy ache rising in his chest. It didn’t, but he kept trying. “I’m doing all I can to keep him in the world, but he’s much more content being with you in a dream.”

Haruka tapped the dead ashes from the cigarette. “You call it a dream, but the space that Watanuki-kun lets me share with him is a world also.” He studied his grandson’s profile. “This space that we share now is another world, also.”

Doumeki didn’t respond. Not at first. Instead, he shifted as his shoulders slumped. His head dropped into his hands. “I want to be the one he wants to share a space with.”

“Even if it’s a dream… If you have beliefs, wishes, desires, things you love… Those will become reality. The only transaction that doesn’t require a price… is the transaction of feelings.”

Doumeki looked up sharply, but his grandfather wasn’t there.

----

“Haruka-san?”

“Hmm?”

Watanuki had one hand clenched over his chest. His expression was troubled, and he had a hard time forming his words. “I feel upset.”

Haruka put out the cigarette on the ground, crushing it with his foot. “Why?”

The boy paused, then shook his head. “I don’t really know. But every time I go to sleep… I feel like someone is calling me. And they are sad that I don’t answer. And their voice is so filled with emotion that I can’t help but feel sad.”

“Why don’t you answer?”

Watanuki shook his head again, a little more violently this time. “I can’t!” he shouted into his lap. “Because if I answer… then I feel like something will be lost! And I can’t afford to lose anything else right now!”

Haruka let out a breath through his nose, a look of pity on his face. He reached out a hand, gently lacing his fingers around Watanuki’s.

The boy looked over at him, startled and flustered, only to find that the man was leaning in close—too close, but he couldn’t push him away. “Ha-Haruka…san…”

Haruka’s face was placid, save for the faintest hint of a pained smile on his lips. He squeezed Watanuki’s hand tightly in his own. “Do they call you Watanuki?”

Speechless, he shook his head.

“Then… Kimihiro?” He lifted his other hand to touch the side of the boy’s face.

Watanuki closed his eyes and his body relaxed. He pressed his cheek into Haruka’s hand and tried to ignore the smell of cigarettes. When it was like this, he felt like he could calm down.

“Kimihiro…”

Watanuki didn’t bother to wipe the tears that slipped down his cheeks. “I’m here…”

“Will you stay with me?”

“I will.”

----

I’m sorry for not replying sooner.

I wonder if I’ll be able to see you again. Before I go.

----

That day, Watanuki didn’t make lunch.

Doumeki watched him from over the edge of the cafeteria-bought bento. The boy was leaning against the tree, the barely-touched box lunch on the ground next to him. His mis-matched eyes stared off absently up into the branches shifting above him.

“Watanuki-kun has been acting weird all day,” Himawari confided in a troubled tone as she knelt next to Doumeki. “No one seems to notice him, and he’s not paying attention to anything either.”

Doumeki set down his already-consumed bento and pointed his chopsticks at Watanuki. “Oi.”

The boy’s eyes flickered slightly in acknowledgement, and he blinked.

“Oi.”

This time, Watanuki looked at him, his head flopping on his neck like a poorly made stuffed doll whose head was too heavy. His eyes were narrowed slightly in the corners, but other than that he didn’t respond.

“Are you going to eat that?”

Visibly frustrated, the most emotion he made all day as far as Doumeki knew, the boy rose to his feet, grabbed his school bag, and left.

Himawari made to run after him, but Doumeki shook his head. “Don’t bother. He doesn’t want to be here.”

He was only slightly aware of the double meaning behind those words.

----

I won’t forgive you. If I refuse to respond, will you stay?

----

Watanuki was lying on his back, staring up at the pale canopy of the bed he occupied while staying at Yuuko’s house. He was being called. Again and again. But he was also being warned.

Don’t disappear.

Whatever choice he made, he had a lot riding on the right choice.

He took a deep breath, closing his eyes. He wondered how it would sound if he said it. It was only a name after all.

Right?

“Sh…”

Try again.

My heart won’t stop pounding.

“Sh—”

Almost. Try again.

It hurts… My heart hurts, but I don’t mind.

“Shi—”

“Ha.”

“Huh?” Watanuki sat up, only to find Haruka sitting on the edge of his bed with the relaxed smile on his face.

“Ha-ru-ka,” the man said, pointing to himself. “Have you made your choice?”

Watanuki hesitated, then smiled. He closed his eyes and relaxed as Haruka’s arms pulled him into a secure embrace.

----

I’m sorry…

Shizuka.

----

“I don’t forgive you, Kimihiro.” He didn’t look, but he could hear the boy shifting in the bed and his bare feet hitting the floor.

“I was right, then…”

Doumeki looked at Watanuki over his shoulder.

“I made the right choice?”

Doumeki shrugged, looking back out to the dark garden. “If it’s the choice you made, then it can only be the right one.”

He knew Watanuki was frowning without even having to look.

The boy sat down on the walkway next to him. Close enough so the sleeves of their shirts brushed against each other, close enough so he could feel the heat from Watanuki’s skin, but not so close where they could touch without making a conscious motion. “Is this a dream, then?” He sounded troubled.

“I suppose. Though a dream is just another world, isn’t it?” That’s what his grandfather kept saying.

Watanuki smiled faintly. “I suppose it is.”

Doumeki hesitated, trying to pick the right words. “Will you stay with me?” The phrase was too clichéd—he had repeated it over and over again in his head at night, holding the boy in his arms.

“I will,” Watanuki replied. “In this space… And in the others that I share with you. I will stay.”

Doumeki took Watanuki’s hand in his own, pressing their palms together and gripping his fingers tightly. “Good.”

----

I won’t let you disappear.

Brigit's Flame - February - Week #1: Beat//"Tuesday Afternoon"

2009-02-06T05:08:45Z

Title: Tuesday Afternoon
Theme: Beat//Tuesday Afternoon by The Moody Blues
Other: No classes were actually cut during the actual event.

ps I did use "beat" as a prompter, as you might be able to tell, but I mostly took the idea from the lyrics of the song :D

ps2 After reading too much Alias Grace, I wanted to play with present tense! Please tell me if there are any slips! I was originally writing it in past tense and slipping into present, so I might have slipped once I switched it all over to present.
---------

We cut class on Tuesday afternoon to go to the beach.

It’s January, but she wants to go to the beach. “Why the beach?” I ask her. “We live right on the beach and you make it seem like such a special occasion.”

She only glances at me over her shoulder, winking her blue eyes playfully as she keeps her position several paces in front of me. “Would you believe me if I told you none of my friends here actually like the beach? We live right on the beach and yet none of them like it.”

I don’t believe her but I don’t tell her so. “But why the beach?”

She stops and whirls around to face me. She is at the bottom of the stairs, black boots way out of place on the pale sand, and crosses her arms over her chest. “Because the beach is good for settling your thoughts and clearing your mind.” Her cheeks are puffed out and she glares at me.

For someone who is almost twenty-one, she’s remarkably childish. I wonder, and not for the first time, if she really is three years older than me or if we’re not really just the same age after all.

Shuffling her feet under my even stare, she deflates and pulls the brim of her hat down over her eyes. “We’ve both been a little confused lately. The rhythm of the ocean will calm our nerves.”

No, she is older than I am. Sometimes I wonder how I could confuse her for anything other than the adult she is. “Or something like that,” I reply after pause.

She giggles and lets her arms fall back to her side, a smile flashing across her face before she turns away from me. “Or something like that.” She holds out a hand to steady herself as she begins to take off her boots and socks.

I kick off my sandals and look up at the sky. It may be January, but it’s certainly hard to tell. Temperatures are nearing eighty degrees, not a cloud in the blue blue sky. I find myself thinking how if the sky was only a bit greyer, it would look like the color of her eyes. Something I shouldn’t be thinking about.

“I thought you said the beach would help us clear our thoughts,” I call after her.

She is already down at the water line, camera in hand, and jeans rolled up to her knees. She either doesn’t hear me or pretends not to. “The water is so cooooold!” she squeals, dancing around in the retreating wave. “C’mon, play with me!” The camera is held out in front of her and I am too late to realize that she took a picture of my confused face.

Reluctantly, I join her on the wet sand with my hands in my pockets, and stare down at our bare feet as our toes wriggle in the silt. She only gasps in surprise as the next wave laps around her ankles, but I jump back and try to fend off the approaching water by kicking sand at it.

Her arms are hugged to her chest as she continues to perform her off-beat dance, the Psyduck dangling from her camera swinging wildly around in an effort to keep tempo.

I’m not listening to the voice of reason that’s shouting frantically “No! No! Abort mission!” in my head as I catch her in my arms and hold her against me. For a moment, it feels like “this is how it’s supposed to be”.

But then she wriggles out of my grasp and I try to block out her gentle scolding by listening to the roar and crash of the waves instead. “Ah-ah-ahhh. Silly boy. You can’t do that. You still have a girlfriend to think about.” She smiles understandingly, but I can tell that she wishes she had simply stayed still. She turns away and lifts the camera to capture the bluffs and a stoic sea-bird in the frame.

“My thoughts aren’t getting cleared,” I tell her. I almost feel like I’m accusing her, and the look she gives me lets me know that she thinks I am putting the blame on her.

“You’re not letting them,” she tells me.

She’s right, but I want to beat back the logic and reason she throws in my face, so I pull her in my arms again and don’t let her wriggle out this time. “It’s just a hug,” I explain and she laughs, knowing it’s a terrible excuse.

“Just a hug,” she lies and puts her arms around my neck and we don’t want to let go.

