Inked Lion

there’s something about her | g | tara, willow

2007-06-15T21:17:43Z

Title: There’s Something About Her
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Rating: G
Summery: Season Four: Hush. Read between the lines. [Tara, Willow]
Word Count: 47

There’s Something About Her
dis.claimed.
What is said:

“I thought maybe we could do a spell - make people talk again.”

What is not said:

I went to you to get my voice back.

And Tara knows that by the time the latter comes true, she won’t have to say a word.

Notes: "I thought we could..." is an exact quote from Hush. Because I totally just rewatched the episode and went "TARRRAAAAAAAAAA" all through it.

Oh, and title is a reference to Disney's Little Mermaid's song, "Kiss the Girl".

anchor us to the shore | pg | xander

2007-04-23T21:58:53Z

Title: Anchor Us To The Shore
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Rating: PG
Summery: Season One: Prophecy Girl & Season Six: Grave. Heroes can be selfish too. [Xander]
Word Count: 125

Anchor Us To The Shore
dis.claimed.
Save the girl, save the world, Xander knows, and it’s just a déjà vu from the water- to the blood-drenched.

The Master’s boots are made for walking (and he’ll walk all over you), then the end of the world as they know it (but no one feels fine)--burned from inside out, and there’s a girl (or two) on the edge of something; casting her stones out to sea and letting them tangle with her legs to drag her down, down, down.

Save the girl, save the world.

Save the girl, or the world can go to hell (literally or otherwise), for all he’ll care.

Xander does have his priorities in order, after all.

Notes: Referenced songs: Nancy Sinatra’s “These Boots Were Made For Walking”, and REM’s “It's The End Of The World As We Know It (And I Feel Fine)”

distance | pg | dawn

2007-03-09T06:53:46Z

Title: Distance
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Rating: PG
Summery: Season Six: All the Way. Beneath nothing and everything. [Dawn]
Word Count: 131

Distance
dis.claimed.
When a vampire dies, it becomes dust--along with its clothes and jewelry and the stake that Buffy didn’t pull out fast enough.

(Dawn should know; she’d sharpened enough replacements.)

Is it a matter of proximity for what they take with them?

She does not know, but, oh, she’d been so close. Close enough to have dust in her mouth, tears smearing it on her cheeks, coloring the lines in her palms.

Close enough that she doesn’t know why she remains.

(A licked thumb crosses her cheek. Here is Buffy, scolding and gentle and Dawn thinks “she knows” as Buffy wipes away the remnants of him.

Dawn thinks about spooning with the Buffybot. She thinks about never feeling so far away from her sister than that.)

Oh.

flying south to winter | pg | zuko, katara

2006-09-21T08:52:31Z

Title: Flying South To Winter
Fandom: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Rating: PG
Summery: Season One AU. Is it worth it? To steal a girl from her comrades like some sort of bait. Is it worth what it'll cost you? [Zuko, Katara]
Word Count: 382

Flying South To Winter
dis.claimed.
It was an accident, he protests, an accident.

(His opportunist nature invalidates his denials when he orders her taken aboard.)

The crew can only meet his eyes with disgust now. There was no honor in this, their expressions read, with that girl lying beneath their deck—cold and in the cold, like that mattered, but it did, somehow. Their stomachs could not quite settle enough to enjoy their meals, of late.

(Zuko does not eat at all, but, then, neither does she.)

They (he) cut off her hair. She remains as she was when the braid and bun are removed; unresisting. He murmurs an apology, examines her face, desperately seeks acceptance in this: the hair loops that now frame her face unattached from behind, tan skin that is smooth, at ease, the burn on her right cheek (mild, oddly unlike the others that they don't treat either).

(Her eyes are closed.)

He sends her braid, accompanied by a short note, off with a messenger. It’ll take a long time to reach the Avatar, he knows, and wishes that it would arrive just a little later than that. The message: “Come get her.” The implied: “Because we won’t let her go to you.”

(Nothing is said or unsaid about the truth.)

She never gives them any trouble. Never moves an inch from her rest against the wall. Gives them no reason to place a guard by her cell. He does so anyway, if only in hope that she’ll then give them the reason (he) they need(s).

(Give me reason again. Because any honor he claims through this is a sham.)

Zuko looks at her, once, before... Before. And wonders if he’ll be able to say goodbye when it comes time to.

(If you can, if you love, let it go. Let go.)

He does not know of water tribe traditions, only of his own. So it is fire that will take Katara, and finish the work previously started by burns that trace horrific paths over her body.

(An accident, but, still, he’ll finish what he started.)

The embers carry themselves away on the wind as he looks on, wishing he could join them.

It should be granted when the Avatar arrived (never soon enough), just a little too late to do anything but. Zuko can wait.

Notes: Entered in deathyukata's contest, using the prompt: 1. A bird in the hand is dead.

brisé | pg | zuko x katara, suki x sokka

2006-08-15T08:36:31Z

Title: Brisé
Fandom: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Rating: PG
Summery: Brisé: To break apart; to burst. Iroh thinks that Zuko could learn much from Katara—just not what Zuko expects to. [Zuko x Katara, Suki x Sokka]
Word Count: 1313

Brisé
dis.claimed.
He is not sure when this began; all he knows is that as long as it has been, he has watched.

