(no subject)
I come bearing those ficlets that people requested last week. I hope you like them. In order, under the following cuts:
Envy talking to a cookie for sleepyfluffzzz:
~~~~~~~~~~
Temptation
Envy paced back and forth in the kitchen, glaring at a fixed point on the counter, and not breaking eye contact, even when he turned to stalk in the opposite direction. "It's not going to work, you know," he growled, breaking the silence in which he'd been brooding for the better part of a half an hour. "I have better self-control than you might think."
The words seemed more an attempt to reassure himself, though, and there was no response to them. "Don't even think I'm not on to your plan. But Greed will be pissed. I can't do it."
Inhuman violet eyes became almost desperate, as there was still no response. "Stop looking at me like that," he nearly begged. "I told you no."
It was a massive chocolate cookie, imbedded with large chunks of fudge, and was nearly the size of the plate it was sitting on. It had been one of a pair that Envy had baked earlier that day, but the homunculus had already eaten the first one, and this second one had been intended for Greed.
It was taunting him, though. The pressure was horrible. It seemed to be crooning a siren's song. 'What Greed doesn't know won't hurt him,' and 'He didn't know there would be a cookie waiting for him, so why save me for him?' were the sorts of things it was practically whispering into his ear.
The first cookie had been so good. Envy wanted more. He paced the kitchen with even more agitation than before, glaring daggers at the cookie as it taunted him. It really wasn't fair that it looked so delicious.
Finally, Envy realized what he needed to do. Picking up the plastic-wrapped plate like it was diseased, he opened a cupboard and shoved it in, slamming the door with a certain degree of satisfaction. Out of sight, out of mind. He would be safe from the cookie until Greed came home later, to eat it.
~~~~~~~~~~
Myself as a cat, playing chess with the 'cheshire kitty twins' for dee_um_ee_um_el:
~~~~~~~~~~
A Game of Chess
Edward had decided it might be better if he didn't know what was going on. He was sitting in a magnificent garden opposite two young…people (for lack of a better term) playing chess, of all things. He had no idea how he'd gotten there, and no memory of starting the game, which appeared to have been going on for quite a while; he was losing horribly. However, none of these things worried Edward half so much as the fact that, at some point along the line, he had sprouted cat ears and tail, and his hands and feet had morphed into enormous paws. He noted idly that the same had happened to the two boys across the board from him, but they seemed hardly discomfited at all with the change.
"Knight to E4," they recited in unison as they made their move, not even consulting one another first.
Edward was even more unnerved. Twins really weren't natural, and these two especially. He looked down at the board when their eyes locked on him expectantly. Had he been mad? His gaze darkened. Surely he hadn't made these moves. Which fool had been playing this board before him? The game was utterly unsalvageable. It didn't matter anyway, so the blonde made a hasty move with one of his rooks and hit the timer.
"You know-" began the twin on Edward's right.
"You could at least-" interjected his brother.
"Try," finished the first.
"You haven't made this-"
"Much of a challenge."
"We're."
"Bored."
Edward had been so fascinated with the twins' ability to finish each other's sentences that he hadn't picked up on the sense of impending doom that their words really should have triggered. He watched as the two grinned like Cheshire cats and shared a Look, but by the time he'd realized what was going to happen, it was already far too late.
For someone with various cat-parts, Edward's reaction time was remarkably slow. The chess board went flying as the twins pounced, and he thought he'd felt two mouths on his neck before everything went black.
Edward awoke in a cold sweat, and it took him a moment to realize he was in his bed. It took several more moments to realize that his body parts were all human (or at least human-like). When he was finally completely coherent, he had only one thing to say. "What the fuck was that?"
~~~~~~~~~~
Kyouya (from Diabolo) dying horribly for sexy_and_skorty:
~~~~~~~~~~
Eighteen
That bitch… They'd been in the same boat, after all: former members of the group of Six Great Spirits who had lost their powers. Fleurety, or no, Tsukiko had gotten frightened, however. Despite the fact that Mio's plan had been thwarted, normal people didn't know that. The veritable witch-hunt of seventeen-year-olds had continued unabated.
The two of them had found what had appeared to be a safe-house for persecuted teenagers, and had been living there together for almost a week. And now this. Were they paranoid, or merely blood-thirsty, to have come in a group of four? One look at the hungry, eager expressions on the adults' faces, and Kyouya knew the truth to be the latter option.
