meme fic part 2
Drabbles (part 2) from the meme post (which was like half a year ago XD;):
For blauerschnee: FMA | Ed & Al - Elrics on a mission
“Brother,” Al said, his voice tinny with displeasure (as expressive as it could be, at least). “I’m not sure that this is what the colonel meant when he said to scout out the area.”
“What?” Ed snapped under his breath. “Look, we’re already really conspicuous. A suit of armor and a bloody State Alchemist, right? So we might as well make everyone like us and scout out the place through gossip.”
Al wondered if he should point out that he didn’t have to accompany Ed in the first place, and that Ed could’ve just taken off his Really Conspicuous red cloak and worn a long-sleeved shirt and gloves to conceal his metal arm-then he could have just passed as an ordinary worker, disgruntled about the (possibly, most likely) corrupted supervisor of the nearby mills. But this had not happened; so a suit of armor and a red-cloaked State Alchemist sat in a bar, one seemingly expressionless and the other loud and talkative (and pretending to be more and more drunk). There was also an increasing number of people hanging around them, their wariness dissipating as the alcohol took effect. “The colonel didn’t mean for you to get drunk,” he muttered.
“I’m not really drinking,” Ed hissed back at him. “You know I’m transmuting it to water.”
“Yeah, I know.” Actually, he wasn’t that sure. Ed was sneaky like that. Al glanced at the others. “But he’s not going to be pleased to cover military expenses which result from buying everyone five rounds of drinks.”
“It’s all-all in the name of wooorrrrk,” Ed slurred, and slung an arm around one of the mill workers; winked at Al quickly. “That head guy-Watkins, right?-ran into him today-what a bastard-“
Five rounds of drinks and counting, Al thought wearily.
For industrialgirl1: Hikaru no Go | Hikaru & Ko Yongha - post-Hokuto-Cup
He’s still got the long hair, Hikaru notes sourly.
With the innocent look of one who insults Shuusaku and doesn’t care, Ko Yongha gives the crowd of reporters a blank smile as they surround him. Why has he chosen to visit Japan? What were his feelings on the Hokuto Cup win just a few months previous? What is your opinion of go?
Stupid questions, obviously. He came to Japan because he wanted to gloat, he’s plainly happy that he won the Hokuto Cup, and go may be cool but he thinks Shuusaku isn’t that good. Hikaru mentally answers the questions for Ko Yongha, even as he stands with Waya and pretends that he’s totally not there.
“Er, Shindou?” Waya frowns. “You’re being really obvious about this.”
“I’m not being obvious about anything.” Hikaru crosses his arms.
(The last time he faced Ko Yongha, he could not live up to Sai. He couldn’t play well enough for Sai, to uphold the name of Shuusaku-who-was-Sai against another’s dismissal. This is why he cannot forgive Ko Yongha, for being the one to sit across from him at that game. Not yet.)
Waya looks at Hikaru for a long moment, then says, “Let’s go for ramen. I’ll pay.”
Hikaru blinks. “Huh?” Waya has never given in to eating ramen without proposing sushi or something else first.
“If you’re going to talk to him-you’ll have to, sooner or later-you might as well do it on a full stomach,” Waya says, and the corners of his mouth turn up. “Fewer butterflies, you know. And don’t worry, it’s a secret with me.”
“I-what? Waya, what the hell do you mean?”
For ipsius: Bleach | Orihime & Ulquiorra - putting the dead to rest
She did this for Grimmjow; she can do this again. “I’m sorry,” she murmurs; her fingers tremble like the fluttering of fairies’ wings. “I should have done this earlier.”
Ishida’s face softens; he looks not at his hand-which-was-and-now-is-again, slowly emerging from nonexistence, but at Orihime. “Don’t apologize,” he tells her-but Orihime turns her gaze away from the kindness in his eyes, the kindness in his voice. She does not like to think that it comes from pity, or from something else.
“Don’t say that,” she says abruptly, and directs Ayame and Shun’o to his stomach. Still bleeding, where-she half-wishes she could reject what happened, half-wishes she could reject herself. Kurosaki-kun was the one who struck Ishida here, and she was the one who asked for Kurosaki-kun to help. She should not have asked, Orihime thinks dully. She should not have asked.