The girls twin each other, both sets of lips curling into a distinctive smirk that Zuko has become unsettlingly familiar with. What is it about the smug assurance that seems to leak into every expression a woman trained in warrior arts makes? It is a different sort of arrogance—not how they hold themselves, but what they are like in motion. Though, now, Suki and Katara are still and jarring not just because of that.

They are out of their element (gone the carefully applied face paint and fans and access to any variation of water), but they are comfortable. They revel in this and Zuko can almost understand why ("almost" because the tension and weight of what it would mean to lose makes it quite difficult to relate. "Almost" because he can also remember never fighting with more relish than with her, never-minding his goal at the time) and observes their spar, telling himself it’s more to learn how to move like a waterbender as Iroh is teaching him than Sokka’s own motivations, but this does not explain why he watches her pauses just as intently.

Of the two, Suki appears to be the more patient—challenging with her casual stance for her opponent to make the first move. Underestimate me, she beckons. Katara is not familiar with such mind games—she doesn’t recognize the strategy behind this; to anger into foolish actions. Katara has only ever seen her temper as a tool—the fuel to her determination, and what will help her stand again when both her legs are broken, for this Zuko envies her—all his anger has ever done is leave him beating his fists against walls he’d constructed due to it. There are parallels between she and him, but he wonders, darkly, if being left behind can ever compare to exile. When Katara covers his hand with hers, at night and around the campfire, he suspects that she believes it does.

(He hates her when she reaches for him, but he does not pull away.)

Katara, in a habit that infects all aspects of her life, always makes the first move, but the real battle does not begin until the second one anyway. It is all about the response, the reaction.

Thus, on the second, Suki has her by the elbow with the intention to throw her with her own momentum from the attempted punch. Katara, wise to this, goes slack in her grip, forcing Suki to support her dead weight for a moment and unbalancing her just long enough for Katara to duck down in the same movement that Suki releases her in and yank Suki’s knee out from under her. She recovers into a crouch (still and tense and something like an animal—no one should be that beautiful on all fours) and makes to lunge forward and take advantage of Suki’s fall just as the other girl herself uses the aid of her hands to support her as she swings her legs out and catches Katara sharply in the stomach. The Kyoshi native rolls into the rest of her fall and stands from it mostly unfazed and steady, eyeing Katara who is slightly bend over, trying to recover from the hit. Again, they have matched expressions—this time ones of careful blankness. They have moved this from a playful exercise to an excuse to work out old grudges ("You’ll never replace Yue!" "—must be grateful that you have that water to fall back on if this is the extent of your abilities—" "So glad you cowards finally managed to come out your hiding hole and face the reality the rest of the world has to.") and Aang is not around this time to diffuse the fight that is rabidly building, off with Toph to prove his supposed competence in earthbending to Toph’s expectations—in other words, he will not be back for quite a while now, if ever.

Sokka is shifting uncomfortably, eyes flickering from girl to girl, trying to decide how best to handle this without seeming to be on either side. Unfortunately he is not the diplomat that this situation desires and more than likely to infuriate both girls further rather than calm them. Zuko finds himself smirking in slight malice. These are tomorrow’s heroes; a befuddled teenage boy and two girls ready to dissolve into a catfight.

And a shamed prince with no control, slithers a passing thought. He grits his teeth. Shut up, shut up, I have no time for this—I have a throne to claim.

Oh? Then act as you will when you have it. There is an echo of Iroh residing in his head and it, most aggravatingly, has a point. As a prince he should be trying to resolve such issues as the one before him in preparation for much grander conflicts. Yes, that’s it, that is the only reason why he would condescend to include himself in such petty things. Right. (nooneshouldbethatbeautiful—Shut up.)

He clears his throat and steps forward, noticing the girls’ glancing at him from the corners of their eyes, but otherwise unmoving. Sokka is, apparently, performing a interpretive dance at him that involves incoherent, flailing gestures—he is practically having a seizure trying to get across his message of "YOU WILL DIE." Zuko ignores him out of sheer pity for his lack of dignity.

A dance. That’s it. This should be treated as such, then.

He approaches, heedless of warnings, and draws their full attention to him by performing a slight, curt bow. Suki raises an eyebrow, right hand falling to her hip and shifting her weight into a contemplative stance and slight amusement in the curl of her lip. He nods an acknowledge at her, passes over the gawking Sokka, and allows his eyes to rest on the wide eyes of Katara. He extends a hand.

"May I cut in?"

Suki lets out a bark of laughter before a hand flashes up to her face, instinctively hiding her grin as she would behind a fan, though the edges of her upturned lips out visible despite this action. She sweeps into her own bow, mockingly dramatic, and backs away to stand beside the convulsing Sokka. Face furiously red, he makes a move toward Zuko before Suki drops her hand from her face and ensnares his—this proves a worthy distraction and Zuko feels almost grateful that Suki has made this so much more easier for him to do than it could have been. He might’ve actually gone as far to say he respected her had she better taste in men.

