i cleared myself, i sacrificed my blues - you could complete me, i'd complete you;
durarara!! drabbles B)
title: Opposites/Doctor's Business
pairing(s)/character(s): Shinra, Shizuo, Izaya; Shizuo/Izaya
rating: PG-13
summary: Shinra contemplates Shizuo and Izaya, two opposite beings existing in chaotic harmony.
☆OPPOSITES/DOCTOR'S BUSINESS
They were very different, and because Shinra was easy to smile and hard to offend, he got along with them both. It was always interesting to him- the way they crashed like two neon lights that should have always been parallel, that should’ve never met. How were they different? Well, sometimes you could see a person’s memories on their face, their histories in their clothing, their deepest self in their airs.
Izaya Orihara was not too good-looking. He was pale, had that sick kind of nocturnal pallor of an aquatic lizard, of something amphibian. His build was shadowy and the way he moved incited danger; not in an exciting way, but in an anxiety-inducing, blatantly threatening way. He was always in an anxiety-inducing, blatantly threatening way, come to think of it. His face was round and wide, sort of like moon; both eyes slim and wide-apart with an eerie look of gentleness. Unfortunately he always looked best when he was being condescending. Unfortunately he wasn’t good looking but very attractive.
Shizuo Heiwajima, on the other hand, was quite the looker, had lotsa things Izaya didn’t: a fairly defined, assertive face; harmony in his features and expression; a healthy, strong build, made animal elegant with its length. Elegant in that way that bulls are, that machines are, with a hot breathing force, with indication of blood beneath muscle; muscle that was normally peaceful could tighten gear-precise with only a rise of feeling, a word taken the wrong way. The way his jawline would contemplate a cigarette was something nice. He decided in his early teens to start bleaching his hair, and that compounded the image.
"People who are always arguing," Shinra said once, completely genial behind everybody’s back as he usually was, "are said to be very close." He’d said it to both of them.
Shizuo’s reaction was of course to widen his eyes, so that the irises appeared smaller and more threatening- an expression, said, What the Hell did I just hear? Shinra answered by laughing and saying he meant no offense. Shizuo’s mouth twitched in dissatisfaction- like to say, You better not have. (Shinra was good at deciphering a person’s silence by now because of Celty.)
Izaya’s reaction cut to the core of the matter. "Shizu-chan’s just reactive. He’s just testosterone and chemicals. And personally, I’m," he continued (this was where the blade cut night into his acid smile), "not sure I like that kind of person." He sighed like it was just a matter of his judgment, just a matter he had to sort out and decide.
Izaya perceived everything that way- everything was up to him. Everything relied the movement of his fingers. Shizuo had never felt that privileged; in fact, at his lowest points, he often felt like he was just a foreigner from a cold land, living this life on some kind of quickly-expired working visa.
But it was very possible (Shinra often thought from the sidelines, because tho’ he wasn’t really of a poetic mind, he was certainly of an observant one) that together, their chaos turned to harmony; a certain kind of alchemic harmony. Maybe it had something to do with that they brought out each other’s true selves: the parasitic intellect and the body of the beast, the worst of human nature.
Or maybe he was being dramatic (he wondered that too; it wasn’t a doctor’s place to be so philosophical). Maybe he only thought that way because of how appealing it was visually: amber sunset, a fight on blasted city concrete- Shizuo charging in one long graceful movement...as though it was a choreographed dance, Izaya’s hand on the blade as fast as a bird- slashing, a couple of cuts along the cloth, revealing skin; undressing without touching him.
Romance wasn’t a doctor’s business, either.
title: Straight Gunblasting on Hope Highway
pairing(s)/character(s): Shinra, Celty; Shinra/Celty
rating: PG i think?
summary: She can't be tied by love because she exists in a different sphere than he; Shinra and Celty in love on different levels.
☆STRAIGHT GUNBLASTING ON HOPE HIGHWAY
He can’t possess her. That’s fine with him. He’s a doctor, not a lion tamer. He’s happy to smile even if he doesn’t know how much she loves him, or even if she does. What he wants is- is to maybe be important in her sphere; to have her stay.
Celty’s always, sure, whatever, how should I know? when it comes to loving matters, and always via electric buzz, which leaves him buzzing empty. Then she’s off again with the shadows from her mind pouring like a prayer into the midnight neon of the world above her, with her heart along the highway. In this fairly standard urban electricity live the souls of the loneliest city every sung; she can’t stop, she lives parallel to him but on a completely different level than he. Love don’t phase her none. No drug so heady can change her course. She’s riding, and other places in the city, life is turning, molding her road...body snatchers, cheap thrill catchers, the vultures of dead aspirations leeching people’s eyes away.