And now Kurosaki-kun has left, to go fight again. You have begun to like fighting too much, Orihime wants to say to him, but her voice fails her. Who is she to say this, if she cannot say to herself that she has failed?-failed to protect her friends, her precious friends who have always protected her. And now Ishida has lost his hand-her healing cannot make up for the fact that it happened in the first place, even as her rejection makes it rebuild itself again. And somewhere behind her lie scattered ashes.
I’m sorry, she repeats silently. It is my fault. He would call her weak. Weak, for always saying that, for having the grounds to say that. He would call her weak. He was cruel.
But sometimes-sometimes, Orihime knows, he told the truth.
She releases a breath and helps Ishida up. “You are okay?” she asks; “I feel fine,” he tells her, quickly and reassuringly. “Everything’s fine.”
Orihime looks at him and does not smile. “Yes,” she says. “I would say that.” She turns and walks a few paces away; kneels with her palms pressed against the ground, her palms pressed as she would against her many shields. There is no evidence that someone once stood here.
Reject, she tells Ulquiorra in her mind. Reject.
“We should go and help,” Ishida tells her, grasping her left elbow as she stands, turning her around. “I’ll take us down.”
Orihime slowly nods her head once, then again. “All right,” she says. She reaches up to touch her hairpins and smiles tiredly. “Let’s do. Tsubaki is getting impatient.”
Somewhere behind her lie scattered ashes. (And perhaps, she thinks, there lies a heart.)
And oh forgive me Fanfic Gods for this travesty of a drabble--it includes a vilified OC, travel from the real world into a fictional universe, and rampant OOC-ness--but the awesome crack Could Not Be Denied after a certain convo thread. So, for shaitanah: Naruto | lol!pseudo-OC & Akatsuki - an unexpected addition to the Jyuubi
She wants to burrow into her bed and put a pillow over her head and pretend this never happened.
Except it did, and bed is now a hard floor and there are no pillow and she has no idea what happened. Only that she had been going to give cookies to her Spanish professor and had been feeling grumpy because he still wouldn’t let them out early even though she’d already stopped by and played up teacher’s pet and dear god I need shampoo.
Something six-legged and bearing resemblance to an insect-except more hairy, oh my god so disgusting-skitters across the ground. She squeaks and scurries back.
And so she had been feeling alternately annoyed and gleeful that finally, she might get out of the class with minimal work and with an A, if she just played her cards right-she always did, she was good at this, and too bad for the people who couldn’t figure out that being nice was so much more important than doing the work-and then she’d blanked out, and the next thing she knew a group of cult members were standing around her, wearing the most tacky red and black cloaks. And nail polish.
“… this is not one of the tailed demons,” one of them had said thoughtfully.
Demons?
“Curious,” the one who seemed to be the leader said. “But it can be used, nonetheless.”
At which point she’d managed to get to her feet and snap, “Hey, who the hell are you guys, and-“ she saw the empty tray nearby “-you ate my cookies?” In retrospect, screaming at her captors for eating her cookies wasn’t the best idea; she doesn’t want to get knocked out again. Not by them. She still doesn’t know who they are and what they’re planning to do and how she got here.
She wraps her arms tightly around herself and shivers.
(Outside, Kisame and Itachi stroll by. “That’s an interesting case,” Kisame says. “It doesn’t look like the demon’s sealed in her.”
“No,” Itachi replies thoughtfully. “The demon and the container have an unusually symbiotic relationship.” He activates his Sharingan. “The demon seems to have been… created in an unusual fashion.”
“Care to elaborate?”
“… I have never seen a demon based upon action.”
“Action?”
“A demon of bribery.”
“... you think we can make it believe we’ll let it go if it bribes us with cookies?”
“…”
“Itachi-san, those cookies were good.”)
/crack
... also, I nearly read pseudo-OC as pedo-OC. Hmmm.
In other news, I am glorifying in the beauty that is the multi-fandom fic exchange Yuletide 2009. Way too many awesome fics in neglected fandoms; I will probably put up recs sometime in the future (I have already bookmarked too many ;_______;). However, rec posts are already showing up at yuletide. ;)
Also going on a family trip to California on the 31st for one & a half weeks--don't know how much internet access I'll have, but I'll try to be around LJ when I can.
