more drabbles: ffvii, naruto, get backers, gundam wing

[jukeboxhound_backup]

 So I've learned a few things in the last week.
1. Drabbles are addicting.  Fuck.
2. I'm used to people hating my taste, but putting my music library on random sounds really strange even to me.
3. Fanfiction will always interfere with schoolwork, no matter how good your intentions.  ALWAYS.  You know it's bad when you're trying not to draw slashy conclusions about Basil I and Photios the Patriarch.
4. I'm now artimusdin's official buttmonkey, ever since she applied her lovely beta skills to one of my final papers.  (But make one joke about it and I'll pull a Dr. Faustus on your soul.)

None of these are requests. They're idle ones done in boredom and frustration, so they're unbetaed and somewhat odd.

________

 Bare Naked Ladies – “If I Had a Million Dollars”

“If I had a million dollars,” Genji declared to the world one day, “I’d buy you a whole week’s worth of meals.”

 

“Just a week?” Ban asked dryly.  He was draped over their bug’s hood with a cigarette lazily spiraling smoke, shamelessly soaking in the sun of the park.

 

“Well, duh.  I’d be eating the rest.”

 

Ban rolled his eyes.  “If I had a million dollars, I’d buy you a puppy.”

 

Genji’s curious face appeared upside-down in front of his own.  “What the hell?  A puppy?”

 

“Then you’d be too busy playing with the damn thing to eat my food.”

 

Genji snickered.  “Well, if I had a million dollars, I’d buy us a real bed.  You wanna know why?  Huh?  Huh?”

 

“…I think I can guess.”

 

“No, because I’d wear you out so much that you couldn’t get up and then I could have the puppy and the food, and I’d get to see you make that face when you sleep that makes you look like a spoiled five-year-old.”

 

Ban grumpily admitted to himself that Genji won that one.

 

Marilyn Manson – “The Golden Age of Grotesque”

Duo had to laugh.  Guns were firing and people were dying and Treize had the fucking brass balls to stand behind the safety of his army, behind his communications screen in OZ headquarters, and preach about the ideology of revolution.  His blue velvet jacket had been freshly brushed, the pilot noticed idly.  It looked shiny.  Polished.

 

Then Duo turned away from the small screen in Deathscythe’s cockpit while Heero argued one point or another with the general; he wasn’t sure what it was about, and didn’t really give a shit about words.  Sandrock cleaved through a Taurus and he idly wondered how Quatre’s space-heart was holding up so far, what with all the machine oil spotted with human crimson streaking his Gundam’s sickles.  Wufei was breaking angrily into Heero and Treize’s debate as his chain-dragon sent a Leo up in flames.  Trowa’s expression on the comm-link was flat as he leveled an enemy squadron.

 

It wasn’t until he caught his reflection on the metal surface of the cockpit that Duo realized his lips were twisted into a grin, the light from the console casting a pale sickness over his features.  A frayed thread from his cuff was tickling the underside of his wrist as he braced himself to block the swipe from a Taurus’ weapon and immediately retaliated with his scythe.

 

With his oiled buttons, Treize didn’t seem like the type of warlord to have loose threads.  Not when he stood clean and polished behind his fighting, dying army and talked about the ideology of revolution.

 

Duo couldn’t help but laugh.

 

Dead Can Dance – “The Wind That Shakes the Barley”

Mako did odd things to a person’s perception of time.  Sometimes Cloud lived a thousand years between the meals that the lab techs brought him and Zack.  Sometimes he lived within the same instant for days, months on end, like a caterpillar that had died in its cocoon and would never transform.

 

It took Zack a thousand years to die.  Cloud knew this because the world came to a standstill when the Buster sword slipped from Zack’s fingers, when his body arced so poetically against the overcast sky, when he struck the earth and there was silence.

 

Just—silence.  The shot heard for an eternity.

 

Benedictine Monks of Santa Domingo de Silo – “Puer Natus Est Nobis”

“Pardon me, Father, for I have sinned.”

 

Cloud’s breath caught, his words stuttering in his throat.  I have sinned against God, Father.  I’ve perverted the nature he’s given me.

 

Last night strong hands pushed him back on his bed, spread his legs.  Gripped his hips as sharp white teeth left bruises on the soft insides of his thighs, bruises that now that rubbed uncomfortably against the material of his acolyte’s uniform.  He had arched his spine for the larger body that leaned over him, had moaned aloud when he was splayed wide and penetrated.  His fingers had slipped over the silky-smoothness of a single feathered wing.

 

“My last confession was three days ago.”  I sinned with an angel, Father. 

 

And I would do it again.

 

Orgy – “My Way With You”

Everyone knows Sasuke is fucked up—that he was fucked up long before Orochimaru came around with whispers of power and the dark—but what they don’t realize is that the sickness has twisted around the neurons in his brain, is being pumped through his veins, has become indistinguishable from the thump-thump of his heart.  Naruto will sometimes press his ear to Sasuke’s chest when he thinks Sasuke is asleep just to hear the slow steadiness of a heartbeat, and it’s those times that Sasuke wonders if Naruto can hear the disease.  He’d heard animals could often smell the cancer in their masters before a doctor’s chakra could find it.

 

Irony.

 

Sasuke doesn’t care one way or the other who he does or doesn’t fuck, but he won’t fuck Naruto.  Doesn’t know how to explain that he’d lose his mind if the touches turned soft, how a gentle caress will make his chest tighten with fear and revulsion unless he feels the sharp bite of nails in his skin or the numbing prick of a kunai.

 

His father and Itachi and Orochimaru have all taught him well.  Better to have the pain first so the good doesn’t hurt so much when it’s ripped away, and he refuses to do that to the only thing he has left.

 

Deftones – “Passenger”

His God whispers to him, twines around him, pulls him close and shows him the universe on a single black wing.  He hears a voice calling him, hears a laughing-warm-friendly-loving voice calling him back only it doesn’t sound so happy anymore.  It sounds broken.  It breaks his heart, and that makes him curl closer to his God.  He doesn’t think he’ll mind forgetting everything in his past so long as his God carries him through the future.

Comments

[jukeboxhound.livejournal.com]

But they're not having buttsex. Therefore, my headless gay men pwn your chicobos hardcore.

[dracontia.livejournal.com]

Sad but true.

[jukeboxhound.livejournal.com]

...Damn it. And you were keeping me entertained before you gave up so easily.

[dracontia.livejournal.com]

I'm sorry, I ran out of plithy comments. Should I start in on the yo mama jokes insead?

[jukeboxhound.livejournal.com]

That's what yo mama asked last night.

[dracontia.livejournal.com]

What, you mean she said yo mama's name last night?

[jukeboxhound.livejournal.com]

Not unless my mama's got the same name as you.

*has the sudden urge to find incest!fic*

[dracontia.livejournal.com]

*shudders*

Go ahead, get it out of your system *pats hades head* Please. I'm sure you can even find one with yo mama's name in it.

[jukeboxhound.livejournal.com]

*laughing aloud*

*snaps off your hand*

Speaking of whom, however, she often slashed video games before I got the chance to open my mouth. I lovingly blame her for the way I am.

[dracontia.livejournal.com]

So it is a family thing. But really, that does sound pretty cool.

*goes off in search of another hand*