Through this Katara has been staring at him, eyes now more slightly narrowed and mouth closed. It makes him nervous. That girl chooses now to finally be quiet? To his utter frustration, the hand at his side has begun fidgeting—worse, she notices. Zuko swallows at her softened features, clenching the traitorous hand. No one should be that beautiful just by being.

She brushes herself off and makes to retrieve her water pouch in acceptance. "No," he commands, "leave it." He could weather her storm and she, he’s sure, would love to have a few burn scars so as to relate to him more (cynically, but still he can’t help but think—wait, whenever has he ever bothered to pause long enough to do that?), but there is something about being out of one’s element that puts them on level ground, within each others reach, and he only wants to get this close to better understand how a waterbender moves, really.

Katara is waiting. He makes the first move. What matters, now, is her answer.

Notes: Written for avatar_ficathon at styromgalleries's request:
Prompt/keywords: Pick from these or combine them - faith; protection; blurry

Genre preferred: suspense/action, romance/romantic comedy or angst, gen

Ships preferred: Zutara, Sokka/Suki, and Toph/Aang

Rating preferred: G to light PG-13
Absolute no-no's: sex of any kind, keep obscenities/expletives to a bare minimum

at mercy to miracles: two | g | shizune, genma, raido

2006-07-13T00:04:54Z

Title: At Mercy to Miracles
Fandom: Naruto
Rating: G
Summery: A series of unrelated medic-nin focused snippets: She's back and it's like her boys never change, but something has. [Shizune, Genma, Raido]
Word Count: 141

At Mercy to Miracles
Two: This Little Piggy... (All the Way Home)
dis.claimed.
Genma kisses her once. Just once. Chastely; as a joke. Not an exceptionally funny joke, but she snorts harshly (to her horror) and sticks her fist in her mouth to stifle it as a result.

Raido laughs at her expression and is in stitches when an attempt to remove said fist fails and Genma proceeds to make matters worse with his ‘assistance’.

When the whole thing is said and done and both men are nursing various puncture wounds, Shizune finally settles enough to ask why. There is little reply and the years stretch between them in feeble tries at filling in her long absence where there were no such cheeks to turn red and no such hands to clean up their messes.

There is little reply and she loves them still, so maybe these tries at eternity are not so feeble.

liar, liar- | pg-13 | gin x rangiku

2006-07-12T23:45:25Z

Title: Liar, Liar-
Fandom: Bleach
Rating: PG-13
Summery: He knows her well enough to know she's not entirely beyond his grasp. Still, it's not him that's caught her. [Gin x Rangiku]
Word Count: 509

Liar, Liar-
dis.claimed.
He wasn’t surprised when he found her room empty—futon cold and unruffled—he’d expected as much when he slid in. Gin never questioned whatever his various impulses bade him to do, whether it was to conduct a mutiny and betray dozens of comrades (and her soft, soft curves that disguised a hard, hard heart) or sneak into one of said comrades’ rooms and slink around like a predator awaiting the prey to enter into its trap.

Right now, he didn’t have the foresight to construct any such trap.

(He did.

He omitted much, though, and lied about much more.)

So he waited and pouted and didn’t wonder (care) what Aizen or Tousen would think when they went looking for him and he wasn’t to be found.

They shouldn’t be surprised, really—years of knowing her had made him pick up the habit of never being where he belonged.

He knew where she was. He could tell you the exact place in which she slept, the exact position that she lay in and exactly whose bed she had been to earlier to visit before returning to her favored couch—because she told him he was an unnerving person to be observed by and that gave him all the more pleasure in watching her. Gin, ex-Third Captain and traitor (No, traitor) and addressed commonly by Ichimaru-san, instead of any more familiar term—anyway, with the company of all these titles and such, he was not lonely tonight.

So, he had known where she wouldn’t be and tried not to dwell on where she would be and he had gone to anywhere but where she was. (Because he was the sort of man that knew exactly how hard to push someone to get his way.)

He wanted her to come on her own terms.

Maybe she’d rationalize (she wouldn’t—she doesn’t omit and doesn’t lie, but what she does is something far more dangerous), maybe she’d chose him over it all (she wouldn’t, he’d decided on his lot over her and she was fair enough just to be cruel), maybe she’d let herself fade into apathy and submit to the heavy burdens on her soul (he knew better than even Kira that when things got heavy, she let them go). Maybe, maybe.

Maybe she’d come to him one night—this night—and let her hard heart thump into his right palm as soft curves shuddered with tension.

So he waited for a queen in a room she’d never go to and sat like a king that had no throne. He wondered why she never was where she belonged and knew that now, more than ever, she belonged at his side.

If he had no foresight this night and was not lonely with harsh, heavy titles (he does, he is)—he hoped that his beautiful captor had touched the pillow on his futon and noticed warmth.

Maybe she’d know where to go.

the same deck | pg-13 | kagura x sesshoumaru

2006-05-21T06:45:10Z

Title: The Same Deck
Fandom: Inuyasha
Rating: PG-13
Summery: Kagura figures that if she's not insane then Sesshoumaru must be. Despite that, she likes his flavor. [Kagura x Sesshoumaru]
Word Count: 863

The Same Deck
dis.claimed.
You know that you are in trouble when you feel the sinking. The ground loses touch with reality and the sky swirls and the nail polish you patiently painted on earlier turns liquid and drips to the grass beneath you. Maybe this is insanity. Or not; you know some real crazies and since you’re not running around in a baboon fur, you figure you’re still sane.

