fic: comment fic stuff 3
Nov. 16th, 2009 12:29 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bonnefoisTitle: Strange How We Fit Each Other
Series: FE10
January Eighteenth / something familiar about the way they fit together (late)
character/pairing: Ike/Soren
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 678
A/N:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
comment_fic: Fire Emblem 9, I can't take my eyes off of you. Title comes from a line from “Eric’s Song” by vienna teng.
The book was just beyond his reach.
Soren stood on tiptoe, yet again cursing his height. There was no bolster to lift himself up, and the chair was of a heavy wood, one which was far too much trouble for him to drag across the room. For Ike, it would have been little trouble. For him, however, it was impossible.
The door opened behind him. A careless step, brusque, beloved. Soren turned, as if it was magnetic, for he was never able to resist.
“I was about to find a leverage of some sort,” Soren murmured.
“I’ll get it,” Ike said.
Ike’s hand ran up along Soren’s spine, as he reached up, and Soren leaned into him, back arching to the touch. Ike’s hand still rested on his shoulder.
“Meet me later for the final report,” Ike said.
And Soren wouldn’t even think of protesting.
*
Every night, the first thing Ike started with was the hair ties. He undid them and let Soren’s thick black hair flow free down his back.. He was surprisingly meticulous in his attention to Soren’s hair, considering that the motto for his own hair was seemingly get out of bed, leave bedhead as it is.
“You should leave it long,” Ike said.
“It would be a nuisance, constantly in the way. ..But I will, if you wish it.”
“Hmm. Then only when you’re with me. Is that better?”
“A fair compromise,” Soren said.
“It’s almost been three years since then,” Ike said
“Yes...”
Seven hundred and thirty five days. Of course Soren knew the time they’ve been together, could easily recite the year, month, day, second. Yet most of his life has been devoted to Ike, his service, friend, tactician and now, lover. The time spent with him merges to all this time, unseparated, how his life was spent, how he intends to spend every last hour until his last breath.
He was not surprised by the date, merely that Ike has remembered. Even now, Soren had to remind himself that Ike cared. It was hard to not fall into the role of a martyr. The distant friend who would never get what he wished for, who had to watch the one he loved marry someone else and live with the inevitable pain that came.
But he had. He had won, somehow, in a way that still boggled him, Ike had chosen him over a princess, of all things. Over every other woman who had hoped for a hero to call their own. He had watched Ike grow up, both of them growing up together. Ever since that first time he’d not been able to take his eyes off of Ike. Now was little different. He felt Ike’s thumb against his lips, a tender gesture. Their fingers fit and their bodies fit. It wasn’t seamless, but they made due. To Soren, something found or given too easily was suspect. If there had been no small issues, no problems to be solved, then he would have been suspicious.
There were new things to memorize. Expressions during coitus, breaths during sleep. Every day was a repeating of striving to drive down the unease gained from childhood, but that too, was simply another problem to be mended. All it took was reminding himself of the simple truth that had become his life. He never had to turn his gaze away, and could live in bedspreads and enclosed fingers until he drew breath. And that was all he wanted in a life, that and nothing else.
Title: Fifteen Minutes Later
Fandom: Digimon 02
Character/Pairing: genish Daisuke+Ken
Rating: G~ish
Summary: After is all said and done, Ken would rather just be a normal kid again. Daisuke and Ken friendship
Word count: 570
A/N: TVTropes made me crave some of this (especially with the reminder that by the end Ken was calling Daisuke by his first name, no honorifics~)
comment_fic: Anime (author's choice of fandom,) none, five minutes to be anything
--
The popularity dissipated once everyone realized that the genius had been a fleeting thing, something that sprung up and quickly burned itself out once the dark seeds had been unseated from his consciousness. Those tiny spores had sprouted over his anguish and regret, roots of night that had sunk deep into him – with that midnight came brilliance, but it was at a horrible price.
Ken didn’t miss it, at least not very much. It was easy to fade into obscurity. The first falls were hardest when the soccer team lost their star and he steadily fell down the ranks. To have his teammates scorn him, and to be yelled at by his coach, those were the days when he wanted to simply drop out of sight and not be Ichijouji Ken, prodigy and only be Ichijouji Ken, regular teenager.
But Daisuke didn’t care if he was genius level, at least beyond homework help. Even if Ken failed to make the stunning soccer plays he once did or get the highest marks, it never made a difference. They played together often, and Daisuke still praised him, still liked him through it all.
Daisuke stretched out on the couch with his bare feet hanging over the sides. His toenails were now a rosy pink from when he’d fallen asleep and Jun had decided to exact some sort of feminine revenge.
“Man, you need to get out more,”
Ken smiled apologetically. “I need to study.”