Shinra smiles to himself sometimes, pausing his work, wondering where she is in the city. Wondering other stuff, too. Which one of them is condemned? To what, exactly? To whom? Would he ever want to trade places with her?
Smoke rises; while by their apartment, the lights are still and escape like a dream, on the road they whip like stars or pepper in quick succession. While he’s pondering over a cup of tea, she’s gunblasting on a highway of hopes, straight down into destiny, cruising like a bullet. Almost exactly approximate to the feeling of love.
title: 11:59
pairing(s)/character(s): Mikado, Masaomi, Celty; no pairings
rating: PG
summary: Mikado and the Black Rider on his first night in a new city. Also, Masaomi, trufax, plays the smallest violin in the world.
☆11:59
Summer was still leftover in the air the night he saw the Black Rider; it was clinging to the night lights. Masaomi had been wide-eyed, slapping Mikado on the back- "Lucky! That’s lucky! An urban legend on your first night- you’re not so hopeless after all!"
"Cut it out," Mikado managed to laugh, although he was in a stupor from what he’d just seen.
"It’s your first night is all, all alone in this big city. Should I start singing the song? The song for the loneliest boy in the city?"
"Come on, man," Mikado laughed.
"Or, how about," Masaomi continued, rubbing his index finger and thumb together in a weepy, drawn-out manner, "The saddest song ever played by the tiniest violin in the world?"
"Man," Mikado shook his head.
"You can’t even hear it. It’s that small."
And while Mikado appreciated the clowning he couldn’t stop the ringing in his mind; Masaomi’s laugh was like a lull, was like a background hum to the sounds all around him. Subconscious thought came in dark waves, because after seeing that, he had to orient himself- he had to make sure that this wasn’t a dream.
On that night filled with the moon and wild foreign electricity, he was knocked two times breathless by the sight of a midnight rider speeding black as hot tar past his eyes. She was a shadow or a parkway. Her helmet glass reflected the light she passed, and her machine breathed just like a beast, hummed with blood deep in its throat. Everything glittered dizzily, rainbow off her as she passed. It was like inhaling the night all in one cool, fresh go; it was magic, in its rawest sense. This was the city that only needed to be breathed; this was the shining light that flickered and flashed before him, its taste on his tongue, its image teasing his hands.
That night he walked, feeling giddy and a little stupid for assuming it was a woman, feeling high or like a million bucks. Kicking cans that passed by, not pausing his dreams, not bothering to look anybody in their eyes- not looking for anything, because the image of the headless rider was still tingling in his blood. He was sure he’d remember it for- well, for however much forever he was allotted.
Maybe like finding for the first time that your voice means something; in that way, it was much more valuable than love at first sight.
title: Wagon Wheel
pairing(s)/character(s): Shizuo, Izaya; Shizuo/Izaya
rating: PG-13
summary: Shizuo can't help but feel that, in these repeated scenes, he's always the one losing.
☆WAGON WHEEL
Izaya disappears like smoke around a corner, around some brown brick baked corner; Shizuo’s breathing’s gone ragged by now, but he doesn’t feel it. Somewhere in the back of his mind- because, to be honest, he’s never thinking in the front of it- he feels like this is the fiftieth time around.
He’s always chasing Izaya, that rat, and he’s always the one losing. Ever since they met, ever since some cruel twist of fate had made Izaya an imposition on him, these things always ended in confusion for him- a mass, swallowing confusion that would ruin his days and kill his will. One time Izaya was in stitches because somebody in one of those cars that advertise energy drinks, big can and mascot and all, had hit Shizuo as he’d stood blind with anger in the middle of the street (having lost track of Izaya for a moment). Shizuo had gone rolling upwards of the windshield and then had slid off the side. Once Izaya was done laughing, he told the driver that he thought it was splendid that he was working for the benefit of the human race, and that he wanted him to do so every morning. And then proceeded to tip him ¥900. Shizuo had blanked out for a couple of minutes, but had gotten up in a flash of angry color- vision spiraling like pinwheel bruised, but as he looked around, he knew (like a dread dirge) that Izaya was nowhere to be found.
This time though, his effort wasn’t wasted- cutting a corner, close to the garbage cans, he manages to reach out and grab a fistful of Izaya’s coat. He jerks him forward- Izaya loses his balance, stumbles like he almost never does- and then Shizuo tosses him like a rag into the cans nearby. Izaya's up in a flash because nothing ever really hurts alley cats, but Shizuo's quick this time, and holds him fast.