World Construction // Mwyr

2009-01-09T02:37:29Z

Title: Mwyr
Other: This is actually just the history of the religion basics, mostly for my reference. Basically, brief history of Mary's visits, explanation of the other three girls was glossed over, and got to a few details surrounding Arika's visit. I still have a lot more to do with building the world, but I think I'm going to switch to characters next :D Might... contain spoilers lawl

History of Religion

- World created by Mary

- First visit was some time later after she wrote the original version down in her notebook

- Physical version of the Goddess—not an avatar like the following three: it was her own body, no sacrifice to have her body ‘sacrificed’

- People came to her; she stayed with those who found her

o Later, a small group formed around her, and escorted her until she was able to return to her home safely

§ They continued to bless the faithful

- She returned several years later in the middle of a war

o Several of her original friends had been killed, prisoned, etc.

o Past!Loki is the one who finds her—he’s bad, but she doesn’t know ‘cause the others are kept away from her

§ He plans on using her to stop the war in his favor (as religious zealot) while the others wanted it to return to normal

o However, Past!Adder kills her in the church because he believes she must be sacrificed in order for the war to stop

o Past!Loki’s followers were called ‘True Children’ but after Mary’s murder, they were cursed and because the Ti’Corrah. They began to be called ‘Renegade Children’ or ‘Fallen Children’ and later generations said that they had actually been angels that returned with Mary on her second visit and were cursed for misusing her powers.

- World was then plunged into a religious depression. Prayers from the faithful, even the surviving original attendants, were unable to do anything

o This lasted for about 200 years

o A group who continued to be faithful and do deeds in the name of the absent goddess noticed that their prayers were having more and more of an effect

o A rush of followers converting back over to religion was termed “The Second Conversion” (subsequent conversions were called “Third/Fourth/Fifth”)

§ The arrival of the avatar was termed ‘Coming’ and by the fourth, they had been expecting it (timed how long the Depression lasted)

· Deliberate sacrifice of the third avatar in order to usher in the Fourth Coming after an experimental murder of the second

§ Arika’s arrival was delayed, and Loki/Ti’Corrah had started a revolution earlier (normally, the war was started after her visit just before her sacrifice); this is because this time, the avatar took her form from his sister

- The amount of time after Tallah’s death lead Chan and the others to believe that it was just a coincidence that she had died at the same time as the avatar was expected to appear

o It is discovered later that, while it wasn’t a coincidence, Arika is not an ‘avatar’ but a ‘reincarnation’ of the original Goddess; because Tallah was so close in appearance/behavior and strong in faith, she was originally supposed to be used as the ‘avatar’ but the order was messed up. Thus, she had to leave Mwyr so that Arika(Mary) could return

o Some believed that it was due to Loki’s magic, others thought it was because “maybe the counting had been off and it was just coincidence before” that the arrival of the goddess’ avatar was delayed

§ It all lead to doubt, which others later (after the Fifth Coming) believed to be the actual cause: Doubt in her return caused the Goddess to hesitate

Chinese Story // Sample Three

2008-12-24T21:32:20Z

Title: N/A
Other: Hmmm I use their names quite a bit :/ ahaha Let's see... Meng had just fought a rather powerful evil spirit (mogui), and Yun had jumped in to try and save him. But the mogui was able to control his movements and forced him to cut the back of Meng's knees. And then they went to Meng's family home where Jun tried to heal him the best she could and here we are!

            Yun’Xu wouldn’t let go of his hand.
            “I’m fine,” Meng would try to argue weakly, but the young man remained at his side.
            “It’s my fault you’re like this,” he would say in return, but the monk would shake his head and smile.
            “You saved me.” Meng clasped Yun’s hand between both of his own. “The mogui would have killed me.” He closed his eyes and he pulled his hands away. “Don’t blame yourself for this.”
            Yun looked at the boy’s legs. “You cannot walk still.”
            Meng shook his head. “Jun said it would fade with time. I will just have to remain in bed until I am better.”
            The young man reached out, smoothing his fingers over the side of Meng’s knee. “It’s my fault you cannot walk. When I cut you, I forced some of my own ch’i into your body.” He gingerly traced the scars on the back of the knee, not noticing the shiver it caused the boy. “While it stopped most of the blood from flowing out, it also stopped the nerves I cut from reconnecting…”
            Meng regarded him curiously. “Then you know a way to reverse it?”
            Yun paused, then nodded. “It would hurt, though.” The look in his eyes said the last thing he wanted to do was cause Meng more pain.
            The monk chuckled. “At least I would be able to walk again. I’ll be able to deal with the pain.”
            Hesitant, Yun lifted Meng’s left leg from the bed and he slid onto the mattress in its place. He leaned down, placing two soft kisses against the skin before his fangs sunk in.
            Meng gasped, squirmed, and stifled a cry of pain. One hand shoved at Yun’s shoulder, but the young man didn’t shift. He was starting to feel light-headed, and there was a tingling of pins and needles in his left foot. “What did you do?” Meng muttered, his hand falling limply back onto the bed.
            “You forget that my mother was a fox spirit. Like the yaojing, they steal away their victim’s ch’i. But we can also force our own ch’i into or from someone.” Yun sounded exhausted. He placed Meng’s leg back onto the bed next to the other, but remained sitting on the mattress. “Try moving your leg.” Yun reached out and took the boy’s hand in his own.
            The monk lifted his leg from the bed, bent it, and wriggled his foot about in the air. “It works again!” he said, a delighted smile crossing his face. He let his leg drop back down and he squeezed Yun’s hand. “Thank you very much.”
            He shook his head. “It was the least I can do. But hold still for a moment before I free the other leg.” Yun reached out his free hand and tangled it through Meng’s hair, his fingers curling around the back of his head.
            Meng’s breath caught in his throat, causing him to panic for a moment before he felt warm breath against his lips. “W-what are you doing?” he asked, his voice trembling too much for it to be much of a serious question.
            “I accidentally removed some of your own ch’i—I’m giving it back to you,” Yun breathed.
            It sounded a little like a lie, but he couldn’t bring himself to care what the truth might have been. Without thinking, he tilted his head back slightly.
            Yun’Xu took the unspoken invitation, catching Meng’s lips with his own in a deep, desperate kiss.
            Meng had stopped thinking a long time ago. His arms folded around Yun’s neck, and the young man’s arms wrapped around his waist and shoulders. He wasn’t sure when he had started kissing back, but the only thing on his mind now was the faint taste as it slowly filled his senses.
            The Huanguan are supposed to be free of bodily desires… Your feelings had been dormant until your body had been awakened to the feeling that kind of contact brings.
            Meng jerked away, roughly shoving Yun as he fell back onto the bed. He was breathing hard, unable to meet the young man’s confused gaze. “Leave me,” he commanded, wiping his mouth with the back of one hand.
            The taste was still there.
            “Meng…” Yun started, reaching out a hand to pull the one away from the boy’s mouth, but he was knocked aside.
            “I said leave me!” the monk shouted, waving his hand angrily at the door across the room. “Leave before I banish you from me!”
            Yun’Xu rose to his feet, taking a few trembling steps away from the bed. He tried to speak, but Meng refused to look at him. “Of course, Master…” he mumbled, leaving the room as quickly as he could.

Chinese Story // Sample Two

2008-12-24T21:25:12Z

Title: N/A
Other: Sample part two! Some more background info: Meng is 17, and Yun is 22.

            The dreams had been getting worse.
            At first, Meng would just wake up to feel a little strange and not remember anything about the dream, except that was when the uneasiness around Yun began. Then there were fleeting memories—the burning touch of skin, the soft lips whispering into his ear. The discomfort grew, though Meng did his best not to show it around his companion.
            Only ten days had passed since he was attacked by Lu Wei when the memories of the dreams became clearer. The mouth that was pressed against his throat belonged to a face, and the hands that touched him belonged to a body.
            Yun’Xu’s.
            Not fully understanding, except finally realizing the source of his unconscious embarrassment around the young man, Meng headed to one of the nearest temples to seek advice. The priestess responded the best she could to his ambiguous and flustered questions. She said that the dreams had most likely been caused because of Yun’Xu’s presence as he was being attacked. Lu Wei’s actions had been a shocking experience, and Meng was ashamed that his friend at to see him like that.
            The best thing to do would be meditate on the dreams and the memories of the experience and cast out the negative effects. Then the dreams should stop.
            And so he tried.
            But instead of stopping, the dreams only got worse. They plagued his nights when he tried to sleep, and during waking hours, every time he closed his eyes there was a flash of skin, the feeling of fingers caressing his chest.
            Meditation was impossible.
            Meng sat with the heels of his palms pressed against his eyes until little stars appeared in the darkness. They only illuminated the images plaguing his mind.
            A twig snapped behind him and his body immediately tensed. Yun’Xu had done that on purpose to alert the monk of his presence.
            Meng looked up, studying his companion’s back as the young man silently set down the wood for a fire. “I think it would be best if you left me,” he said.
            Yun paused, and looked over his shoulder. Without saying anything, he abandoned what he was doing and crossed back the way he had just come.
            The monk reached out and grabbed onto his wrist as he passed him. “I mean… I think it would be best if we no longer travel together.” Slowly, he tilted his head back and stared up at him.
            Yun’Xu’s face darkened, and he was struggling to keep his expression placid. “Who will protect you, Master?”
            Meng shook his head. “It would be better if we went our separate ways.”
            “Better for whom?” Yun snapped back, letting his emotions take over as he twisted his arm around to grab Meng’s wrist instead. “What do you think you are protecting yourself from?!”
            But then his gripped slacked and he pressed his lips into a thin line.
            Meng knew that Yun’Xu had just realized the answer.
            “If that is what you wish, Master, then I will leave you.” He pulled away and began to gather his belongings. The young man paused before he left the small camp, not looking down at the kneeling figure at his side. “If you ever find that you need me again, summon me without delay.” He slipped his demon-bone mask over his face and took a few steps away when Meng’s trembling voice stopped him.
            “How could I do that?”
            Yun looked at him over his shoulder, his eyes cold behind the mask. “The same way you summon all of your other faithful demon servants.”
            When Meng was sure that there was enough distance between them, he doubled over and cried out in frustration.
            “That was a splendid performance.”
            “Be gone, you filthy spirit,” he muttered into his lap.
            Cold fingers played across the back of his neck, slipping around the side of his face to touch his cheek and forehead. The aura’s wavelength was so similar to Yun’Xu’s that, if he didn’t know any better, Meng would have thought that he had returned.
            “Is that what you really wanted?” the spirit cooed, her voice close to his ear. “Dreams aren’t something to be ignored you know.”
            “What do you know of my dreams?” he returned, lifting his head and straightening his posture. “Now, leave me be before I am forced to seal you.”
            She laughed, the sound sharp and barking. “I could kill you, boy. I wonder, would you swallow your pride and call to my son for help…?” Her long, slender fingers wrapped around his neck from behind, slowly cutting off his air supply.
            “What do I care about your son?” Meng asked, remaining calm against the pressure.
            “He was very serious when he said he would return to you if you summoned him.” She sighed and stroked his hair absently with one hand while the other remained around his throat. “Yun’Xu is such a good boy. He must get it from his father.”
            His eyes widened and his heart jumped into his throat—the only problem being that she had quite a solid grip around his throat and he nearly choked on his surprise.
            She laughed again, thoroughly amused as she twisted around to hover in front of him and force him back onto the ground. “Do it. Call for his help. Your dreams aren’t something you can get rid of by pushing him away.”
            Meng struggled slightly, fumbling for his prayer beads. “Y-Yue-shu!” he shouted, knocking her off the moment the command hit her. It wasn’t a strong as it should have been; he had let his emotions affect his spell.
            The spirit cried out as she was bound. “Bastard!”
            He rolled to his feet, holding the beads in one hand out towards her. “Now answer me: Do you wish for me to seal you or will you be content to simply leaving me alone?”
            Her angry growl turned into a sensuous laugh. “You are a fool, Longzhou Bu’Meng,” she spat at him, but continued to laugh. “The Huanguan are supposed to be free of bodily desires, or so they preach, but not you…” She struggled up onto her knees, the binding spell wearing off. “Your feelings had been dormant until your body had been awakened to the feeling that kind of contact brings.”
            Meng’s hands trembled. He took a step back, but she crawled closer on her knees.
            “Your body has had a taste of the rexue, Bu’Meng. It will only be worse without Yun’Xu by your side.” She threw her head back and laughed.
            “Gechu!”
            The spirit was gone. The forest was silent. And Meng sunk back to his knees and cried into his lap.