Once it all had come so easily to him, but now he had fallen back into the slightly above average he always was. Osamu had been the true genius in the family.
“All that studying is bad for your brain, at this point you’ll implode!”
Daisuke made a sound like a bomb falling and crashing, and even mimed the destruction.
“See, that’s what’s going to happen if you stay inside and study all day.”
“The world will end if I don’t go out?” Ken said.
Daisuke grabbed his hand. “Exactly! Zombies and nuclear winter and everything!”
Ken couldn’t keep himself from smiling. Daisuke always had that effect on him.
“Alright....one game. But afterwards we’re going
“Woo hoo! Last one down is a rotten egg!”
Daisuke grabbed the ball and ran down the steps.
“I still think you’re good, Ken,” Leafmon said. It hopped up from behind a book. “Me too, me too!” DemiVeemon piped in.
“Thanks,” Ken said. The workload loomed ahead of him. But there were still people who didn’t care if he was brilliant, or an international soccer star. People who’d like him even if he could never even begin to fill Osamu’s footsteps, even if he tried.
But these days Ken didn’t want to become Osamu to vindicate himself, to replace his brother for his parents. He didn’t want to live someone else’s life, just his own.
“Come on, Ken! I can smell the stink of your rotten egg-ness all the way down here!” Daisuke yelled.
Ken laughed. “Coming!”
Title: Something Blue
Day/theme: June 13 - We will buy dishes there, maybe even two sets (late08)
Fandom: ffviii
Character/pairing: Squall/Rinoa
Word count: 731
Author’s Note:
comment_fic Author's choice, author's choice, give me a gentle autumn before the dying of the year (Frank Wildhorn)
“What do you think?”
He shrugs. After seeing fifty shades of blue, from periwinkle to robin’s egg, navy to cadet, he was regretting just how seriously Rinoa was taking the adage “something blue”. To him, like most men, a decoration was a decoration. He fails to see the point of going through fifty shades to find ‘just the right one’.
“It’s a good thing I love you,” She says wryly and smiles up at him with that enigmatic, coy, Riona smile.
He obsession was to match the dining room with the exact complimentary color of her mother’s plates, thin blue porcelain with captured worlds etched inside. Perhaps it was a bad thing to let it slip that he liked the color well enough, as Rinoa had taken to obsessively finding color swabs for their blue-and-white house in the suburbs.
She sighs dramatically. He knows she’s not half as irritated with him as it would seem.
“Come on, I think it’s time for a break,” she says and locks her arm in his.
*
Her father still disapproves that Squall lives with his daughter, or that he even exists at all.
Rinoa has painstakingly explained countless times that Squall was her fiancee and it was not really that shocking, but her father would only look on tight lipped at the man who stole away his daughter.
Her father has never been never a traditional man except when it came to his daughter. He is in fact, a very liberal man, but he is a father before anything else, which is very bad news for Squall or any other usurper, who was bound to have the talk which was bound to involve shotguns in one form or another. But somehow, Squall survived, without bullet wounds.
*
It is a hard enough chore even to get this far, and she certainly couldn’t have if it hadn’t been for all that persistence. As she keeps reminding him, the wedding is actually quite casual considering. Even if her father is paying and would have unloaded the amount of a national treasury if she asked, The only thing she desires is a quiet, backyard wedding in her mother’s wedding dress. And a lot of other things, all in the shade of blue.
She is outside the norm. She wants an autumn wedding, not June, and she likes the idea of a soft rain falling, and him carrying her through over the wet pavement.
Outside the shops, she held fast to his arm.
“I want to be married before winter – maybe on a precipice so there can be snow and the turning leaves.”
She looked up, so full of wonder. “It’s all so gentle to see the leaves fold in – they’re so sleepy!”
She spins, eyes closed, childlike in the grasp of a memory.
“Can you give me that?”
“I’ll give you whatever I can,” he says.
She takes his hands in hers. “And would you ask me to marry you all over again, this time with daddy’s shotgun not at your back?”
He shifts slightly. “...yes. I would.”
She laughs, joyous and embraces him.
“Then that’s all I need to know right? That and your opinion of mauve.”
“..I thought mauve was a type of food?”
She kisses him. “Squall, I love you, but I think I’m going to ask Selphie for the rest of the decorations.”
“She’s going to want to make it a big affair,” Squall says.
“Then I’ll just have to tell her to hold her horses. I don’t want you running away. I’m not sure daddy would forgive that, even if I explained that it was just because the crowds.”
“Would you marry me right here, right now?” She smiles up at him.
“Yes.”
“Then there’s no hurry! See, we’re already newlyweds! Everything from here will go great. Now Mr Leonheart, I’m looking forward to forever.”
He nodded, choked with emotions. In his arms she is bright, lovely, and when he kisses her again, he feels lucky somehow to have brushed with hope and caught it in his hands.