Izaya’s knife is out in a blueshark flash, electric looking- the crest of a wave that cuts clean across; but it's only a surface wound that deflected off Shizuo's rage, and he quickly has Izaya disabled. "Looks like you’re in a bind, huh, you flea!" Shizuo says, words twisted by the bloody gargle in the back of his throat.
"Not in a bind at all, Shizu-chan, not in a bind at all," Izaya smiles. Despite his height, he can still look down on Shizuo. It must have been a gift, if an undeserved one.
"Really?" Shizuo asks, twisting Izaya’s arm back- slow, just slow- "You must be stupid-"
"Not so much, Shizu-chan. I think that’s you, in fact. Keep on twisting, it’ll only prove what I know about you."
"Ha! You know something about me, huh? You make me sick, well-"
"I know all about you-"
"I’m tired of hearing you talk shit-"
"Don’t worry, I don’t tell many people. You just want to live a quiet life; like everybody else," Izaya says, with that sneer that seems like a sick dog’s, "I’m right, huh? Man, that’s sad, I’m right. Can you even perceive me, Shizu-chan?"
Shizuo lands the first punch in a while, and for once it feels good to feel the pressure of his fist connecting like full-on obsidian, it feels good to crush something- "Don’t call me that, you slime-"
Izaya laughs wildly against the next blow; he struggles, and then informs him this ain’t fun anymore, so he’s cutting out- in a lucky movement (or maybe luck has nothing to do with it) he slashes upwards, and Shizuo can feel it scrape against his cheekbone. His vision bursts red and then black stars fall like banshee rain- but Izaya is off again, some pale blur with electric youth angles receding back into the filth of the city. Shizuo, for his part, can’t help but know in the back of his mind that he’s always the one losing- but what can he really do?
NOTES;;
wow when i'm not writing hetalia there are like no notes XD
yeah so this is like the first time i'm writing drrr!!, just playing around with shit i guess...oh about the shinra/celty one, i don't really perceive her as being yknow completely cold, but i was trying to look at the fact that love isn't exactly the center of her life, especially at this point in the anime.
also that last shizuo/izaya one was a lil bit bland :\ but whatever, i pretty much just wrote that because of that scene in the last episode where he tips that dude for running shizuo over XDD that made my entire night.
okay i'mma stop talking XD
edit; LOL FIXED TENSE FAIL SORRY
thanks for reading! :D
title: Opposites/Doctor's Business
pairing(s)/character(s): Shinra, Shizuo, Izaya; Shizuo/Izaya
rating: PG-13
summary: Shinra contemplates Shizuo and Izaya, two opposite beings existing in chaotic harmony.
☆OPPOSITES/DOCTOR'S BUSINESS
They were very different, and because Shinra was easy to smile and hard to offend, he got along with them both. It was always interesting to him- the way they crashed like two neon lights that should have always been parallel, that should’ve never met. How were they different? Well, sometimes you could see a person’s memories on their face, their histories in their clothing, their deepest self in their airs.
Izaya Orihara was not too good-looking. He was pale, had that sick kind of nocturnal pallor of an aquatic lizard, of something amphibian. His build was shadowy and the way he moved incited danger; not in an exciting way, but in an anxiety-inducing, blatantly threatening way. He was always in an anxiety-inducing, blatantly threatening way, come to think of it. His face was round and wide, sort of like moon; both eyes slim and wide-apart with an eerie look of gentleness. Unfortunately he always looked best when he was being condescending. Unfortunately he wasn’t good looking but very attractive.
Shizuo Heiwajima, on the other hand, was quite the looker, had lotsa things Izaya didn’t: a fairly defined, assertive face; harmony in his features and expression; a healthy, strong build, made animal elegant with its length. Elegant in that way that bulls are, that machines are, with a hot breathing force, with indication of blood beneath muscle; muscle that was normally peaceful could tighten gear-precise with only a rise of feeling, a word taken the wrong way. The way his jawline would contemplate a cigarette was something nice. He decided in his early teens to start bleaching his hair, and that compounded the image.
"People who are always arguing," Shinra said once, completely genial behind everybody’s back as he usually was, "are said to be very close." He’d said it to both of them.
Shizuo’s reaction was of course to widen his eyes, so that the irises appeared smaller and more threatening- an expression, said, What the Hell did I just hear? Shinra answered by laughing and saying he meant no offense. Shizuo’s mouth twitched in dissatisfaction- like to say, You better not have. (Shinra was good at deciphering a person’s silence by now because of Celty.)