Chinese Story // Sample 1

2008-12-24T21:20:01Z

Title: N/A
Other: These three samples go in chronological order! And because I don't say it in this part, Meng is a eunuch, so his voice and appearance are very feminine.

            Meng sat in the middle of the room, his legs folded up underneath him and his eyes closed in meditation.
            “It’s the wife, isn’t it?”
            He didn’t bother asking Yun’Xu how he had entered his room—didn’t need to ask because the young man wouldn’t have told him anyways. But he wasn’t surprised at the sudden voice (he had, in fact, been expecting it). “It is,” Meng replied softly.
            The demon-bone mask was pushed away from his face, and flat black eyes regarded the kneeling figure. “You are going to speak to Lu Wei?”
            “I am.”
            “You think he’ll listen?”
            Meng looked up at his traveling companion. Yun was resting in the doorway, letting the pale moonlight spill into the otherwise dark room. “No. You’ll be there to protect me, right?”
            Yun blinked, then looked out at the garden, away from the monk. “Of course, Master.”
            Smiling, Meng rose to his feet and brushed off his robes. “Look at what he gave me to wear,” he said, waving a small hand at the clothes on the bed.
            Yun’Xu tilted his head slightly to look at the clothes with an uninterested expression. He blinked and the shadow of a frown darkened the corners of his eyes. “Women’s clothing?”
            “A dress,” the monk confirmed. He folded his hands in front of him, tucking them into the loose sleeves of his habit.
            Yun rose to his feet as well, carefully coming up behind Meng. “Lu Wei is a dangerous man,” he warned. “I feel uneasy about letting you speak to him in private.”
            Meng turned his gaze up to the young man. “It’s not something I can discuss with his wife in the room. She’s a yaojing—he needs to be alerted so I can deal with her while he’s in safety.” He glanced back at the dress on the bed.
            “Perhaps it may be better if I deal with her first and then we explain it afterwards,” Yun’Xu said. “I don’t trust this man, Master.”
            The monk closed his eyes. “We will do as we planned earlier. I am capable of fending for myself, and you will always be there for me if anything should happen.” He rested a hand on Yun’s arm, smiled, and stepped away. “It is time to go.”
            The young man stood silently by the bed for a moment longer. “He does not pose the kind of threat you developed a defense for,” he muttered to himself. Hoping that he was wrong, Yun followed noiselessly behind his master out of the room and down the dark halls.
            When they arrived outside of the door to Lu Wei’s study, Meng gave his companion a nod.
            Yun melted into the shadows and was gone.
            Taking a deep breath, Meng knocked politely on the door’s wooden frame.
            “Enter.”
            He slid open the door and slipped inside. “Thank you for taking the time to meet me,” the monk said humbly, bowing his head after he closed the door behind him. “It is a very important matter I wish to discuss with you.”
            Lu Wei was leaning back in his chair, regarding the boy with hard eyes. “You’re not wearing the clothes I had prepared for you,” he said, a thin smile twisting the corners of his lips.
            Meng bowed again, keeping his head lowered to avoid looking at the smile. “My apologies, my lord. I cannot accept more than the hospitality you have given me. It would be silly for me to dress up in such expensive clothes when I—” His voice died in his throat as he felt the man’s presence come closer.
            “My pretty little Bu’Meng, those clothes suit you so much better than your monk’s robes.” His feet appeared in Meng’s line of vision, and he could feel the man’s hot breath on the back of his neck.
            It wasn’t until Lu Wei’s hand touched the side of his face that Meng realized he was trembling. The fingers that grasped his chin forced him to turn his face up, to look at the man in front of him.
            Lu Wei was still smiling, his eyes studying Meng’s frail form. “Such a beautiful face for a boy. I bet you make girls jealous.”
            “My lord, I wish that you would not make such comments about my physical appearance.” He lifted his hand to politely push away the one that held him, but Lu Wei grabbed his wrist.
            “I wonder if the rest of your body is as beautiful as your face,” the man cooed, leaning in close to kiss the side of Meng’s neck. His hand dropped from the monk’s cheek and slipped under the yellow-and-earth-colored robes on his shoulder. Lu Wei grunted upon discovering the bandages that were wrapped around his chest. “Why, what is this? Are you really a girl pretending to be a boy?” he teased in a low voice, his hand roving down the bandaged chest and pushing the habit aside greedily.
            Meng struggled against his hold, trying to pull away as he was forced against the man’s low table. “Unhand me!” he shouted, panic rising in his voice. He had been trained how to defend himself, but his mind was scrambling to recall anything that could help him. “Release me this instant!”
            Lu Wei chuckled, the sound rumbling deep in his throat. Meng could feel it vibrate against his neck as the man continued to kiss him. “You look and sound just like a frightened little girl,” he growled, giving a thrust of his hips as he pushed the squirming boy’s back against the table. “It’s hard to believe that you are a man as you claim to be.” He had pushed off most of the habit, easily keeping Meng’s arms pinned above his head with one hand. His mouth was eagerly exploring the expanse of marble-white skin on the monk’s collarbone.
            Everything stopped so suddenly that it took Meng a few seconds to process the fact. Slowly, Lu Wei’s hands drew away and the man whimpered.
            Yun’Xu had one of his dual swords against the offender’s neck, forcing him away from the shaking boy on the table. He had the demon-bone mask pulled down over his face. “You’re lucky I won’t kill you for that, pig,” he spat, shoving the man away and placing himself protectively in front of Meng. “Are you alright, Master?” He sheathed the sword and turned to face him.
            The monk’s hands were trembling so much that he was having difficulty pulling his robes back into place. “I—I… No. Yes… I’ll be fine, thank you.”
            Yun stepped closer, reaching out his hands. “Let me help you.”
            Meng flinched unconsciously, surprising them both. “I’m sorry, I’ll be fine,” he muttered, willing his hands to calm as he adjusted his clothes.
            Lu Wei had been reduced to a trembling pile on the floor behind them. “T-The Demon Assassin, Yu-Yun’Xu!” he moaned, covering his head with his hands. “Such a spirit serves you—I had no idea.”
            Yun snarled, taking a few angry steps towards the man on the floor. “You had no right to attack my master that way.”
            Meng darted in between the approaching young man and the figure on the floor. “Yun’Xu, don’t. He will be punished in due time for what he has done, but I do not wish to see you harm anyone.” He clutched the front of his robes as he briefly glanced at Lu Wei over his shoulder. “My lord, I have come here to inform you that your wife is a yaoling. If she is left alone, she will continue killing travelers and soon she will turn on you. I cannot proceed to seal her unless you give me permission—as she is your wife.”
            The monk stepped towards the door, Yun close behind him. “However, I do not wish to see your face right now,” he said before Lu Wei had a chance to speak. “You have disgusted me and betrayed me far worse than you can imagine. If you are lucky, I might consider helping you tomorrow.” Meng slid open the door and stepped out into the hall. Before the young man at his side could close it, he turned around and regarded Lu Wei coldly. “If not, I will leave you here to be consumed by her lust as you tried to take me."

World Construction // Chinese Story

2008-12-24T21:10:59Z

Title: N/A
Other: Not so much world construction (though I really should go create all of that), so I might call this construction pt 1 haha this is mostly things I will be using. Names and commands have the way the name is written with accents for pronunciation, and then how I will use them in the story, while everything else is just a romanization of the characters without tonal inflections. I kind of took extreme liberties with the characters for the names. And I know... that's not how you write moonlight. But I wanted it to match with sunlight ;;; Also, I didn't fill in the details on what the spirits I selected were, so sorry about that, and they will come later!