Series: FE10
January Eighteenth / something familiar about the way they fit together (late)
character/pairing: Ike/Soren
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 678
A/N:
comment_fic: Fire Emblem 9, I can't take my eyes off of you. Title comes from a line from “Eric’s Song” by vienna teng. The book was just beyond his reach.
Soren stood on tiptoe, yet again cursing his height. There was no bolster to lift himself up, and the chair was of a heavy wood, one which was far too much trouble for him to drag across the room. For Ike, it would have been little trouble. For him, however, it was impossible.
The door opened behind him. A careless step, brusque, beloved. Soren turned, as if it was magnetic, for he was never able to resist.
“I was about to find a leverage of some sort,” Soren murmured.
“I’ll get it,” Ike said.
Ike’s hand ran up along Soren’s spine, as he reached up, and Soren leaned into him, back arching to the touch. Ike’s hand still rested on his shoulder.
“Meet me later for the final report,” Ike said.
And Soren wouldn’t even think of protesting.
*
Every night, the first thing Ike started with was the hair ties. He undid them and let Soren’s thick black hair flow free down his back.. He was surprisingly meticulous in his attention to Soren’s hair, considering that the motto for his own hair was seemingly get out of bed, leave bedhead as it is.
“You should leave it long,” Ike said.
“It would be a nuisance, constantly in the way. ..But I will, if you wish it.”
“Hmm. Then only when you’re with me. Is that better?”
“A fair compromise,” Soren said.
“It’s almost been three years since then,” Ike said
“Yes...”
Seven hundred and thirty five days. Of course Soren knew the time they’ve been together, could easily recite the year, month, day, second. Yet most of his life has been devoted to Ike, his service, friend, tactician and now, lover. The time spent with him merges to all this time, unseparated, how his life was spent, how he intends to spend every last hour until his last breath.
He was not surprised by the date, merely that Ike has remembered. Even now, Soren had to remind himself that Ike cared. It was hard to not fall into the role of a martyr. The distant friend who would never get what he wished for, who had to watch the one he loved marry someone else and live with the inevitable pain that came.
But he had. He had won, somehow, in a way that still boggled him, Ike had chosen him over a princess, of all things. Over every other woman who had hoped for a hero to call their own. He had watched Ike grow up, both of them growing up together. Ever since that first time he’d not been able to take his eyes off of Ike. Now was little different. He felt Ike’s thumb against his lips, a tender gesture. Their fingers fit and their bodies fit. It wasn’t seamless, but they made due. To Soren, something found or given too easily was suspect. If there had been no small issues, no problems to be solved, then he would have been suspicious.
There were new things to memorize. Expressions during coitus, breaths during sleep. Every day was a repeating of striving to drive down the unease gained from childhood, but that too, was simply another problem to be mended. All it took was reminding himself of the simple truth that had become his life. He never had to turn his gaze away, and could live in bedspreads and enclosed fingers until he drew breath. And that was all he wanted in a life, that and nothing else.
Title: Fifteen Minutes Later
Fandom: Digimon 02
Character/Pairing: genish Daisuke+Ken
Rating: G~ish
Summary: After is all said and done, Ken would rather just be a normal kid again. Daisuke and Ken friendship
Word count: 570
A/N: TVTropes made me crave some of this (especially with the reminder that by the end Ken was calling Daisuke by his first name, no honorifics~)
comment_fic: Anime (author's choice of fandom,) none, five minutes to be anything --
The popularity dissipated once everyone realized that the genius had been a fleeting thing, something that sprung up and quickly burned itself out once the dark seeds had been unseated from his consciousness. Those tiny spores had sprouted over his anguish and regret, roots of night that had sunk deep into him – with that midnight came brilliance, but it was at a horrible price.
Ken didn’t miss it, at least not very much. It was easy to fade into obscurity. The first falls were hardest when the soccer team lost their star and he steadily fell down the ranks. To have his teammates scorn him, and to be yelled at by his coach, those were the days when he wanted to simply drop out of sight and not be Ichijouji Ken, prodigy and only be Ichijouji Ken, regular teenager.
But Daisuke didn’t care if he was genius level, at least beyond homework help. Even if Ken failed to make the stunning soccer plays he once did or get the highest marks, it never made a difference. They played together often, and Daisuke still praised him, still liked him through it all.
Daisuke stretched out on the couch with his bare feet hanging over the sides. His toenails were now a rosy pink from when he’d fallen asleep and Jun had decided to exact some sort of feminine revenge.
“Man, you need to get out more,”
Ken smiled apologetically. “I need to study.”
Once it all had come so easily to him, but now he had fallen back into the slightly above average he always was. Osamu had been the true genius in the family.