...More so than him, anyway.

So you are sinking and not insane and wondering why he looks so deadpan and, well, just plain dead. Maybe he is dead and you just haven’t smelt the rot on him yet. You sniff the air; testing for that metallic perfume you carry constantly (not yours, of course). It occurs to you that he’s too dignified to bleed. You think he’s just stubborn, but he refuses to associate with an adjective that describes his brother. That’s probably why you delight in calling him just that: “You’re so stubborn, Sesshoumaru!” Then he will shift and glare and you will have the satisfaction of knowing how truly easy it is to provoke him. It isn’t the time for all that now because he certainly has an advantage what with you being on the ground and vomiting. How you got there is simple; you sank. Why you’re here is another matter entirely. You’re not insane, so you must have a fever. (Even if you’ve never been sick before.)

“Kagura,” He condescends. His tone implies what he leaves unsaid. (“Fool. Don’t put on such a weak display in front of my person.”) You hate him suddenly. You hack up the rest of this morning’s breakfast into your mouth and spit at him. A sort of stillness descends on the scene and your rebellion is very bitter and pinches your eyes closed. He is... not pleased at your behavior. His clawed fingers grip your hair and lift your limp body up and he shakes you roughly until bright black spots mock you beneath your eyelids. He is not angry. That is another adjective that belongs to his brother. You do not know what he is right now. Maybe insane, if you are not.

You swallow. Eyes as red as your perfume slit open and stare at his snarl. His nose must be overwhelmed by the reek of blood and vomit and tea. Green tea. You practically bathe in it every morning and evening and chances in between. You like its smell as opposed to the other two. He smells like stale air.

Your hand decides to clamp around the wrist of the hand holding you. You clench and your nails dig into his skin and you note that they are still red. Good. He’s the insane one. So far gone that you are sure that if Inuyasha exploded, he’d twist physics and implode. It can’t be healthy to be that obstinate.

Maybe that’s why you are both so at odds with one another. You are contrary (Mary, Mary) past the point of health as well. You are two aces of diamonds in the same deck; so one of you has to be a fake. It’s not him, you know, but he’s insane so maybe you can convince him otherwise. You’ve always been good at mind fucking. Just ask Kouga.

He is watching you and you smile at him for show. The fact that his nose wrinkles in disgust is just another point for you. You don’t argue when he drops you and you release his wrist so you can tumble back to sweet dirt un-halted. Just to spite you, he catches your form before you hit and places you over his shoulder. You drool into his hair and he pinches your leg and you think that he is flavored bitter because bitter pinches.

It’s alright that he is carrying you off because he knows where he is going and you don’t. For a time, you went sky and another time straight down and now you are somewhere between a decorated body and the sky (again). You wonder what it would be like if the body was undecorated and it was the dirt and him that you were between. As much as you try afterwards, you cannot shake the image of him and you and sweet, sweet earth. You do not imagine how sky factors into this because you’ve already fallen and you do not care to show him, nor anyone else, a repeat performance.

All you want to do is sleep, but you are not weary and even then there is no rest. Soon you will sip your tea and peel off your sticky elegance and brush your hair and then you’ll smash your fan and sip your tea. You will purposely leave his room in disarray. What comes of all your nursery rhyme games and veiled warfare is not anything you understand quite yet; so you will pout. He will snort at you and you will sneer back, but you never sweeten your tea and he is always bitter.

fancy armors | pg | roy x winry

2006-05-21T06:32:16Z

Title: Fancy Armors
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Rating: PG
Summery: 30_kisses (26. if only I could make you mine): Roy experiences temptation. [Roy x Winry]
Word Count: 111

Fancy Armors
dis.claimed.
She takes his gloved hand, presses it against her heart (he is deprived of the sense of touch and sorely misses it in this instant) and says, “Burn me.”

He looks at her. She is young and out of reach with his hand settled on her. A hand he thinks could tug her closer for a touch (his lips are not covered like his hands are. His lips are not weapons like his hands are covered with). A hand that could push her and she might never stop falling.

But his hand drops and he walks away. He has lived long enough to know third degree scarring when he sees it.

blue cotton | pg-13 | tenten, temari

2006-05-21T06:13:52Z

Title: Blue Cotton
Fandom: Naruto
Rating: PG-13 (language)
Summery: Two girls in confrontation. Who’s the victim? [Tenten, Temari]
Word Count: 333

Blue Cotton
dis.claimed.
When she was little she’d splattered a girl’s dress with mud. The assaulted, blushing wildly (humiliated, stunned, hurt), had held the skirt of the dress in front of her, glaring at the mesh of soft cotton blue and shit-brown. Tenten, with great pride in her aim, had lectured on the impracticality of dresses and skirts—how a true ninja was above such vain concerns, a true ninja would have dodged, a true ninja would know better then to challenge someone who obviously outclassed them.

Her teacher had interrupted then, placing a stern hand on her shoulder. A true ninja, he murmured, did not pick on the weak. They did not prey on the weak.