Zhou Dynasty – looked to Tian (“heaven”) as a god

Jade emperor – principal deity in daoism who rules heaven: Yu Huang

Aim to control mental process

SHAMANS – Yakut;

Guan-Yin: Goddess of compassion (观音)

The Ba Xian (八仙)
Shou Lao – writes down the life-span of people. (寿烙) life branded (onto forehead)
Zhang Guolao – powerful necromancer with a donkey that folded up small (瘴馘牢) Miasma/cut off the left ear of the slain/sacrifice
Li Teiguai – soul traveled between bodies (离慝怪) leave/evil thought/demon
He Xiangu – patron of unmarried girls (吓嫌姑) intimidate/ill-will/nun (mother-in-law)
Cao Guojiu – patron of nobility (草椁柩) strewn grass over the outer coffin of the dead
Han Xiang – traveling minstrel (憨响) naïve sound
Lu Dongbin – considered a scholar and guardian of ink makers (录东彬) well-bread master of the records
Lan Caihe – Either effeminate man or a woman; attends to the needs of beggars (兰踩褐) trampled brown lily

Bajang

Barong

Abaasy

Bota Ili – minus the marriage bit

Chiyou – minus the head (螭黝) hornless black dragon (hornless dragon & black)

Guei

Lei Gong – et lizard child (雷攻) thunder attack

Men Shen (门神) door guardians/gods

Nagas

Oni – steal souls of people who are about to die; hunt down souls of sinners. Some were once mortal women whose jealousy or grief transformed them into demons; source of sin and misfortune

Fangchang – inhabited by dragons (方场) Place of power

Polong

San Qing Daozu (三清道组) 3 pure groups (paths/people)

Shen Nong – god of health and medicine (神农) God of Farming

Yamato-no-orochi

Taiyi Tainzun (T’ai-I T’ien-tsun)

Tengri – 54 good natured in the east, 45 bad natured in the west

Tengu

Vizi-Ember, Vizi-anya, Vizi-leany

Xi Wang-mu – demons of the plague and epidemics; human face, teeth of a tiger, and a leopards tale. “Jade girls” and 3-legged birds as servants (西王母) Western Lord-Mother

CHARACTERS –
Lóngzhou (龙舟) family (Dragon Boat)
Bùmèng (歩夢) (Bu’Meng) (Ayumu) (Walking Dream)
Jùn (隽) (Jun) (Eminent)
Fenglì (锋利) (Feng-li) (Incisive/poignant)
Tiānbiān (天边) (Tian-Bian) (Troops under heaven)
Měifēng (美风) (Mei’Feng) (Beautiful wind)
Wēishèng (微圣) (Wei Sheng) (Tiny Sage)

Yŭnxū (殒虚) (Yun’Xu) (Death in Emptiness)

Lùwēi (路威) (Lu Wei) (Journey to impressive power)
Báilín (白林) (Bai Lin) (White forest)

COMMANDS –
Shìfàng (释放) (Shi-fang) (release)
Fēngsuŏ (封锁) (feng-suo) (seal)
Guān (关) (guan) (lock) // guānyā (关押) (guan-ya) (put in prison/lock up)
Shuài (率) (shuai) (command)
Yuēshù (约束) (yue-shu) (bind)
Zhào (召) (zhao) (call together/summon)
Cítuì (辞退) (citui) (dismiss)
Géchú (革除) (gechu) (expel/forcefully remove)
Fú (祓) (fu) (cleanse/remove evil)

OTHER WORDS –
Dao-chang (道场) Buddhist/Daoist rites performed to save the souls of the dead (chang = place)
Emo (恶魔) demon/spirit
Mogui (魔鬼) demon/evil spirit
Yao (妖) goblin
Yaojing (妖精) alluring woman
Yaofeng (妖风) evil breath/wind
Zhaoyaojing (照妖镜) Monster-revealing mirror
Xin (心) heart/core
Ku (苦) hardship/bitter/suffering
Gu (骨) bone/skeleton
Guhui (骨灰) ashes of the dead
Chi (哧) wish
Huanguan (宦官) eunuch (court official)
Rexue (热血) righteous ardor
Xuehai (血海) sea of blood
Xueye (血液) blood

YIN AND YANG –
Yinguang (阴光) moon light
Yangguan (阳光) sunlight

World Construction // Nano 2007

2008-12-24T20:55:03Z

Title: N/A
Other: While getting ready to post some samples from my new story, I was going through and reorganizing my tags. I realised that I never posted the construction stuff I had made up for last year's Nano. I think I did on my regular journal...? Anywho, I decided that I would make a tag for that as well and yeah :D because making up the world is half the fun. This one is more construction of everything.

Terms

Hill-Folk: Hill-Folk lived in the forests, hills, and valleys of the world, respecting nature with the worship of such gods and goddesses.
- Side Note: weapons of preference are blades (swords, daggers, sais, etc), bows and arrows, and pole weapons (bo/quarter staff, halberd, etc).
City-Dwellers: City-Dwellers live in cities made entirely of machines, steel and concrete, modern technology and magic. They hate the Hill-Folk with a passion and their reason is lost in time.
- Side Note: weapons of preference consist mainly of guns (small hand guns, pistols, etc) that can be carried on the person.
A Fallen: A Hill-Folk who has committed a sin against their Order. There are three ways to become a Fallen:
- To turn your back against the god or goddess of your order. More often than not when this happens, the Fallen resorts to the methods of a City-Dweller. Sometimes, there have been reports of the cleric making a pact with a demon.
- To stain your hands with the life-blood of another human. Typically shortened to murder, thought it is not always the case.
- To love a man or woman. More inclined to the female clerics. Thoughts and bodies are to be kept pure.
  - Side Note: Any man who has made love to a female cleric is to be put to death, regardless of his status.
  - Side Note: Consummating marriages is a separate case—where in the two individuals are joined with the consent of the god/goddess they worship.
Clerical magic: magic used only by the Hill-Folk’s clerics. Depending on which division you are in decided your magic type. Hill-Folk must become stronger in their faith in order to be strong in their magic. Elemental, divination, and healing spells.
Modern magic: consists of alchemy and using spells (instead of prayers). Used only by City-Dwellers and considered heinous by the Hill-Folk. City-Dwellers can study magic and memorize spells to become stronger.
Water Nymphs: an all-women division who worships the water goddess. Clerics use water spells to heal and attack. Even though their outfits are revealing, the woman must NOT have or have had any sexual contact because they must be pure like the water and the goddess they worship.
Wood Nymphs: an all-women division who worship the wood goddess. Clerics use wood spells for attack and defense. Much like their sister group, the Water Nymphs, they have the light, revealing clothes of their division and are forbidden sexual contact.
Guardians: Normally all-male groups. It is their job to protect the clerics and the Hill-Folk. They sometimes will learn a prayer or two from the division they are guarding, but generally don’t use magic.
Grave Robbers: A small number of Fallen (currently numbering seven, though there are ten spots) who work as an assassination team for the City-Dwellers. They specialize in manipulating certain elements and have strong shamanistic powers. They each have a special mask of a creature that they wear while on missions.
Shadow Guard: Summoned demons and fiends used by the Grave Robbers.
The Attack: Happening a little over a year before the story starts. The Attack was a massive uprising of Fallen and members of the Hill-Folk, as well as an onslaught of attacks from the City-Dwellers. Several of the Fallen had made contracts with demons to go and destroy the towns and harm or kill as many Hill-Folk as they could.
The Resistance: Formed by Niko shortly after the Attack. Many practitioners who were wrongly deemed a Fallen were invited to join—Ky among them. They have several small divisions across the country side, and are all working towards the general goal. They plan on freeing the Order from the terror that the Attack put them in, and getting the wrongly accused Fallen to be Redeemed.
Clerics: Makes up a general population of the Hill-Folk. These are the people who devote their lives to a specific deity and can use their prayers for attacking and defensive purposes. All Hill-Folk wishing to become a Cleric join the desired division at seven years old, in which they start training and learning their prayers. They are all trained to fight with weapons and their magic, despite the fact that the Hill-Folk don’t fight amongst themselves.
Priests/Priestesses: They are not allowed to participate in combat. They use their spells for divination and healing purposes. There are six people of this rank for each division. Two male/female of standard rank, then a male/female to be the head of their division. The heads are responsible for everything that happens within their division.
- Side Note: Only in the Nymph division are there only three priestesses, as men are not allowed among that order
The Order: four elders from the villages, each a powerful practitioner of a specific Elemental season. They oversee political and religious matters on all levels, and have the power to decide who is to be deemed a Fallen.

Clerical Magic Divisions Elemental spells (connected with seasons)

Fall: Fire, Earth
Spring: Water, Wood
Winter: Ice, Wind
Summer: Lightning, Sand

Spell Casting

Elemental magic can be used in all different kinds of ways. Certain combinations with other clerics can make stronger results.

Solo Spells: a spell cast by one cleric. Spell is stronger in the season it is aligned with
Dual Spells: a spell cast by two clerics. There are two different types of Dual Spells
- Seasonal: two clerics of the same division cast a spell together (ie, Lightning and Sand). Makes for a very powerful attack, especially in the correct season
- Opposition: two clerics from separate divisions cast a spell together. This can only work with certain elemental alliances, however.
Group Spells: a spell cast by four or more clerics. Strongest when several of the same Seasonal/Opposition groups, or when representatives from each division cast together.