He was backed into a corner, surrounded by three middle-aged men and a woman who looked barely older than he was; Kyouya knew he was trapped. Despite that, he was calm, his heart rate normal, his expression serene. He wouldn't fight back - what could he hope to do against four opponents without a weapon or his powers? - but he wouldn't give them the satisfaction of hearing him scream.
A sense of detachment washed over him as the first knife sank into his belly. He could feel the warm pooling of blood as it drenched his shirt and jeans, agony radiating like fire from the wound, but it was as if he were watching the whole ordeal as a bystander, someone utterly separate from the inexplicable display of violence.
The woman, especially, seemed manic, desperate for his pain. As Kyouya sagged to the floor, she swooped down like some deranged vulture, pulled a man's straight razor from her pocket and, cackling madly, proceeded to disfigure his face.
It was the exquisitely sharp variety of face pain he'd never been able to master, and he emitted an agonized hiss as she crisscrossed deep slashes across his cheeks. It was a sharp blade, but that didn't help. The pain was excruciating as she sliced through the bridge of his nose.
Kyouya was no longer even capable of cataloguing the rest of his injuries as a hot wash of blood flowed down the back of his throat. It tickled, vaguely, and he coughed, a fine mist of crimson staining the female assailant's face. He knew it was a mad thought, but the young man decided that she looked wildly beautiful like that: some fierce Amazon as she gouged chunks of flesh from his face.
Vision hazy, Kyouya finally managed to separate himself from the pain, though he no longer had the sense to understand why that was. An overwhelming sense of peace stole through him as his surroundings went black, the image of the woman's manic face, spattered with blood, burned into his mind with some sense of nostalgia.
His last, incomprehensible thought: At least I made it to my eighteenth birthday…
~~~~~~~~~~
Lastly, Hinamori/Aizen fluff for loyalfukutaicho:
~~~~~~~~~~
House-warming
Hinamori smiled as she carried the final box into her new home. She couldn't remember a time she'd been happier. Perhaps when she'd been assigned vice-captain under Captain Aizen, but the two were very close. Her eyes invariably swept over to the man in question and softened; he was bent down, inspecting the contents of a different box, trying to decide where it should go.
It was certainly not unexpected for captains and vice-captains to develop close relationships. After all, there was nary a person either spent more time with, in any case. However, and Hinamori's expression darkened imperceptibly as the thought that had been recurring to her for days returned en force, it was not common at all for captains and vice-captains to grow so close as she and Aizen had. After all, close really was just a euphemism.
The female shinigami reddened unconsciously and turned to another of the boxes as she felt rather than saw her lover focus his attention on her. "Is something troubling you?" Perhaps he knew her too well…
She looked over at the man and found him watching her. Despite her concerns, Hinamori's smile for him was genuine, unforced. "Of course. Where are we going to put everything? Surely there's no space for it all!" Her answer to his question and the statements after it were, of course, unrelated, though it had sounded good. Aizen gave a slight nod, and she turned back to the box, picking through its contents and setting aside certain items which could not be placed in storage. Hinamori was taken completely by surprise when she felt him, very close behind her, and she rose, turning quickly to face him.
This had been exactly what the man had been anticipating, and he took the opportunity to wrap his arms around her, drawing her close. "You can't fool me." His tone was warm and affectionate, free of accusation. A smile curved Aizen's lips as he watched his lover turn a delicate and lovely shade of pink. "You didn't expect me to believe you were only concerned with the packing, either," he informed her a moment later.
"There are no rules against 'fraternization.'" Aizen grinned at the look of mingled shock and embarrassment that stole over Hinamori's face. "Besides, which of our peers do you really think isn't expecting something like this?"
His voice was so calm and reasonable… The woman relaxed in his arms, pressed her head to his chest. It was things like this that made her love him. She wasn't one for sweeping, dramatic gestures, and, well, Aizen didn't really seem the type for them either. The simple things: a warm voice, strong arms, that tiny dimple at the side of his mouth when he smiled at her that no one else had looked at closely enough to notice…those were what were important.
"We don't even have to tell them, do we?" A tiny, almost mischievious smile had crept onto her face. "They've figured it out ages ago…"
Aizen smirked. "I imagine you're right." He leaned in and pressed a long, slow kiss to that impertinent mouth. He noted her breathlessness with pleasure when they parted. His own expression had become distinctly playful. "However, for formality sake, let's tell them anyway, shall we?"