She did not care. She was not weak and she was not a victim.

Tenten didn’t wear dresses.

|&|

When she was thirteen she fell.

Not to the group of children she’d tormented daily as a child. Not to the people who justly deserved revenge on their old playground bully. They’d likely had forgotten her by then, anyway. She’d be glad if everyone forgot the days when she thought nothing of stepping on the littlest boy’s foot. She’d thought nothing of stealing the slowest child’s lunch if they hadn’t moved fast enough for her that day.

She was not that little girl anymore. That horrible little waste of a girl.

Tenten would pay for her crimes anyhow.

Maybe she would have resisted. She would’ve clung to the air—she would’ve curled herself into a ball and braced for impact. But she saw the fan and the cocky blonde girl that awaited her descent.

By then she was tired. So she stopped running. She let air slip through her fingers.

She often found it funny how a bully was a victim to none but themselves.

She broke against the fan, blood escaping in her gasp. (Mud covered her face.)

Tenten was defeated by a ninja in a dress.

tag, you’re it | pg-13 | evey, dominic

2006-05-21T06:06:45Z

Title: Tag, You’re It
Fandom: V for Vendetta (comic)
Rating: PG-13 (language and slight sexuality)
Summery: Questions you regret asking. [Evey, Dominic]
Word Count: 397

Tag, You’re It
dis.claimed.
“Have you ever kissed an ideal?” Evey happily takes advantage of Dominic’s pause at her abrupt question, twisting her wrist in such a way that flings his own blade out of hand and across the room.

Her victory. Again. But she’d cheated.

“Have I ever kissed my idol? What sort of question is that?”

“An ideal, not idol. Pay more attention and you might win now and again.”

He gapes at her as she bends neatly at waist to snatch up her water bottle, squirting some in her mouth and on her head in short order. Her T-shirt is damper with sweat this time around, he notes with some pride before going on to disregard her inquiry. She does this cryptic game, now and then—possibly in some perverse sense of nostalgia. He won’t have it. He’s not some toy to be kept—even if he is being kept here. He ignores her to grab his own water bottle, sensing her expectant stare while he pointedly looks elsewhere.

“Well?”

She wasn’t going to let this go, was she? He sighed, and straightened, “No,” he replies dully with a slouch in his usually set shoulders, “I’ve never kissed an ideal.” Ask him if he ever expected to say something nonsensical like this seven months ago and he would have laughed. Of course, ask him if he ever expected to become the captive of a V who is distinctly not V seven months ago... So, there you have it, then.

“Well, I have. Not the most ideal kiss—funny, considering,” Here she smiled, in her odd far off way. “Kind of papery, and lonely; for me, at least. Ideals don’t make for ideal lovers—it’s in their nature to be pursued, but never caught.” She frowned, then. “Perhaps you’re right; idols are too similar in nature to be disregarded as a fair comparison.”

A pause, and then: “Shall we try this again?” Her blade was already in her hand, posed in a moment’s passing. Instinctively he retrieved his to match her.

They began in silence. He held out for two minutes.

“What does that have to do with anything?”

She didn’t hesitate.

“Ah, that? That was just my way of telling you to stop trying to watch me shower.” And that damned wrist twisted again.

the meaning of "in your dreams" | pg | roy x winry

2006-05-18T05:36:38Z

Title: The Meaning of "In Your Dreams"
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Rating: PG (sexuality)
Summery: 30_kisses (6. the space between dream and reality, 2. news; letter): Which is more important: "I love you" or "I forgive you"? [Roy x Winry]
Word Count: 91

The Meaning of "In Your Dreams"
dis.claimed.
“I don’t hate you.” She whispers against his neck.

This is news.

“I don’t hate you.” Her slim, damaged hands on his belt buckle.

What changed?

“I don’t hate you.” Winry wraps her arms around his shoulders.

Prove it.

She’s closer and closer. With pretty hips and her pretty mouth a breath away.

“I don’t hate-” Roy’s eyes are open and wide and red around the rims. The smallest exhale suddenly the difference between hatred and forgiveness. He holds his breath and loses her again.

at mercy to miracles: one | pg | sasuke x sakura

2006-05-18T05:23:11Z

Title: At Mercy to Miracles
Fandom: Naruto
Rating: PG (language)
Summery: A series of unrelated medic-nin focused snippets: Sasuke has never questioned his logic before--maybe it's time he did. [Sasuke x Sakura]
Word Count: 316

At Mercy to Miracles
One: In Perfect Glory
dis.claimed.
“I’m dead, you know,” She says.

She states this so matter-of-factly that for a beat he ducks his head in sharp acknowledgement, kills two more birds (right out of the sky; he’s learnt that making dinner can be very interchangeable with training), before shifting and rebuking, dryly, “No. You’re not.”

“I am,” The blossom huffs, smile edging around her eyes at his gruff denial. “You just haven’t bothered to bring me flowers yet—which is entirely inexcusable. Ino has a sale going on and everything, but for you (or, maybe, for me) she’ll give you some on the house.” She picks her nails.

He plucks the birds, then lets them lie, bloody and mangled, by his campfire while he turns toward her.