Opposition Spells

Fall and Spring:
- Fire and Water
- Earth and Wood
Winter and Summer:
- Ice and Lightning
- Wind and Sand

Characters

Samuel “Sam” Evans:
- 14 years old, unruly brown hair, bright brown eyes. In 8^th grade at the local middle school.
- He prefers to go by Sam because it doesn’t stand out. He hates being in the spotlight for anything, but is often put into positions by his friends that draw attention to him. He is rather talented at acting and soccer, but doesn’t do either of them frequently.
- Attempted kidnapping by the City-Dwellers was intercepted by Ky and Niko. He lost half his memories in the process.
- Practitioner of the Summer Sand. Fights with Hemi’s old pair of sharpened kunai.
Ky:
- Almost 15, smooth silver-blue hair that reaches just past her shoulders, round amber eyes.
- Quiet, but strong willed. She hasn’t smiled much at all since her brother’s death and being deemed a Fallen. Despite being so young, her seriousness causes her to be taken as someone much older. She comprehends things easily and helps with the planning for attacks.
- Practitioner of the Spring Wood (going on third year cleric). Fights with a long, thin sword. Member of the Wood Nymphs.
- Became a Fallen after she held her brother’s body as he was dying.
Ren Hari:
- Just turned 19, orange-red hair that sits flat on his head, clear blue eyes.
- Very timid and shy. Doesn’t have a lot of confidence in himself. He is very much in love with Beryl Dawn, ever since he was sent to retrieve her from the City-Dwellers. Despite being so reserved, he is very protective of Beryl and very dedicated to his friends.
- He was 17 when he was sent on the task of rescuing Beryl. Originally, it was his older brother Milo’s duty, but he failed to find her, then failed to return to the Hill-Folk. Because of this, Ren was sent instead. They returned shortly before the Attack.
- Practitioner of the Summer Lightning (seventh year cleric). Fights with two short swords.
Beryl Dawn:
- 17 years old, long blood-red hair, liquid-gold eyes.
- She as a sharp tongue, argumentative, and passionate. She compliments Ren very well, and they are rarely separated from one another. A lot of people think she was trained in the wrong element because of her personality. She finds Ky to be a little stuffy, but loves the girl dearly. Her body and mind are weak due to her time spent among the City-Dwellers.
- Kidnapped by the City-Dwellers when she was 12; the Order believed she had ran away and deemed her a Fallen. However, Ren Hari was sent to bring her back after reviewing her case. She was 15 when he rescued her. The City-Dwellers managed to wipe her memory completely. Since returning to her homeland, she has been undergoing the slow processes of regaining her memory.
- Practitioner of the Spring Water (fifth year cleric). Fights with two sais. Member of the Water Nymphs.
Niko:
- 26 years old, really short dark brown hair, small hazel eyes.
- Loud and forceful. He was good friends with Hemi, and they were Guardians together. After Hemi’s death, he took over the role of Ky’s older brother. He’s currently the leader of the Resistance, forming it with several survivors and wrongly accused Fallen after the Attack.
- Guardian of ten years. Picked up a bit on Fall magic, dabbling both in earth and fire. Fights with a halberd and used to keep Hemi’s kunai, until he gave them to Sam.
Hemi:
- 24 at time of death, rather long burnt orange hair, kind amber eyes.
- He was a very compassionate, kind figure. He died during the Attack while protecting his younger sister and several of the other clerics belonging to the Wood Nymphs.
- Former Guardian of 8 years. Looked over the Wood Nymphs because of Ky. Fought with a pair of sharpened kunai (now belonging to Sam)
Milo Hari:
- 26 years old, ruffled mop of light-brown hair, bright green eyes.
- Very loud, strong-willed, and determined. He’s quick to laugh at a joke, but quick to sober up in a serious situation. He doesn’t like to follow the rules, which is why he left the main settlement of the Hill-Folk. With a few other former Guardians, they protect the borders of the lands. On occasions, he’ll team up with Niko and the Resistance. He originally was sent in place of his brother to find Beryl Dawn, but he was unable to locate her and failed to return to the Hill-Folk. Thus, the responsibility fell to Ren.
- Former Guardian of five years. He fights with a glaive, equipped with an ornate blade at the end.
- He was sent to search for Beryl when he was 20. After searching for two years and failing to find her, he decided not to return to the Hill-Folk. Instead, he set up a small sanctuary on the borders of the land.
Aelies:
- 21 years old, long straight black hair, cold purple eyes
- Quiet, cold, and calculating. She holds no pity and will attack things without remorse. She normally has members of the Shadow Guard following along behind her to act as guardians. Ruthless and efficient, she has earned the job of a Grave Robber for the City-Dwellers. Without a doubt, she is a very chilling beauty.
- Former practitioner of the Spring Wood (five years). Now she can manipulate liquid metal (she carries a small container of it on her person). Fights with two combat fans.
- She was deemed a Fallen in the very beginning of the Attack, although she had been planning it for some time. However, she refused to let the City-Dwellers erase her memories. She has a Fox Mask to depict her membership of the Grave Robbers.
Enir Sine:
- 25 years old, deep deep red hair that is short around her face, but extends longer down to the middle of her back, soft, deep green eyes.
- Very placid and docile. She always has a kind smile on her face, despite the fact that things look for the worst. As the story progresses, she has to start covering her body with more and more bandages due to a disease that she contracted during the Attack.
- Head priestess for the Wood Nymphs. She doesn’t fight, and uses her magic mostly on healing and divination.

NaNo - 2008

2008-11-28T22:21:43Z

Title: In which Elizaveta contemplates the married life.
Fandom: Hetalia
Word Count: 900
Total Word Count: 11710
Other: So I imagined this in like... an 18th or 19th century setting. Originally, I wanted to make Gilbert one of Roderich's knights, but was too lazy to try and fit it in with dialogue or history and so just left it that.... he's a neighboring family! Ahaha.

            It wasn’t that Elizaveta was afraid of marriage. Despite her years pretending to be a boy, she—like any young woman at the age of nineteen—loved the idea of marriage. Loved to plan out just how it was going to go, what her husband would be like, even naming the children. Elizaveta harbored the same fantasies but it was more of an issue of being ready.
            She had only just stopped pretending to be a boy three years ago when her family finally decided to just surrender to the Edelstein family. She only had three years to construct ten’s worth of memories and feminine ideas and habits.
            This really was too much for one woman!
            Now, not to be thought wrong of, but Elizaveta respected Roderich and cared for him deeply. Three years of being a servant had passed by quickly, but slowly enough for her to realize that she had some feelings of attraction towards him.
            When he approached her with an idea—an intent of marriage to offer her a status befit of a proper woman—Elizaveta couldn’t help but think of how terribly cute he was when he was flustered. And it made her giddy and feel extremely lucky to be noticed by him. (Several of the other servants whose condition of service was quite different from hers, called him the ‘young master’; this made him blush and stutter, and girls and women alike would giggle at how cute he was.)
            It would have been foolish of her not to accept the proposal. It had pained her to see her family humble themselves so much to the Edelstein family, and her pride had not wanted to let her serve him as a mere maid. Not that her family would have let her deny the proposal.
            “A union between two families,” he had said, “brings about better relations than servitude.” Roderich never did agree with how things were run in the house before him, and once he became the master of the house he set about to change them.
            So, in all, she could have nothing to truly complain about.
            “Oh. You.”
            Except for that.
            Elizaveta twitched, gritted her teeth together, and slowly turned around. “It’s too early in the day for it to be ruined already. What do you want?”
            Gilbert returned the sneer. “You’re darling husband called me over.” He looked her up and down a few times in a way that made her feel rather uncomfortable and extremely annoyed. “I thought it was weird to see you dressed like a scullery maid after your boyish phase, but it’s even more unsettling to see you dressed like a proper woman.” He snickered and crossed his arms over his chest. “Men’s clothes suit you better, Your Ladyship.”
            Elizaveta was prepared the fling the first thing her hand could find—a golden candelabrum—but resisted the urge. It’s not something the lady of the house should be doing, she told herself. “Don’t mix me up in your sick fantasies, Gilbert Weillschmidt. And wipe that smirk off your face or I’ll go over there and rip it off.”
            His face darkened and the smirk immediately turned into a displeased frown. “Some things about you haven’t changed, love.”
            The candelabrum was in her hand and prepared to launch across the hall, but he ducked and covered his head the moment he saw her arm moving. “Sorry, sorry!”
            “Elizaveta, dear, is something wro—Oh… Gilbert, I was wondering if that was your horse in the stables.” Roderich entered the hall and hesitantly glanced between the two.
            The young woman’s face brightened and she set down the candelabrum and brushed past Gilbert. “Nothing is wrong, Roderich! I was just talking to our delightful friend.” She grabbed onto her husband’s arm and smiled up at him with girlish delight.
            Behind her, Gilbert’s frown shifted into something resembling disappointment. He awkwardly shoved his hands into his pockets and shuffled his feet.
            Roderich smiled at her as he hooked his arm around hers to lead her back out of the hall. After a moment, he paused and looked at the young man behind him. “Gilbert.”
            The figure in question looked up.
            The two, arm in arm, smiled at him. “Come on,” Roderich said. “I invited you here to have lunch with us. Then we can discuss business.”
            Gilbert’s expression shifted, hovering between surprise and an actual smile. Instead, he settled the score with a determined grin and jogged after them. “I might just skip out after the meal,” he said with a laugh, hooking his arms over the shoulders of Roderich and Elizaveta as he leaned in between them.
            She smirked and tossed her head, making sure to hit Gilbert in the face with her hair. “Not if I can help it.”
            “I knew it, you want me, don’t you, love?” he teased back, enjoying the frustrated blush that colored her cheeks.
            “Who would?” Elizaveta demanded, pulling Roderich closer to her. “I already have someone.”
            Frowning, her husband sighed and shook his head. “The two of you need to behave.”
            Elizaveta giggled, resting her head on his shoulder as Gilbert said something in protest and went to walk on Roderich’s other side. No, it wasn’t that she was afraid of marriage. She happened to enjoy it very much. As long as her usual relationships with everyone hadn’t changed, then she couldn’t ask for more.

NaNo - 2008

2008-11-22T19:36:12Z

Title: Family Bonding
Fandom: Hetalia
Word Count: 1800
Total Word Count: 10810
Other: Written for sapphire_pyro !! Watch out for anachronisms in the omake! My speech started getting really colloquial near the end =_=;;; but I didn't think it would matter if I made them speak period or not xD;;; And... I started rushing because I suddenly really really wanted to write something else after listening to the Little Mermaid 2008 Broadway cast recording *A* Be on the look-out for some US + Canada in the near future!