Izaya’s reaction cut to the core of the matter. "Shizu-chan’s just reactive. He’s just testosterone and chemicals. And personally, I’m," he continued (this was where the blade cut night into his acid smile), "not sure I like that kind of person." He sighed like it was just a matter of his judgment, just a matter he had to sort out and decide.
Izaya perceived everything that way- everything was up to him. Everything relied the movement of his fingers. Shizuo had never felt that privileged; in fact, at his lowest points, he often felt like he was just a foreigner from a cold land, living this life on some kind of quickly-expired working visa.
But it was very possible (Shinra often thought from the sidelines, because tho’ he wasn’t really of a poetic mind, he was certainly of an observant one) that together, their chaos turned to harmony; a certain kind of alchemic harmony. Maybe it had something to do with that they brought out each other’s true selves: the parasitic intellect and the body of the beast, the worst of human nature.
Or maybe he was being dramatic (he wondered that too; it wasn’t a doctor’s place to be so philosophical). Maybe he only thought that way because of how appealing it was visually: amber sunset, a fight on blasted city concrete- Shizuo charging in one long graceful movement...as though it was a choreographed dance, Izaya’s hand on the blade as fast as a bird- slashing, a couple of cuts along the cloth, revealing skin; undressing without touching him.
Romance wasn’t a doctor’s business, either.
title: Straight Gunblasting on Hope Highway
pairing(s)/character(s): Shinra, Celty; Shinra/Celty
rating: PG i think?
summary: She can't be tied by love because she exists in a different sphere than he; Shinra and Celty in love on different levels.
☆STRAIGHT GUNBLASTING ON HOPE HIGHWAY
He can’t possess her. That’s fine with him. He’s a doctor, not a lion tamer. He’s happy to smile even if he doesn’t know how much she loves him, or even if she does. What he wants is- is to maybe be important in her sphere; to have her stay.
Celty’s always, sure, whatever, how should I know? when it comes to loving matters, and always via electric buzz, which leaves him buzzing empty. Then she’s off again with the shadows from her mind pouring like a prayer into the midnight neon of the world above her, with her heart along the highway. In this fairly standard urban electricity live the souls of the loneliest city every sung; she can’t stop, she lives parallel to him but on a completely different level than he. Love don’t phase her none. No drug so heady can change her course. She’s riding, and other places in the city, life is turning, molding her road...body snatchers, cheap thrill catchers, the vultures of dead aspirations leeching people’s eyes away.
Shinra smiles to himself sometimes, pausing his work, wondering where she is in the city. Wondering other stuff, too. Which one of them is condemned? To what, exactly? To whom? Would he ever want to trade places with her?
Smoke rises; while by their apartment, the lights are still and escape like a dream, on the road they whip like stars or pepper in quick succession. While he’s pondering over a cup of tea, she’s gunblasting on a highway of hopes, straight down into destiny, cruising like a bullet. Almost exactly approximate to the feeling of love.
title: 11:59
pairing(s)/character(s): Mikado, Masaomi, Celty; no pairings
rating: PG
summary: Mikado and the Black Rider on his first night in a new city. Also, Masaomi, trufax, plays the smallest violin in the world.
☆11:59
Summer was still leftover in the air the night he saw the Black Rider; it was clinging to the night lights. Masaomi had been wide-eyed, slapping Mikado on the back- "Lucky! That’s lucky! An urban legend on your first night- you’re not so hopeless after all!"
"Cut it out," Mikado managed to laugh, although he was in a stupor from what he’d just seen.
"It’s your first night is all, all alone in this big city. Should I start singing the song? The song for the loneliest boy in the city?"
"Come on, man," Mikado laughed.
"Or, how about," Masaomi continued, rubbing his index finger and thumb together in a weepy, drawn-out manner, "The saddest song ever played by the tiniest violin in the world?"
"Man," Mikado shook his head.
"You can’t even hear it. It’s that small."
And while Mikado appreciated the clowning he couldn’t stop the ringing in his mind; Masaomi’s laugh was like a lull, was like a background hum to the sounds all around him. Subconscious thought came in dark waves, because after seeing that, he had to orient himself- he had to make sure that this wasn’t a dream.
On that night filled with the moon and wild foreign electricity, he was knocked two times breathless by the sight of a midnight rider speeding black as hot tar past his eyes. She was a shadow or a parkway. Her helmet glass reflected the light she passed, and her machine breathed just like a beast, hummed with blood deep in its throat. Everything glittered dizzily, rainbow off her as she passed. It was like inhaling the night all in one cool, fresh go; it was magic, in its rawest sense. This was the city that only needed to be breathed; this was the shining light that flickered and flashed before him, its taste on his tongue, its image teasing his hands.