~~~~~~~~~~
Anyway, I hope you like them.
Envy talking to a cookie for sleepyfluffzzz:
~~~~~~~~~~
Temptation
Envy paced back and forth in the kitchen, glaring at a fixed point on the counter, and not breaking eye contact, even when he turned to stalk in the opposite direction. "It's not going to work, you know," he growled, breaking the silence in which he'd been brooding for the better part of a half an hour. "I have better self-control than you might think."
The words seemed more an attempt to reassure himself, though, and there was no response to them. "Don't even think I'm not on to your plan. But Greed will be pissed. I can't do it."
Inhuman violet eyes became almost desperate, as there was still no response. "Stop looking at me like that," he nearly begged. "I told you no."
It was a massive chocolate cookie, imbedded with large chunks of fudge, and was nearly the size of the plate it was sitting on. It had been one of a pair that Envy had baked earlier that day, but the homunculus had already eaten the first one, and this second one had been intended for Greed.
It was taunting him, though. The pressure was horrible. It seemed to be crooning a siren's song. 'What Greed doesn't know won't hurt him,' and 'He didn't know there would be a cookie waiting for him, so why save me for him?' were the sorts of things it was practically whispering into his ear.
The first cookie had been so good. Envy wanted more. He paced the kitchen with even more agitation than before, glaring daggers at the cookie as it taunted him. It really wasn't fair that it looked so delicious.
Finally, Envy realized what he needed to do. Picking up the plastic-wrapped plate like it was diseased, he opened a cupboard and shoved it in, slamming the door with a certain degree of satisfaction. Out of sight, out of mind. He would be safe from the cookie until Greed came home later, to eat it.
~~~~~~~~~~
Myself as a cat, playing chess with the 'cheshire kitty twins' for dee_um_ee_um_el:
~~~~~~~~~~
A Game of Chess
Edward had decided it might be better if he didn't know what was going on. He was sitting in a magnificent garden opposite two young…people (for lack of a better term) playing chess, of all things. He had no idea how he'd gotten there, and no memory of starting the game, which appeared to have been going on for quite a while; he was losing horribly. However, none of these things worried Edward half so much as the fact that, at some point along the line, he had sprouted cat ears and tail, and his hands and feet had morphed into enormous paws. He noted idly that the same had happened to the two boys across the board from him, but they seemed hardly discomfited at all with the change.
"Knight to E4," they recited in unison as they made their move, not even consulting one another first.
Edward was even more unnerved. Twins really weren't natural, and these two especially. He looked down at the board when their eyes locked on him expectantly. Had he been mad? His gaze darkened. Surely he hadn't made these moves. Which fool had been playing this board before him? The game was utterly unsalvageable. It didn't matter anyway, so the blonde made a hasty move with one of his rooks and hit the timer.
"You know-" began the twin on Edward's right.
"You could at least-" interjected his brother.
"Try," finished the first.
"You haven't made this-"
"Much of a challenge."
"We're."
"Bored."
Edward had been so fascinated with the twins' ability to finish each other's sentences that he hadn't picked up on the sense of impending doom that their words really should have triggered. He watched as the two grinned like Cheshire cats and shared a Look, but by the time he'd realized what was going to happen, it was already far too late.
For someone with various cat-parts, Edward's reaction time was remarkably slow. The chess board went flying as the twins pounced, and he thought he'd felt two mouths on his neck before everything went black.
Edward awoke in a cold sweat, and it took him a moment to realize he was in his bed. It took several more moments to realize that his body parts were all human (or at least human-like). When he was finally completely coherent, he had only one thing to say. "What the fuck was that?"
~~~~~~~~~~
Kyouya (from Diabolo) dying horribly for sexy_and_skorty:
~~~~~~~~~~
Eighteen
That bitch… They'd been in the same boat, after all: former members of the group of Six Great Spirits who had lost their powers. Fleurety, or no, Tsukiko had gotten frightened, however. Despite the fact that Mio's plan had been thwarted, normal people didn't know that. The veritable witch-hunt of seventeen-year-olds had continued unabated.
The two of them had found what had appeared to be a safe-house for persecuted teenagers, and had been living there together for almost a week. And now this. Were they paranoid, or merely blood-thirsty, to have come in a group of four? One look at the hungry, eager expressions on the adults' faces, and Kyouya knew the truth to be the latter option.