            Arthur hated leaving his young charges all alone and so far away from him. But Francis said it was okay, and that they were okay, and so Arthur had to leave it as it was. Besides, he didn’t have the time or the money to be constantly keeping care of them. So as guilty as he was to say it, the two boys were going to have to grow up on their own.
            When the coach pulled up in front of the house, the two boys were already standing outside. Alfred was wriggling with impatience, while Matthew stood calmly at his side with a happy smile. Arthur opened the door to the coach and barely had time to step down and steady himself on the ground before Alfred collided with his legs.
            “Welcome back!” he said with a toothy grin (he was missing a tooth on the top left, Arthur noted), and giggled, hugging his small arms around the young man’s knees.
            Arthur knelt down and ruffled the boy’s hair fondly. “You’ve gotten bigger.”
            “I’m seven now!” Alfred proclaimed proudly and held out five fingers, paused, and then held out his other hand with two more. “Pick me up!” He reached out with both hands.
            “You’re getting too big for me to pick up!” Arthur said with a laugh.
            “But not too big for me!” Francis swooped in and scooped the giggling boy from the ground.
            Arthur frowned. He had forgotten the other man had come along. There was a soft tug on his sleeve and he looked over to see the other boy standing next to him, timidly bowing his head. “Hello, Matthew,” he said, and picked the boy up in arms.
            “Ahhh no fair!” Alfred pouted from where he clung to Francis’ neck. “You said you couldn’t pick me up!”
            “Matthew isn’t as big as you are,” Arthur retorted, adjusting the weight of the smaller child in his arms as he frowned at Alfred. “Don’t be so spoiled. You’ll grow up just like your uncle Francis.”
            Francis gave a good natured laugh as the boy looked up at him questioningly. “Ah, but a spoiled child will grow up knowing how to get what he wants. And that will make him a good man,” he gloated with a confident grin. He grunted and hefted Alfred up and swung him around before dropping him back into his arms. “Isn’t that right?”
            Alfred’s face was still plastered with his silly grin. “Yes!”
            Arthur grumbled, making Matthew giggle lightly as he hugged the man around his neck.
            Francis looked at his companion over his shoulder, then turned around and walked back towards him. “Let’s trade children!” he proclaimed, skillfully pressing Alfred into the arms of the startled Arthur and scooping away Matthew.
            “Hey—” Arthur made a startled sound as he struggled to support the new weight in his arms.
            If it was possible, Alfred’s smile brightened as he clutched his arms around Arthur’s neck.
            The young man’s expression softened into a slight smile as the boy’s legs twined around his waist and he supported Alfred’s back with his arms. “I’m not as strong as I used to be, so make sure you don’t fall.”
            The boy rested his head on Arthur’s shoulder. “Then I’ll become stronger for you.”
            Trying not to show how surprised he was, a small smile crossed his features as he walked towards the house. “You are good boy,” he said and stroked Alfred’s hair again.
            “Now who is spoiling the children?” Francis teased.
            “Who is?” Arthur snapped.
            The two boys giggled in return.
            Frowning, the smaller young man pushed open the door to the house. “Next one who laughs gets to eat nothing but scones for the rest of the day.”
            The three immediately sobered.
            “Don’t punish us like that!” Alfred whined, looking directly into Arthur’s eyes.
            Matthew let out a suppressed giggle, gasped and smothered his mouth with both hands, then giggled again.
            Francis turned the boy around and held him out at arm’s length. “No laughing, Matthew! You don’t want to eat those mysterious black things called scones, do you?”
            “They’re not mysterious black things!”
            The little boy, trying to contain his grin and with both hands still over his mouth, shook his head.
            It was Alfred’s turn to laugh, but he didn’t even bother to try and stifle the sound.
            Arthur focused his attention on the boy in his arms. “You’ll be eating lots of scones today.” Ignoring the giggled protests, he carried Alfred into the kitchen. Behind him, he could hear Francis lamenting over the loss of a good-man in the making and Matthew continuing on with his light giggles. Arthur put the boy down in one of the chairs and knelt down before him.
            Alfred tilted his head to the side, his giggles dying off at the sudden change in the young man’s expression. His face still carried the honest smile as Arthur smooth down his hair and placed his hands on his shoulders. “Is something wrong?”
            Arthur shook his head, and a delayed smile crossed his lips. “I’m just wondering if you’re growing up okay without me around. I want to make sure that you’re happy.”
            “I am!” the boy replied, swinging his small legs but careful to avoid hitting the chest of the figure in front of him. “You’re very busy, right? So don’t worry about me. I’ll grow up into a good man for you!” He pointed a thumb at his chest and gave a cocky grin.
            He couldn’t help but chuckle, leaning forward to kiss the boy’s forehead before ruffling his hair. “I look forward to it,” Arthur teased as Alfred frowned and tried to fix his hair.
            “Mother~!!” Francis sung out, sweeping into the kitchen with Matthew still in his arms. “The family is hungry! But please don’t make any black mysterious things, or Father will be sick.”
            Arthur rose to his feet and glared at the taller man across the kitchen. “You say something like that and I’ll force-feed you dirt for a week.”
            Francis winked at Arthur. “I like it when you’re forceful. And I’m sure the dirt would taste better than half of the stuff you cook anyways.”
            What a dysfunctional family we would make, Arthur thought and chose to ignore Francis. It was always easier then trying to argue back.

Omake:
            “Alfred, my boy, I almost forgot!” Francis reached into his traveling bag and pulled out a beat-up envelope. “I brought more pictures for you!”
            Arthur paused with his fork to his mouth and glared across the table. “What kind of pictures are you bringing him?” he asked as the boy cheered and slipped from his seat to approach the other man.
            As Alfred took the envelope, he said, “Uncle Francis says that boys my age need pictures of naked ladies!”
            Francis winked. “I’m just being a good uncle for a growing young boy.”
            Arthur’s fork fell back to the table as he dropped in surprise, then slammed both hands against the table and rose sharply to his feet. “What kind of things are you teaching this boy?!” He was so furious, that he almost missed what Alfred said after that.
            “He also brings me pictures of you!”
            Arthur’s death glare shifted to the man who suddenly looked embarrassed and surprised. “What?”
            “Alfred, my boy, you weren’t supposed to tell him that part,” Francis said with an uneasy chuckle.
            Matthew watched the conversation shift back and forth with round eyes, continuing to quietly eat. His face showed hints of amusement.
            It was everything thing Arthur could do to resist the urge hurling the discarded fork at Francis. “I will kill you for teaching Alfred your dirty things.”
            “Maybe I should keep those for now…” Francis said, taking the envelope back from the boy’s hands.
            “Maybe you should, if you desire your life.”

Omake pt 2:
            That night, a timid knock came to the door of his room. A moment later, as he looked up, Alfred pushed the door open and slipped in. “Arthur…?”
            “What is it?” he asked, twisting around in his chair and holding out his arms towards the boy.
            Alfred’s head was lowered, but he looked up though his bangs. Then he timidly shuffled across the room and clambered into Arthur’s lap. “Are you mad at me?”
            “Why would I be mad?”
            He looked down at his lap, then up into the young man’s face. “About today at lunch. With the pictures.”
            Arthur frowned. “Don’t ever listen to what Uncle Francis says, alright? If he raises you like that, you’ll turn out just like him.”
            Alfred shook his head frantically. “They weren’t… It wasn’t anything like that,” he said honestly. “Uncle Francis told me to tell you that if you asked, because he said your reaction would be funny.” The boy looked down again. “It only made you mad. I’m sorry.”
            He hooked his fingers under the boy’s chin and made him look back up. “Is this true?” Alfred nodded, and Arthur laughed in relief. “What are they pictures of, then?”
            The boy looked away for a moment, then down at his lap. His cheeks were tinged with pink and his fingers fumbled with the loose fabric of his night clothes in embarrassment. “They’re just pictures of everyone from back at his house and your house. Matthew and I—we sometimes get lonely without all of you. So Uncle Francis told me he would bring pictures when he visits, and he always writes a long letter about what has happened since we last saw you.”
            Arthur felt guilty and he ran a hand back through Alfred’s hair. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner? I’ll come visit more often. I hate having to leave the two of you here alone.”
            But Alfred shook his head and sat up with a serious expression. “We want to grow up strong just like you and Uncle Francis. So Matthew and I are fine as we are.” He put his arms around Arthur’s neck and rested his head on his shoulder. “Can I stay in your room tonight?”
            He rested his cheek against the boy’s head. “I’m going to be working for awhile still.”
            “That’s fine,” Alfred replied, smiling sleepily and hugging his arms a little tighter.
            Arthur smiled as well, rising to his feet and crossing over to the bed. He set the boy down and tucked him in under the covers. “Good night, Alfred.”
            “Good night, Arthur,” the boy muttered in return and snuggled down into the sheets.
            The young man lingered at the side of the bed for a moment, using the tips of his fingers to brush Alfred’s bangs across his forehead. Then he sighed and went back to his desk to finish up on his work as quickly as he could.

NaNo - 2008

2008-11-20T17:24:06Z

Title: Happy New Year
Fandom: Hetalia
Word Count: 1108
Total Word Count: 9010
Other: So there's a tradition on New Years that you kiss a loved one to bring you good fortune in your relationship for the coming year, or something like that. Written for rainy_takako 8D