For blauerschnee: FMA | Ed & Al - Elrics on a mission
“Brother,” Al said, his voice tinny with displeasure (as expressive as it could be, at least). “I’m not sure that this is what the colonel meant when he said to scout out the area.”
“What?” Ed snapped under his breath. “Look, we’re already really conspicuous. A suit of armor and a bloody State Alchemist, right? So we might as well make everyone like us and scout out the place through gossip.”
Al wondered if he should point out that he didn’t have to accompany Ed in the first place, and that Ed could’ve just taken off his Really Conspicuous red cloak and worn a long-sleeved shirt and gloves to conceal his metal arm-then he could have just passed as an ordinary worker, disgruntled about the (possibly, most likely) corrupted supervisor of the nearby mills. But this had not happened; so a suit of armor and a red-cloaked State Alchemist sat in a bar, one seemingly expressionless and the other loud and talkative (and pretending to be more and more drunk). There was also an increasing number of people hanging around them, their wariness dissipating as the alcohol took effect. “The colonel didn’t mean for you to get drunk,” he muttered.
“I’m not really drinking,” Ed hissed back at him. “You know I’m transmuting it to water.”
“Yeah, I know.” Actually, he wasn’t that sure. Ed was sneaky like that. Al glanced at the others. “But he’s not going to be pleased to cover military expenses which result from buying everyone five rounds of drinks.”
“It’s all-all in the name of wooorrrrk,” Ed slurred, and slung an arm around one of the mill workers; winked at Al quickly. “That head guy-Watkins, right?-ran into him today-what a bastard-“
Five rounds of drinks and counting, Al thought wearily.
For industrialgirl1: Hikaru no Go | Hikaru & Ko Yongha - post-Hokuto-Cup
He’s still got the long hair, Hikaru notes sourly.
With the innocent look of one who insults Shuusaku and doesn’t care, Ko Yongha gives the crowd of reporters a blank smile as they surround him. Why has he chosen to visit Japan? What were his feelings on the Hokuto Cup win just a few months previous? What is your opinion of go?
Stupid questions, obviously. He came to Japan because he wanted to gloat, he’s plainly happy that he won the Hokuto Cup, and go may be cool but he thinks Shuusaku isn’t that good. Hikaru mentally answers the questions for Ko Yongha, even as he stands with Waya and pretends that he’s totally not there.
“Er, Shindou?” Waya frowns. “You’re being really obvious about this.”
“I’m not being obvious about anything.” Hikaru crosses his arms.
(The last time he faced Ko Yongha, he could not live up to Sai. He couldn’t play well enough for Sai, to uphold the name of Shuusaku-who-was-Sai against another’s dismissal. This is why he cannot forgive Ko Yongha, for being the one to sit across from him at that game. Not yet.)
Waya looks at Hikaru for a long moment, then says, “Let’s go for ramen. I’ll pay.”
Hikaru blinks. “Huh?” Waya has never given in to eating ramen without proposing sushi or something else first.
“If you’re going to talk to him-you’ll have to, sooner or later-you might as well do it on a full stomach,” Waya says, and the corners of his mouth turn up. “Fewer butterflies, you know. And don’t worry, it’s a secret with me.”
“I-what? Waya, what the hell do you mean?”
For ipsius: Bleach | Orihime & Ulquiorra - putting the dead to rest
She did this for Grimmjow; she can do this again. “I’m sorry,” she murmurs; her fingers tremble like the fluttering of fairies’ wings. “I should have done this earlier.”
Ishida’s face softens; he looks not at his hand-which-was-and-now-is-again, slowly emerging from nonexistence, but at Orihime. “Don’t apologize,” he tells her-but Orihime turns her gaze away from the kindness in his eyes, the kindness in his voice. She does not like to think that it comes from pity, or from something else.
“Don’t say that,” she says abruptly, and directs Ayame and Shun’o to his stomach. Still bleeding, where-she half-wishes she could reject what happened, half-wishes she could reject herself. Kurosaki-kun was the one who struck Ishida here, and she was the one who asked for Kurosaki-kun to help. She should not have asked, Orihime thinks dully. She should not have asked.