Sakura, he knows, is a brat. Or a bitch, or one of the two and he doesn’t have time to waste on this senseless conversation. Death is for the legends that step into obscurity and capture droplets of mourning rain with their last breath. Death is for immortals that shed their last skin in an attempt to feel the sun like a newborn. The elements in perfect glory to reflect off the fallen that chose this last leap.

The last time he checked, the weak did not die. They lacked the strength for it.

Sakura, he knows, is weak. Or dead, but he doesn’t have time to waste on such a debate. She steps away from him and he’s glad because the former is so much more preferable to the idea of any such strength in her.

She runs away from him and he hunches and eats and erases traces of himself. In his earnest to leave, he barely perceives that she left no traces to erase.

“I’m not weak, you know,” She says. He’s just not ready for her to stay.

snake eyes | r | lisa

2006-05-16T23:06:55Z

Title: Snake Eyes
Fandom: Red Eye x Snakes On A Plane
Rating: R (language)
Summery: Train travel is beginning to look more and more appealing. [Lisa]
Word Count: 78

Snake Eyes
dis.claimed.
Lisa really should have known better then to ever step foot on a plane again.

There is an angry black man further back declaring something rather loudly about ‘motherfucking’ and ‘snakes’. Certainly not her mother, she muses, tugging out the sharpened chopsticks she’s taken to wearing in her hair whenever she flies nowadays. She deftly plunges one through the head of the nearest big ass snake before moving on to a particularly exotically colored one.

Motherfuck that.

and he'll not call her hero | pg | oc/snape, lily x james

2006-05-14T09:11:28Z

Title: And He’ll Not Call Her Hero
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: PG
Summery: Maybe he took her for granted even after she was gone. [OC/Snape (see notes for details), Lily x James]
Word Count: 368

And He’ll Not Call Her Hero
dis.claimed.
Lily Evans’ best friend is a not-so-straight boy who used to cling to her sleeve and constantly draws tiny ramblings on his left arm. He is also one year younger and lusts after people-she-doesn’t-know-about-yet. Or else she’d beat him up. Really.

She slams her books about and rants and doesn’t finish her homework that is already late so honestly. He rubs his arm, smudges it (artfully, of course) and sticks his tongue in her ear to get her to change the subject.

When she cries on his robes about what else? He tells her that she is a Mudblood so why does she worry over something that’s just a bunch of sounds strung together? It’s not discoloring her skin or splitting it open or killing her so what’s wrong? What’s the matter? And can you please stop blotching up my essay?

She doesn’t speak to him until she does the next day and he kisses a Ravenclaw prefect in a closet that same evening. Lily worries her lip between her teeth and asks him if he’d ever die for her.

He doesn’t answer and Potter steals a book from her bag that turns her attention away from this.

There are so many wrongs that it feels right. When Lily graduates and forgets about him and runs off to hide with James Potter he thinks that now he can reply to her question.
There are only so many ways something can add up and when she dies he is glad that it was not him instead. He sits by her grave and refuses to say goodbye. He calls her Mudblood and is not surprised when other visitors take offense. She’s still echoing in his head and there is no ear for him to turn to or put his tongue in and there is no ink available in any glass for him to draw from.

He wishes that it was him instead and finally realizes the full potential of words just strung together. He sits by her grave and does not cry and wonders why he ever let Potter steal her away.

Notes: I kept thinking about who Lily left behind (as we've seen who James has) and decided to create my own little OC to give us an insight until the younger her as well. I happily left this boy unnamed and thus one reviewer inquired if he was, indeed, Snape. First impulse? No. Second? ...that could work. There are lots of elements in this character similar to both fanon!Snape as well as canon!Snape - the only thing not really fitting is the whole "stick tongue in ear" thing. Even fanon!Snape isn't that far removed from canon. So he can be whoever you want him to be, really - an OC or OOC Snape.

damned | pg-13 | ashe x rassler, ashe x basch

2006-05-14T08:51:34Z

Title: Damned
Fandom: Final Fantasy XII
Rating: PG-13
Summery: In a word: beginnings. [Ashe x Rassler, Ashe x Basch] (All I know is that she's named Ashe and carries a big sword - thus, this is mostly theory and guessing at characterization, yes.)
Word Count: 312

Damned
dis.claimed.
Her hands are slight and small, and she can clearly remember that he took every chance he could to hold them, grasp and pull her to him – dignity be damned with her hands in his and her pressed against his chest and the biggest, lamest grin spread far and wide across his face –

But no more. It’s just how he use to take her hands. It’s just a memory; for all that it’s vivid. She presses her tongue into her cheek, but does not bite down – does not believe in spreading the pain to take away the strain on her mind; that she’s a widow and hardly ever got a chance to get past the newly-wed stage to the ‘I hate you, but I love you; more than I express when you do stupid things and misplace my shoes and we are old together and cranky together and all our charm was wasted on each other – it’s not waste, though, because we lack regret and move your feet, you big oaf” –

No, she does not believe it would do him due honor to attempt to relief herself of this. Sometimes, she doesn’t even think it would work, anyway. He is too precious a thing to let a bite on her tongue give away. Was. Is. Yes, she won’t give him away, and holds her hands clasped to her chest in such a fashion over her breast that is telling and is giving her away –