            “How is your head feeling?” Alfred asked, crouching down beside the arm of the couch. Only one of Arthur’s hands was visible in a nest of blonde hair as it rested gracefully upon his forehead from over the edge of the arm from where he hovered.
            “What the hell was in that drink, you bastard?” he groaned. His fingers twitched in annoyance from the sudden noise.
            Trying to stifle his chuckle, Alfred extended one hand over the arm of the couch. He nudged the side of Arthur’s face with his fingers lightly to try and get his attention. “Aspirin.”
            Arthur’s hand shifted, then slid from over his eyes as he rolled his head to the side; his face rested against the young man’s palm for a moment, then, with a disgruntled groan, he his head rolled away and he nuzzled the back of the couch. “Your finger went up my nose.”
            “That wasn’t your nose, idiot,” Alfred replied. His hand tingled slightly where it had been warmed by the gentle breaths. “C’mon, sit up. I told you not to drink it but you didn’t listen to me.” He nudged the man’s face again and again, hooking his fingers under his chin to guide his head around.
            “My nose, my mouth whatever shutup you’re making my head hurt,” Arthur grumbled and tried to burry further into the cushions.
            Alfred laughed. “I’m trying to take care of you and you’re being mean to me,” he complained with faked dismay. “Now try to sit up and drink this,” Alfred said, slipping his other hand around the other side of Arthur
            “You probably deserve it,” the other male complained, but obediently rolled back over and wriggled around on the couch in an attempt to sit up. He only resulted in pushing his head over the arm of the couch, and glared at Alfred upside down.
            He only grinned.
            Arthur continued to glare until his head hurt (which actually didn’t take as long as he would have hoped), then pushed himself up into a proper sitting position and snatched the two tablets from Alfred’s hand. Then he glanced over at the tall glass in his other hand and glared at the orange liquid for a moment. “What is it?” He twisted around to stare down at the young man behind him.
            “Champagne and orange juice!” he chimed, his chin resting on the arm of the couch. Alfred looked up at him and grinned.
            “Are you trying to get me more drunk?!” Arthur snapped.
            “It’s almost midnight. You have to have a drink to make a toast,” he pouted, still looking up over the rim of his glasses. “I made it really weak.”
            Arthur hesitated, trying to sort out his thoughts to remember why he was even with the brat in the first place. Midnight…? Er… Hmm… Oh, that’s right. “New Years…” he muttered, then swung his legs off the couch and leaned against the back of it.
            “Ehhh? You mean you had forgotten?” Alfred teased. “You’re so mean to me!”
            “Shut up!” he said, blushing, and took the glass that was offered to him. By the time he took the two aspirin and managed to suppress a wince, the young man had returned to his side and was about to sit down with a glass of his own. “Go turn down the lights. They make my head hurt.”
            Frowning, Alfred put down his glass and disappeared from his line of vision for a moment. Then the lights went down and the pain abated slightly from behind his eyes.
            Arthur sighed and rested his head against the back of the couch. He suddenly felt very tired. “Wake me up when the countdown starts.”
            “Alright,” Alfred replied softly with a smile. He settled down onto the couch, squeezing in between the arm and the young man beside him—who immediately grunted in annoyance and wiggled a little further away.
            As he dozed off, Arthur imagined something warm and just a little too heavy around his shoulders. He also thought he could feel the feather-soft movement of his hair across his forehead as someone’s breath moved it to-and-fro. Then again, his imagination always was little overactive.

           “Oi, wake up, it’s about to start.”
            Arthur really didn’t want to wake up. The heavy warmth was gone from his shoulders, and when he opened his eyes, he found Alfred with one arm propped against the back of the couch above his head, and he was leaning away against the arm of the couch with his chin tucked against his hand. He wasn’t too sure, but he thought for a moment that Alfred could have been blushing.
            His attention was drawn over to the TV, wondering when it had been turned on. “What’s this?” he asked, referring to the program.
            “The New Years celebration in New York,” the young man replied. He picked up the remote and turned up the volume slightly. “Countdown starts in about thirty seconds.”
            Arthur had never been too into the celebration of New Year’s thing, but he was feeling considerably better now that his headache had receded, so he decided to try and enjoy it just a little. And this was the first time they sat together without arguing in awhile. Enjoy it just a little.
            The countdown on the TV began. “Ten… nine… eight… seven…”
            ‘Happy New Year’ is all I have to say right? Why does it suddenly feel awkward? I just have to say it and smile and—Why did he always start worrying about these things?! To distract himself, Arthur leaned forward when the count got to ‘three’ to reach for his drink.
            On ‘two’, Alfred’s arm slipped off the back of the couch and wrapped around his shoulders. His other hand reached out and he turned Arthur’s face towards him.
            On ‘one’, they kissed. Or, more properly, Alfred kissed him and Arthur’s brain took a few seconds to start working again. And maybe it was because he was still drunk, or still half asleep, or—well, it certainly wasn’t because he enjoyed it!—but Arthur’s reaction was to kiss him back.
            When they slowly pulled away, ignoring the sounds of the celebrations on TV, their faces were still close together and Arthur realized that the breath he had felt before was Alfred’s and the heavy warmth was his arm and he suddenly felt very embarrassed.
            But the young man wouldn’t let him pull away, keeping his arm clamped around the small shoulders, and he smiled. “Happy New Year.”
            He hesitated for a long time, simply soaking in the feelings before he frowned and said, “Brat, you stole my line.”

NaNo - 2008

2008-11-14T06:34:08Z

Title: In Which Toris Realises that Friendship Comes in Different Forms
Fandom: Hetalia
Word Count: 1091
Total Word Count: 9010
Other: Written for Kit! Nyaha based off the part when Russia decides to take Liet. Ohgod it hurt to write Poland. So many "like, so totally". But Liet is so cute <3

            If there was one thing Toris hated more than losing, it was being defeated. Utterly and completely defeated—stomped into the ground without a hope of getting up again to fight back. Despite his naïve expression and the fact that he had to constantly protect Felix, he worked hard to protect what he cared for. And together, for they always were together, they were a force to be reckoned with.
            That was until a larger force came along.
            When faced against Ivan, Toris found himself suffering the worst defeat imaginable. It hurt. He hurt. There was nothing he wanted more than to just crawl away and go back home to recover. But that wasn’t possible now.
            Ivan’s grip was hard and painful against his upper arm. “Get up,” he ordered in his calm voice that sent chills through anyone’s spine. “I will be taking you with me.”
            Toris winced, struggling to pull his arm free. “Let go of me! I don’t want to go with you!”
            “But I want you,” he replied with a cold smile. “And my wants are more powerful than your wants.” The grip tightened and he heaved the trembling young man to his feet. “So you will be coming with me.”
            “Felix! Felix, please wake up!” Toris continued to struggle against the hard grip. For a moment, he broke free and tried to dash back to the side of his still companion. But his legs trembled beneath him and he only fell to his knees. He isn’t moving. Is he dead? Oh God oh God please let him get up. Toris let out a strangled cry as an iron hand clamped on the back of his neck.
            “Now, now… I thought I told you that you were mine.” Ivan hoisted him back to his feet.
            “Let me go! Felix—please get up!” Toris’ hands tried to pull away the fingers from the back of his neck.
            A long, slow chuckle came from the figure on the ground. The young man fidgeted, then pushed himself up enough so that he could flop over onto his back. He chuckled again, the sound turning into a strained giggle.
            Toris let out a breath and gave a shaky smile. “You’re okay…” He forgot about the hand that was trying to drag him away and relaxed. Felix is okay… But then Ivan pulled him back a few paces and reality came crashing back down onto him. “F-Felix!” He stretched out one hand towards his companion. Why aren’t you doing anything?!
            Felix giggled again and tilted his head back far enough so he could see the two. “Your face is like… so funny right now, Toris.” He tried to laugh, but it broke off in a fit of coughs. “I so like… can’t take you seriously when you make a face like that.”
            Toris hesitated, failing to find an appropriate response. “M-my face?” He struggled against Ivan’s hands. “The man who defeated us is taking me away and the only thing you can think about is how my face looks?!” He was trying so hard to hold back the tears. Don’t cry. Don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry!
            “Well, it’s not like I can do anything.” Felix managed to sit up, suppressing the wince as he did so. Instead, he plastered on his characteristic stupid, taunting grin.
            “You can’t do anything?!” He was furious now. He pulled and fought against Ivan’s hands, but they only gripped harder and pulled him closer against the strange man. “What about trying to help me?! I thought we were partners, Felix!”
            The young man on the ground shrugged, winced, and smirked. “So not worth the effort.” His bright eyes were focused on Ivan as he said this.
            Toris went limp, eyes wide. “I can’t believe you… You bastard, I can’t believe you!” He made a lunge for Felix, but strong arms wrapped around his chest and pulled him back. Toris flailed, not caring any more what happened to him as he tried to break free. “I can’t believe you!”
            “I think this good-bye was long enough,” Ivan said cheerfully, successfully restraining the young man’s movements with a tight grip. “Come along now, Toris.”
            Felix dropped back onto the ground, humming tunelessly to himself as the tall man began to drag the protesting figure away.
            “Won’t you even look at me?” Toris shouted, his voice raw and his throat burning from the suppressed tears. “You bastard, after all I’ve done for you and you won’t even look at me!” Even if it’s that stupid smile of yours I want you to look at me. Look sad for me—at least try to look sad that I’m being forced away from you! He fell limp once again, and just let Ivan support his weight as they walked away.

            It took a long time for Toris’ feet to actually start working on their own again. And even then, they dragged against the ground and only Ivan’s grip on his arm was keeping him upright. The tears fell freely down his cheeks and he cried softly as he walked.
            “Such a nice friend you have,” Ivan said wistfully, breaking the silence between them.
            “Who is?” he muttered, wiping his eyes with the back of one hand. No use, it just made his face dirtier.
            “The one that was left behind. He must have cared for you a lot.”
            “Oh, I’m sure he did.” Toris was feeling spiteful, an emotion he wasn’t used to. It hurt to think this away about Felix, but it was only fair. “He didn’t even try to help me.”
            Ivan arched an eyebrow and looked down at the small figure he was supporting. “You couldn’t tell? He knew that if he tried anything, I would have just hurt you even more.”
            Toris stumbled, looking up sharply at the man. Ivan’s placid smile and cheerful tone as he said that line made his stomach lurch. “Felix—?”
            “Felix, hmm?” Ivan looked back in front of them, studying the horizon absently. “Maybe in a few months I’ll just have to take him as well.”
            Toris concentrated on the path under their feet. He straightened his posture, shaking off the arm around him as he stood on his own. “Don’t you dare touch him,” he said.
            The man didn’t reply, only smiled and squeezed Toris’ arm until he thought it was going to break under the pressure.
            But he didn’t cry out. Instead, he vowed to protect stupid Felix just as he always had. Because it’s what friends are for.

Nano - 2008 - Close Every Door To Me

2008-11-10T04:10:48Z

Title: 10 Things: Close Every Door to Me
Song: Close Ever Door to Me from Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat
Fandom: Junjou ~~Romantica~~ Terrorist
Word Count: 2383
Total Word Count: 7919
Other: I'M GOING TO TRY AND POST THIS AGAIN. Because I prefer to have people commenting on my post than on FF.net so I can reply to them 8D Written for my darling antieden ~~~ Enjoy it *A*

1) Do what you want with me

The boy sat on the bed before him, shirt half off his shoulders and chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath.

“Stop pretending,” Miyagi snapped, twisting around to slide off the edge of his bed.

But Shinobu was faster, lunging across the space between them and wrapping his arms around Miyagi’s chest. “Don’t go!” he cried, pressing up against him in such a way that Miyagi was really tempted to do just as he said.