And now Kurosaki-kun has left, to go fight again. You have begun to like fighting too much, Orihime wants to say to him, but her voice fails her. Who is she to say this, if she cannot say to herself that she has failed?-failed to protect her friends, her precious friends who have always protected her. And now Ishida has lost his hand-her healing cannot make up for the fact that it happened in the first place, even as her rejection makes it rebuild itself again. And somewhere behind her lie scattered ashes.
I’m sorry, she repeats silently. It is my fault. He would call her weak. Weak, for always saying that, for having the grounds to say that. He would call her weak. He was cruel.
But sometimes-sometimes, Orihime knows, he told the truth.
She releases a breath and helps Ishida up. “You are okay?” she asks; “I feel fine,” he tells her, quickly and reassuringly. “Everything’s fine.”
Orihime looks at him and does not smile. “Yes,” she says. “I would say that.” She turns and walks a few paces away; kneels with her palms pressed against the ground, her palms pressed as she would against her many shields. There is no evidence that someone once stood here.
Reject, she tells Ulquiorra in her mind. Reject.
“We should go and help,” Ishida tells her, grasping her left elbow as she stands, turning her around. “I’ll take us down.”
Orihime slowly nods her head once, then again. “All right,” she says. She reaches up to touch her hairpins and smiles tiredly. “Let’s do. Tsubaki is getting impatient.”
Somewhere behind her lie scattered ashes. (And perhaps, she thinks, there lies a heart.)
And oh forgive me Fanfic Gods for this travesty of a drabble--it includes a vilified OC, travel from the real world into a fictional universe, and rampant OOC-ness--but the awesome crack Could Not Be Denied after a certain convo thread. So, for shaitanah: Naruto | lol!pseudo-OC & Akatsuki - an unexpected addition to the Jyuubi
She wants to burrow into her bed and put a pillow over her head and pretend this never happened.
Except it did, and bed is now a hard floor and there are no pillow and she has no idea what happened. Only that she had been going to give cookies to her Spanish professor and had been feeling grumpy because he still wouldn’t let them out early even though she’d already stopped by and played up teacher’s pet and dear god I need shampoo.
Something six-legged and bearing resemblance to an insect-except more hairy, oh my god so disgusting-skitters across the ground. She squeaks and scurries back.
And so she had been feeling alternately annoyed and gleeful that finally, she might get out of the class with minimal work and with an A, if she just played her cards right-she always did, she was good at this, and too bad for the people who couldn’t figure out that being nice was so much more important than doing the work-and then she’d blanked out, and the next thing she knew a group of cult members were standing around her, wearing the most tacky red and black cloaks. And nail polish.
“… this is not one of the tailed demons,” one of them had said thoughtfully.
Demons?
“Curious,” the one who seemed to be the leader said. “But it can be used, nonetheless.”
At which point she’d managed to get to her feet and snap, “Hey, who the hell are you guys, and-“ she saw the empty tray nearby “-you ate my cookies?” In retrospect, screaming at her captors for eating her cookies wasn’t the best idea; she doesn’t want to get knocked out again. Not by them. She still doesn’t know who they are and what they’re planning to do and how she got here.
She wraps her arms tightly around herself and shivers.
(Outside, Kisame and Itachi stroll by. “That’s an interesting case,” Kisame says. “It doesn’t look like the demon’s sealed in her.”
“No,” Itachi replies thoughtfully. “The demon and the container have an unusually symbiotic relationship.” He activates his Sharingan. “The demon seems to have been… created in an unusual fashion.”
“Care to elaborate?”
“… I have never seen a demon based upon action.”
“Action?”
“A demon of bribery.”
“... you think we can make it believe we’ll let it go if it bribes us with cookies?”
“…”
“Itachi-san, those cookies were good.”)
/crack
... also, I nearly read pseudo-OC as pedo-OC. Hmmm.
In other news, I am glorifying in the beauty that is the multi-fandom fic exchange Yuletide 2009. Way too many awesome fics in neglected fandoms; I will probably put up recs sometime in the future (I have already bookmarked too many ;_______;). However, rec posts are already showing up at yuletide. ;)
Also going on a family trip to California on the 31st for one & a half weeks--don't know how much internet access I'll have, but I'll try to be around LJ when I can.