So he takes them, ignoring her bitter, polite smile, and – dignity be damned – wraps her hands around a sword and tells her to swing it, just once, and when she does she feels the pull and it is all so clear, all so vivid –

She remembers his hands holding hers, but now she holds her own.

her evening dance | g | anna x king mongkut, prince chulalongkorn

2006-05-12T06:48:51Z

Title: Her Evening Dance
Fandom: The King & I
Rating: G
Summery: Anna is often seized by such things as these. [Anna x King Mongkut, Prince Chulalongkorn]
Word Count: 287

Her Evening Dance
dis.claimed.
If one were to peer slightly behind and to the right side of the imperious king, there, (Looking for all the world at home in huge skirts and layers, despite the heat) will sit the King’s Advisor, officially. Sometimes known as Anna or Mrs. Anna by her dearest. She will be leisurely jotting down some particularly good point the king has made or something you have said that gave you away like various fools before. Streaks of grey stand out like ashes among her candle-flamed hair and eyes that expressed too much emotion when younger as of yet do not give her age away, but they say she was already one-hundred and fifty when she first stepped foot into the country that has yet to pry it’s claws from her heart.

When the proud king notices your gaze, his chin will raise and he’ll step not so discreetly into your view and offer another nerve-wracking change of topic that is just as bad as the previous. So, it never failed that this barrier of a man would cause his visitors to miss the amused little smile that crept over her face. They would miss the stilled pen and the sightless way in which she entertained herself, for once not focused and sharp to the need of her king. This small vulnerable state is always, always, triggered when she lifts her face; seeking phantom bare feet, exotically colored, open shirts and then, finally, a face.

And they’re alone while everyone else seems engaged, so perhaps she could spare her solitude for his hand instead? Anna does not believe in ghosts and counts to one.

Two.

Three.

‘...yes.’

variety | pg | sakura x sasuke x naruto

2006-05-12T06:37:50Z

Title: Variety
Fandom: Naruto
Rating: PG
Summery: There are other ways to deal with a triangle besides adding more points. [Sakura x Sasuke x Naruto]
Word Count: 186

Variety
dis.claimed.
They sit and watch the two children tumble and wrestle, imitating the men in their lives. Every time the sun sneaks a ray of light onto the twin heads the gleam of vivid pink is not lost on the proud mother and she beams, for once not admiring the brooding man at her right, nor scolding the blonde at her left.

Sasuke blinks at the irritating pink flashes at the corner of his eyes and smirks, murmuring over Sakura’s head to his brother/best friend/more than any of that that who knew that pink hair was such a dominate trait? Naruto lets out a bark of laughter and plants a wet kiss on Sakura’s flushed face. The women between them makes sure neither of their children are listening, before whispering, slyly, “Well, we’ll just have to keep trying for a brunette and blonde of our own, won’t we?” and then pretending that she hasn’t just managed to tongue-tie her two boys with just one sentence.

Naruto and Sasuke, for their part, are unsure whether to be horrified or aroused.

rewrite | pg-13 | nami, usopp

2006-05-12T06:29:12Z

Title: Rewrite
Fandom: One Piece
Rating: PG-13
Summery: What Usopp says; what Nami doesn't. [Nami, Usopp]
Word Count: 107

Rewrite
dis.claimed.
Unlike Usopp; Nami doesn’t tell lies. No.

It’s what she doesn’t say that casts her in false light. She’ll not deny the name ‘witch’, or ‘bitch’, or any other little rhyme –

All her life she has let these names fill in the silence for her.

So, while Usopp goes to the Grand Line to make all his lies come true (a goldfish so huge it shits out islands! Can you imagine that, Kaya?) – she goes there to undo.

And every pause there is just a preparation before a shout.

No, Nami doesn’t tell lies, but it’s never too late to learn.

tied tightly at seams | r | tenten x neji

2006-05-10T20:38:45Z

Title: Tied Tightly at Seams
Fandom: Naruto
Rating: R (sexuality, language)
Summery: It's denial, plain and simple. You'll have to paint her hands red for her to see. It's insanity and far gone from simple. She is him for tonight. [Tenten x Neji]
Word Count: 201

Tied Tightly at Seams
dis.claimed.
She does not mind that it hurts. That he is staring her inside out. Nor that she is bending, stretching, conforming to what he wants. She likes the feel of his fingers that leave bruises on the inner thighs and hips. It hurts, but it's there (not here) and even though her hands are not her own right now, she runs them down his chest and pinches and pokes.

She does not mind because she is not herself. She is him. She is the lips that mouths insults against that (not her own) skin.

Not-hers, not-hers. Not. Her.

She is the one splitting herself open. She is the one that is rattled and rattling and nesting. She is the one doing the fucking. She is the only one that will fuck herself over. She'll bind that girl's tongue to keep her silent - so as not to spit out her new name. If that happens - if the she-that-is-not-her realizes, she'll be his. So she possesses herself and places pennies on her eyelids.

She will be the one to make her this not-girl. He will have to wait his turn.