But he shook off the boy, flinging him back against the pillows and rising resolutely to his feet. “It will only hurt you.” He was well aware of the double meaning behind the words.

Shinobu struggled into a sitting position, wincing as he did so. “I don’t—I don’t care!” he gasped, sliding one hand across his chest and bunching his fingers into a fist over his heart. “If it’s you… then I don’t care what happens to me! I can deal with the pain if it’s you, Miyagi!”

Miyagi turned back around, placing his hands on the pillows on either side of Shinobu and forcing him to back away as he leaned in. “I wouldn’t be able to.” His dark eyes studied the boy beneath him, memorizing the image to replay later when it was safer. But for now, he knew it was too dangerous and knew that he had to resist the invitation.

2) Hate me and laugh at me

It was hard to tell if Miyagi was serious about anything. For all he knew, the man could be leading him on a dramatic play only to laugh at him later and call him a stupid brat. But still, Shinobu had to take the risk and commit himself to the relationship with everything he could.

Until the truth of his intentions was revealed, Shinbou would continue to follow after him and love him. He prayed every night that he wouldn’t wake up to find that he had been abandoned or hated. He would not be able to live if he was hated by Miyagi. So God, please God please, just let him keep on loving the man without anything happening.

3) Darken my daytime and torture my night

For a long time, Shinobu refused to acknowledge his feelings. Maybe the idea of ‘destiny’ was wrong. It had been too farfetched and only happened in stories anyways. He did not have a storybook life. And while it would have been nice to have his love accepted, the object of his affections was seventeen years older, a professor, a man, and married to his beloved sister.

But what made it worse was that he could not stop thinking about that man. He stopped going to that particular library in order to reduce the chances of having to see him and ended up hurting even more when he couldn’t see him (even though it hurt just as much to see him).

Shinobu had a picture of his brother-in-law that he kept hidden away between the pages of his journal. And while in Australia, instead of thinking about his family, he would think about him instead. He came up with hundreds of scenarios in his head, wrote several of them down while in a half-daze (only to later tear them out in embarrassment, furiously throw them into the trash, and then fetch them from the waste-basket a minute later because he couldn’t bear to throw them away).

And at night, alone in his room, thousands of miles away, he would lie awake in his bed and plague his thoughts with images that could never come true and torture his body with a longing that would never end.

4) For I know I shall find my own peace of mind

Shinobu was curled up on the bed next to him, clutching the sleeve of his shirt with one white-knuckled hand. “I missed you…”

“I missed you too,” Miyagi returned, his lips curling into a small smile around the cigarette. He used his free hand to play with the light brown strands of hair that were splayed across the boy’s forehead.

“Can… I stay over tonight?”

“You just live next door. It’s not like anyone will notice if you don’t go home for one night.”

Shinobu opened one eye and stared up at him, then closed it again and turned his head to rub his cheek against Miyagi’s hand. “Can I sleep with you tonight?”

“You’re being awfully cheeky,” Miyagi teased, chuckling as Shinobu frowned. “It’s fine,” he said. “You can stay over.”

The boy lazily stretched up one hand, keeping his head nuzzled against Miyagi’s. Obediently, the man pulled the cigarette from his mouth and leaned in to kiss him as Shinobu’s arm folded around his neck.

5) Just give me a number instead of my name

As a professor, Miyagi had to deal with plenty of brats. He would often complain about them to Kamijou (who would then tell him he was being too lenient on his students and should buckle down. Then they wouldn’t act like brats. “Ah, but Kamijou, I don’t want to be called a “demon teacher” like you are.” That earned him a book to the head) but in the end, the brats were still brats and he referred to them as such in his head. Sometimes it was a struggle not to call them that to their faces.

Shinobu was a brat as well. Maybe it just turned out that all people under the age of twenty were brats in his eyes (stop thinking like an old man, Miyagi). However, he couldn’t always pretend to play the ‘teacher’ role to Shinobu like he could with his students. Shinobu is… well, Shinobu is…

His lover.

Not his student, nor his ex-brother-in-law, nor his charge, nor his next-door neighbor. His lover. To hide his embarrassment, he would call Shinobu a brat. Whenever he said the boy’s name, sometimes he would think of how he said it the night before—how the name sounded so different when muffled against skin and kisses. And, ashamed, Miyagi would call him a brat and push the blame onto him.

6) Forget all about me and let me decay

Miyagi was afraid all the time. He was afraid that one day Shinobu would wake up and realize he was no longer in love with the man and move on to someone younger. It was only natural to think that, right? At his age, Miyagi was looking for something constant. But Shinobu was still young, and young love never works out.

He knew that one very well.

And while it didn’t matter that the boy confessed to him first, it was his heart that was the more fickle of the two. What would happen to Miyagi then? Would he obsess over it like his previous lost love? He would have to see the boy every day as long as they lived next door. He would have to see Shinobu bring home other lovers (men? Women?) and would have to smile and pretend that it was okay. Of course it wouldn’t be okay! Even thinking about it… Even thinking about it made him upset and distressed and feel like a troublesome old man. But until he was pushed away, then he would continue to play that role . Because it seemed to work so far.

7) I do not matter I’m only one person

Miyagi wasn’t entirely too sure what he had said in order to send Shinobu off on another one of his rants. But he had said something wrong.

“Do I really mean nothing to you, Miyagi?” the boy demanded, teary-eyed and unable to calm his breathing. “You keep going on and on about society and rules and people and adults and everything without trying to explain it to me.” He paused for a moment to try and form a coherent sentence, but was unable to.

“I don’t know where you keep getting these ideas, Shinobu—”

“It’s because you say these things! You say these things that make me—that make me wonder if you’re not really serious about this!” Shinobu looked up at him from where he was standing several feet away.

“Shinobu—”

“Answer me first!” he shouted back, taking a few steps away as Miyagi tried to close the distance between them. “Do you really think it’s okay to just push me aside because I’m a brat?”

Miyagi massaged his temples with one large hand, grumbling under his breath with the mounting headache. “Like I said, I don’t know how everything I’ve said about that makes you think that I don’t love you. Or it makes you think that I can’t be serious about you.”

“You—but you never…” The boy tried several times to come up with an argument, but Miyagi knew that he wouldn’t be able to form one.

So he used the chance to step across the space, take the boy in his arms, and kiss him slowly. “You matter to me very much, because you are my one person, Shinobu. Don’t ever think otherwise.”

“S-stupid old man,” Shinobu muttered, but the rest of the complaint was cut off by another kiss.

8) Destroy me completely

Miyagi had been rough in the beginning because he wanted to scare Shinobu away. When he first attacked the boy (he refused to think of it as borderline rape, but ‘attacking’ didn’t make it seem any better), he had been in the hope that the reality of the pain that came with loving a grown man would turn him off. But apparently, Shinobu had taken it in stride and continued to pursue him.

“Are you a masochist?!” Miyagi wanted to ask him. But he knew the correct word to describe the boy was “terrorist” and left it at that.

As their relationship grew more serious, and their sex became consensual, Miyagi found it difficult to control himself. Was that what being in love was about? The inability to constrain emotions and physical desire when with Shinobu?

The boy would often complain about how Miyagi was abusing his body, although he said it with an embarrassed expression because he really didn’t mind.

As for Miyagi, he knew that Shinobu was destroying his composed façade and provoking him into irrational actions. And he thought about it with an embarrassed expression because he really didn’t mind.

9) Bar all the windows and shut out the light

Miyagi knew that if he could, Shinobu would always be by his side. Call him a paranoid old man, but he was constantly afraid of something making the boy leave or get into trouble or just… do something he wasn’t supposed to. Or maybe it wasn’t him being a paranoid old man… Maybe it’s just him being a distrustful lover. A jealous lover?

He never asked Shinobu to stay the night. Instead, he would wait until the boy would ask or if, by some turn of events or another, they mutually decided with actions instead of words that they would sleep together that night. This way, he tested the boy to see if it was really serious on his end. Because Miyagi knew that he was serious. He had been quite sure of that when he made his final visit to Sensei’s grave.

But since he couldn’t trap the boy against his will, Miyagi settled for keeping him close when they were together. Most often, he would spend part of the night studying and kissing and stroking Shinobu’s sleeping face. It looked so pale and beautiful in the dark. And, jealously, he did not want anyone else in the world to see it.

10) Close every door to me keep those I love from me

Shinobu knew that if society caught on, then it would be the equivalent to his life ending. Miyagi told him to not be so dramatic, and that even if they were forced apart, he would still find a way for them to be together. And while this comforted Shinobu slightly, when he would go home and close the door behind him, he felt as if there was some possibility that he would open it again and everything would go wrong.

There was the possibility that if, when he is visiting Miyagi at M university, his father would walk in. His father was the head of the literature department, after all, and had no reason to not pay a visit to Professor Miyagi. As it was, Shinbou himself had walked in on Miyagi and the assistant doing unmentionable things (just thinking about those occasions still pissed him off). What was to stop anyone else from simply opening a door and discovering just what really rested behind it?

Would he open the door to Miyagi’s apartment and find him with someone? Like he found Miyagi and that man before—only this time in a more serious situation? (The apartment was a personal space after all. The office was one thing, but finding his lover with someone else while in the apartment was another.)

He knew that these were concerns he couldn’t express to Miyagi. It stressed Miyagi out enough already just being with him (was he really that much of a burden?) so the last thing he wanted to do was add to the stress. He would not consider the option of ending their relationship. He could not and would not. It would pain him too much to be away from Miyagi. It was hard enough staying in his own apartment—they were next door neighbors, for crying out loud! Shinobu would have just preferred to move into his lover’s apartment so that he could be with him for as long as possible. He wouldn’t mind paying the rent for the extra apartment because it would distract his parents from the fact that he wasn’t living there.

But then it would be too obvious. Again, someone could come and unexpectedly visit and it would be ruined. And so Shinobu spent as many nights as he could protected by Miyagi’s arms, and wondering if someone would come to the door of either apartment that could blow their secret. It was a terrible way to live, but it was the only way he could think of.