That night he walked, feeling giddy and a little stupid for assuming it was a woman, feeling high or like a million bucks. Kicking cans that passed by, not pausing his dreams, not bothering to look anybody in their eyes- not looking for anything, because the image of the headless rider was still tingling in his blood. He was sure he’d remember it for- well, for however much forever he was allotted.
Maybe like finding for the first time that your voice means something; in that way, it was much more valuable than love at first sight.
title: Wagon Wheel
pairing(s)/character(s): Shizuo, Izaya; Shizuo/Izaya
rating: PG-13
summary: Shizuo can't help but feel that, in these repeated scenes, he's always the one losing.
☆WAGON WHEEL
Izaya disappears like smoke around a corner, around some brown brick baked corner; Shizuo’s breathing’s gone ragged by now, but he doesn’t feel it. Somewhere in the back of his mind- because, to be honest, he’s never thinking in the front of it- he feels like this is the fiftieth time around.
He’s always chasing Izaya, that rat, and he’s always the one losing. Ever since they met, ever since some cruel twist of fate had made Izaya an imposition on him, these things always ended in confusion for him- a mass, swallowing confusion that would ruin his days and kill his will. One time Izaya was in stitches because somebody in one of those cars that advertise energy drinks, big can and mascot and all, had hit Shizuo as he’d stood blind with anger in the middle of the street (having lost track of Izaya for a moment). Shizuo had gone rolling upwards of the windshield and then had slid off the side. Once Izaya was done laughing, he told the driver that he thought it was splendid that he was working for the benefit of the human race, and that he wanted him to do so every morning. And then proceeded to tip him ¥900. Shizuo had blanked out for a couple of minutes, but had gotten up in a flash of angry color- vision spiraling like pinwheel bruised, but as he looked around, he knew (like a dread dirge) that Izaya was nowhere to be found.
This time though, his effort wasn’t wasted- cutting a corner, close to the garbage cans, he manages to reach out and grab a fistful of Izaya’s coat. He jerks him forward- Izaya loses his balance, stumbles like he almost never does- and then Shizuo tosses him like a rag into the cans nearby. Izaya's up in a flash because nothing ever really hurts alley cats, but Shizuo's quick this time, and holds him fast.
Izaya’s knife is out in a blueshark flash, electric looking- the crest of a wave that cuts clean across; but it's only a surface wound that deflected off Shizuo's rage, and he quickly has Izaya disabled. "Looks like you’re in a bind, huh, you flea!" Shizuo says, words twisted by the bloody gargle in the back of his throat.
"Not in a bind at all, Shizu-chan, not in a bind at all," Izaya smiles. Despite his height, he can still look down on Shizuo. It must have been a gift, if an undeserved one.
"Really?" Shizuo asks, twisting Izaya’s arm back- slow, just slow- "You must be stupid-"
"Not so much, Shizu-chan. I think that’s you, in fact. Keep on twisting, it’ll only prove what I know about you."
"Ha! You know something about me, huh? You make me sick, well-"
"I know all about you-"
"I’m tired of hearing you talk shit-"
"Don’t worry, I don’t tell many people. You just want to live a quiet life; like everybody else," Izaya says, with that sneer that seems like a sick dog’s, "I’m right, huh? Man, that’s sad, I’m right. Can you even perceive me, Shizu-chan?"
Shizuo lands the first punch in a while, and for once it feels good to feel the pressure of his fist connecting like full-on obsidian, it feels good to crush something- "Don’t call me that, you slime-"
Izaya laughs wildly against the next blow; he struggles, and then informs him this ain’t fun anymore, so he’s cutting out- in a lucky movement (or maybe luck has nothing to do with it) he slashes upwards, and Shizuo can feel it scrape against his cheekbone. His vision bursts red and then black stars fall like banshee rain- but Izaya is off again, some pale blur with electric youth angles receding back into the filth of the city. Shizuo, for his part, can’t help but know in the back of his mind that he’s always the one losing- but what can he really do?
NOTES;;
wow when i'm not writing hetalia there are like no notes XD
yeah so this is like the first time i'm writing drrr!!, just playing around with shit i guess...oh about the shinra/celty one, i don't really perceive her as being yknow completely cold, but i was trying to look at the fact that love isn't exactly the center of her life, especially at this point in the anime.
also that last shizuo/izaya one was a lil bit bland :\ but whatever, i pretty much just wrote that because of that scene in the last episode where he tips that dude for running shizuo over XDD that made my entire night.
okay i'mma stop talking XD
edit; LOL FIXED TENSE FAIL SORRY
thanks for reading! :D