He's made her wait hers.

plucked | pg | harry, lily

2006-05-10T20:32:42Z

Title: Plucked
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: PG
Summery: Harry looks quite a bit like his father, but there are pieces of his mother in him too. [Harry, Lily]
Word Count: 220

Plucked
dis.claimed.
They all knew that there was something special about Harry. The adults, that is – the ones who had met him before that October night.

Lily and James, loving as loving could be, foolish as only the young and inexperienced could be, would not see this in their son, but Lily’s eyes never stopped seeing.

It was not the hiss from his paslelmouth...
(The adults spoken of were numbered five.)
Or his unnatural knack for trouble.
(Two dead, now, or rather, one dead and one as good as.)
And never seeker talents and skill with flying.
(Sirius Black, Peter Pettigrew...)
Not even his friends who took him in hand and were taken in hand likewise.
(One gone and come back and tired. But still heart-breakingly alive.)
Or his inheritance that gave him nothing for all its value.
(Remus Lupin...)
It was not his scar, his fame, his destruction of the dark lord.
(Two that are more powerful then death, one who prevents it, one who conquers it.)
No, on that cool, clear night where a baby lay waiting to fly across country with half-giant on motorbike – the thing about him was, that special something about him was -
(Albus Dumbledore, Tom “Voldermort” Riddle...)

His eyes had not been green the night before.

“You have your mother’s eyes, Harry.”

absent | pg | sting

2006-05-10T20:23:44Z

Title: Absent
Fandom: Gundam Seed Destiny
Rating: PG (character death(s))
Summery: This is not a good place to die. [Sting]
Word Count: 123

Absent
dis.claimed.
Sting dies alone and looking towards heaven.

He is not sad or regretful, but the rage that bubbles up within him manifests in warm, tainted blood dipping down his cheeks.

He is not alone in body count. No, everywhere there is death (at hishertheir hands), but the departed walk this path with family by their sides, at the end, or left behind.

Sting has nobody. And in the end, nobody has him.

Drifting toward eternity, he demises the blonde at his side and the boy at the end. Because if he’d ever had a family, Sting was pretty sure he wouldn’t forget.

Sting is angry and alone, but at some point becomes too dead to care.

And then his breathing halts.

emperors & queens | g to pg-13 | katara x zuko

2006-05-09T20:23:02Z

Title: Emperors & Queens
Fandom: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Rating: G to PG-13
Summery: Fifty ways in fifty sentences to bring a Fire Nation Prince and a Water Tribe Peasant together. [Katara x Zuko]

|here is a throne, make it yours|

not a lovers quarrel | pg-13 | urahara x yoruichi

2006-05-08T19:52:57Z

Title: Not a Lovers Quarrel
Fandom: Bleach
Rating: PG-13 (dark sexuality)
Summery: Their little game of hide & seek. Ollie-ollie-oxen-free! [Urahara x Yoruichi]
Word Count: 270

Not a Lovers Quarrel
dis.claimed.
Yoruichi is avoiding him again. Mildly he regrets making that crack about getting her spayed, but she’s not the one dealing with deep scratches in her back; so he doesn’t feel all that guilty. He wouldn’t mind them so much if they weren’t so distracting (Tessai had already threatened to strip him down and perform first aid after Urahara had winced for the third time).

Also, he’s apparently becoming a masochist - looking at your own scars shouldn’t turn you on. (He’s drowning in memories of hitched breathe and icy skin from sweat. Like a fever that no one cares to cure. Like an addiction he does not want to quit.)

It’s only for the ones she gave him, thankfully. He won’t be screwing Aizen anytime soon. The thought of the be-spectacled man is as good as any cold shower before his thoughts turn to Yoruichi again. She’d be the death of him for the second (third? Fourth?) time before another rebirth that would eventually lead him to wake beside her.

Urahara scratches his chin idly and wonders if he should go look for her. She’s been gone for maybe two days now, though still a far cry from various other trips that took her years to return. He stretches and wanders indoors, instead. Because she may never return home, but cats never pass up a bowl of milk and a warm place to sleep and those he can provide, if not love.

They’re not in love, but they’re not alone. And he can wait for her.

misheard | pg | hermione x ?

2006-05-08T19:47:29Z

Title: Misheard
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: PG (dark)
Summery: Honestly, Hermione just thinks too much for her own good. [Hermione x Mystery Guy]
Word Count: 187

Misheard
dis.claimed.
When he mutters “Mine” absently into her hair, she doesn’t feel as she should. The chill of that word that should come when used with her in mind should make her shudder in something akin to violation, akin to revulsion and fear. Possession is dangerous, it will stretch her out and shrug her on until she’s trailing behind in everyone’s shadows and jumping at every heartbeat. She knows that. She knows better than she should. Because she’s too observant and sees Ginny’s expression when someone grabs her wrist or pins her to the wall in jest. She’s too sharp and cuts all those around her because of it. When he mutters into her hair and flicks her nose, she is grateful that she is insane. She’s feeling something other than she should even though danger is on its way. Maybe. Maybe another day. The warmth spreading through her veins and the relieved smile on her face is odd when he says this word. She must be mistaken (her too-tired mind is now a murmur), he must be saying “’Mione.”