He was backed into a corner, surrounded by three middle-aged men and a woman who looked barely older than he was; Kyouya knew he was trapped. Despite that, he was calm, his heart rate normal, his expression serene. He wouldn't fight back - what could he hope to do against four opponents without a weapon or his powers? - but he wouldn't give them the satisfaction of hearing him scream.
A sense of detachment washed over him as the first knife sank into his belly. He could feel the warm pooling of blood as it drenched his shirt and jeans, agony radiating like fire from the wound, but it was as if he were watching the whole ordeal as a bystander, someone utterly separate from the inexplicable display of violence.
The woman, especially, seemed manic, desperate for his pain. As Kyouya sagged to the floor, she swooped down like some deranged vulture, pulled a man's straight razor from her pocket and, cackling madly, proceeded to disfigure his face.
It was the exquisitely sharp variety of face pain he'd never been able to master, and he emitted an agonized hiss as she crisscrossed deep slashes across his cheeks. It was a sharp blade, but that didn't help. The pain was excruciating as she sliced through the bridge of his nose.
Kyouya was no longer even capable of cataloguing the rest of his injuries as a hot wash of blood flowed down the back of his throat. It tickled, vaguely, and he coughed, a fine mist of crimson staining the female assailant's face. He knew it was a mad thought, but the young man decided that she looked wildly beautiful like that: some fierce Amazon as she gouged chunks of flesh from his face.
Vision hazy, Kyouya finally managed to separate himself from the pain, though he no longer had the sense to understand why that was. An overwhelming sense of peace stole through him as his surroundings went black, the image of the woman's manic face, spattered with blood, burned into his mind with some sense of nostalgia.
His last, incomprehensible thought: At least I made it to my eighteenth birthday…
~~~~~~~~~~
Lastly, Hinamori/Aizen fluff for loyalfukutaicho:
~~~~~~~~~~
House-warming
Hinamori smiled as she carried the final box into her new home. She couldn't remember a time she'd been happier. Perhaps when she'd been assigned vice-captain under Captain Aizen, but the two were very close. Her eyes invariably swept over to the man in question and softened; he was bent down, inspecting the contents of a different box, trying to decide where it should go.
It was certainly not unexpected for captains and vice-captains to develop close relationships. After all, there was nary a person either spent more time with, in any case. However, and Hinamori's expression darkened imperceptibly as the thought that had been recurring to her for days returned en force, it was not common at all for captains and vice-captains to grow so close as she and Aizen had. After all, close really was just a euphemism.
The female shinigami reddened unconsciously and turned to another of the boxes as she felt rather than saw her lover focus his attention on her. "Is something troubling you?" Perhaps he knew her too well…
She looked over at the man and found him watching her. Despite her concerns, Hinamori's smile for him was genuine, unforced. "Of course. Where are we going to put everything? Surely there's no space for it all!" Her answer to his question and the statements after it were, of course, unrelated, though it had sounded good. Aizen gave a slight nod, and she turned back to the box, picking through its contents and setting aside certain items which could not be placed in storage. Hinamori was taken completely by surprise when she felt him, very close behind her, and she rose, turning quickly to face him.
This had been exactly what the man had been anticipating, and he took the opportunity to wrap his arms around her, drawing her close. "You can't fool me." His tone was warm and affectionate, free of accusation. A smile curved Aizen's lips as he watched his lover turn a delicate and lovely shade of pink. "You didn't expect me to believe you were only concerned with the packing, either," he informed her a moment later.
"There are no rules against 'fraternization.'" Aizen grinned at the look of mingled shock and embarrassment that stole over Hinamori's face. "Besides, which of our peers do you really think isn't expecting something like this?"
His voice was so calm and reasonable… The woman relaxed in his arms, pressed her head to his chest. It was things like this that made her love him. She wasn't one for sweeping, dramatic gestures, and, well, Aizen didn't really seem the type for them either. The simple things: a warm voice, strong arms, that tiny dimple at the side of his mouth when he smiled at her that no one else had looked at closely enough to notice…those were what were important.
"We don't even have to tell them, do we?" A tiny, almost mischievious smile had crept onto her face. "They've figured it out ages ago…"
Aizen smirked. "I imagine you're right." He leaned in and pressed a long, slow kiss to that impertinent mouth. He noted her breathlessness with pleasure when they parted. His own expression had become distinctly playful. "However, for formality sake, let's tell them anyway, shall we?"
~~~~~~~~~~
Anyway, I hope you like them.