“All that studying is bad for your brain, at this point you’ll implode!”
Daisuke made a sound like a bomb falling and crashing, and even mimed the destruction.
“See, that’s what’s going to happen if you stay inside and study all day.”
“The world will end if I don’t go out?” Ken said.
Daisuke grabbed his hand. “Exactly! Zombies and nuclear winter and everything!”
Ken couldn’t keep himself from smiling. Daisuke always had that effect on him.
“Alright....one game. But afterwards we’re going
“Woo hoo! Last one down is a rotten egg!”
Daisuke grabbed the ball and ran down the steps.
“I still think you’re good, Ken,” Leafmon said. It hopped up from behind a book. “Me too, me too!” DemiVeemon piped in.
“Thanks,” Ken said. The workload loomed ahead of him. But there were still people who didn’t care if he was brilliant, or an international soccer star. People who’d like him even if he could never even begin to fill Osamu’s footsteps, even if he tried.
But these days Ken didn’t want to become Osamu to vindicate himself, to replace his brother for his parents. He didn’t want to live someone else’s life, just his own.
“Come on, Ken! I can smell the stink of your rotten egg-ness all the way down here!” Daisuke yelled.
Ken laughed. “Coming!”
Title: Something Blue
Day/theme: June 13 - We will buy dishes there, maybe even two sets (late08)
Fandom: ffviii
Character/pairing: Squall/Rinoa
Word count: 731
Author’s Note:
comment_fic Author's choice, author's choice, give me a gentle autumn before the dying of the year (Frank Wildhorn)“What do you think?”
He shrugs. After seeing fifty shades of blue, from periwinkle to robin’s egg, navy to cadet, he was regretting just how seriously Rinoa was taking the adage “something blue”. To him, like most men, a decoration was a decoration. He fails to see the point of going through fifty shades to find ‘just the right one’.
“It’s a good thing I love you,” She says wryly and smiles up at him with that enigmatic, coy, Riona smile.
He obsession was to match the dining room with the exact complimentary color of her mother’s plates, thin blue porcelain with captured worlds etched inside. Perhaps it was a bad thing to let it slip that he liked the color well enough, as Rinoa had taken to obsessively finding color swabs for their blue-and-white house in the suburbs.
She sighs dramatically. He knows she’s not half as irritated with him as it would seem.
“Come on, I think it’s time for a break,” she says and locks her arm in his.
*
Her father still disapproves that Squall lives with his daughter, or that he even exists at all.
Rinoa has painstakingly explained countless times that Squall was her fiancee and it was not really that shocking, but her father would only look on tight lipped at the man who stole away his daughter.
Her father has never been never a traditional man except when it came to his daughter. He is in fact, a very liberal man, but he is a father before anything else, which is very bad news for Squall or any other usurper, who was bound to have the talk which was bound to involve shotguns in one form or another. But somehow, Squall survived, without bullet wounds.
*
It is a hard enough chore even to get this far, and she certainly couldn’t have if it hadn’t been for all that persistence. As she keeps reminding him, the wedding is actually quite casual considering. Even if her father is paying and would have unloaded the amount of a national treasury if she asked, The only thing she desires is a quiet, backyard wedding in her mother’s wedding dress. And a lot of other things, all in the shade of blue.
She is outside the norm. She wants an autumn wedding, not June, and she likes the idea of a soft rain falling, and him carrying her through over the wet pavement.
Outside the shops, she held fast to his arm.
“I want to be married before winter – maybe on a precipice so there can be snow and the turning leaves.”
She looked up, so full of wonder. “It’s all so gentle to see the leaves fold in – they’re so sleepy!”
She spins, eyes closed, childlike in the grasp of a memory.
“Can you give me that?”
“I’ll give you whatever I can,” he says.
She takes his hands in hers. “And would you ask me to marry you all over again, this time with daddy’s shotgun not at your back?”
He shifts slightly. “...yes. I would.”
She laughs, joyous and embraces him.
“Then that’s all I need to know right? That and your opinion of mauve.”
“..I thought mauve was a type of food?”
She kisses him. “Squall, I love you, but I think I’m going to ask Selphie for the rest of the decorations.”
“She’s going to want to make it a big affair,” Squall says.
“Then I’ll just have to tell her to hold her horses. I don’t want you running away. I’m not sure daddy would forgive that, even if I explained that it was just because the crowds.”
“Would you marry me right here, right now?” She smiles up at him.
“Yes.”
“Then there’s no hurry! See, we’re already newlyweds! Everything from here will go great. Now Mr Leonheart, I’m looking forward to forever.”
He nodded, choked with emotions. In his arms she is bright, lovely, and when he kisses her again, he feels lucky somehow to have brushed with hope and caught it in his hands.
Tags:
