dracoqueen22 (dracoqueen22) wrote,

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Song Meme #2

a/n: I like to write just before I go to bed. I come up with the strangest things that way. Plus, it's fun to do it longhand. My very best friend likes to buy me these cute notebooks, and I like to fill them up. *laughs* 

So, one of the things I do, is put on my mp3 player, and write for the length of a song, and let about three songs play. So.... here's three of them! I did nothing to these but tidy up the grammar and finish up some incomplete sentences. Some may give birth to longer fics. Time shall tell.

Featured fandoms today: Synesthesia, Shady Hill, Bleach (specifically The Beautiful Lie 'verse)

Coheed and Cambria – Wake Up
Synesthesia, Ethan POV, implied JaidenxEthan, Not Canon At All

For all that has happened, he walks away so easily.

Ethan frowns, pushing aside the clenching feeling in his chest. It was a few random encounters after all. A few stolen moments of ecstasy. A night of comfort.

It wasn't supposed to mean anything. Why then, is Ethan acting like it matters?

Jaiden's gone. Ethan's normal life is within his grasp. The other Kinetics have left, as they were ordered.

… and Jaiden didn't even try to stay.

Ethan's alone again. That's fine. It's the way things should be. No more annoying telepaths, or reserved aerokinetics, or anyone.

He can put everything behind him now. Move on. Try to toss aside the murders and the pain and grieve for his best friend. He can pretend everything's all right.

Except where it's not.

Jaiden walks out the door, doesn't look back, doesn't say anything as sentimental as a good bye. For him, it's all about orders. It always has been.

Ethan's frown deepens as he throws himself back into his chair. Jaiden's also a liar, claiming it had nothing to do with mission, but it did, didn't it? Anything to make the willful Empath more obedient. Anything to make it easier.

Ethan's jaw twists, that uncomfortable lancing sensation tearing through his innards again. No, he's not going to be upset about this. There's nothing to get hurt over. Ethan's alone, as he should be. Life goes on, the world keeps turning, and Ethan is glad for it.

Madonna – The Power of Goodbye
Shady Hill, SanderxJasper, Canon, Spoilers for event near end of fic. Read at own risk.

Sander has never been a powerful Alter. Sure, he is skilled. He can handle his own in battle. He can defend himself. But he's always considered his talents to lie in hacking. Computers and code are his home ground.

This, right here and now, however, is completely new territory for Sander. He is lost, no plan, no code to crack. He has no idea what he's supposed to do.

He's, in effect, useless.

The bundle of warmth pressing against him for comfort all but demands help. Sander has no idea where to begin. He doesn't know how to heal this. His own love isn't enough; it never has been.

His arms aren't strong as they wrap around Jasper. His words lack tact, his emotions empty for all their sincerity.

Jasper is hurting and Sander has no idea how to make the pain go away. He can only smooth his palm down Jasper's back, wrap the Repel's body in his arms, and be there. Be a silent support, wishing he could do more.

Mik's dead and they are both grieving for him. Sander, for the loss of his best friend, a man who trusted him when by all rights, Mik should have gunned him down on the spot. Jasper... for a much deeper reason. He grieves for the man who found him, saved him. For the man he respects, the man he... loves.

Yes. Jasper loved – loves – Mikael. There's no room for Sander.

He's the one who's here, though. He's the one trying to soothe the grief and the pain, wishing they'd all been faster or stronger. Wishing Mik hadn't been so insistent on dying. Wishing Mik had loved them all enough to try and stay, rather than chase after his own broken heart.

Sander chews on the inside of his cheek, rubs Jasper's back again. The Repel is trembling, but he's not crying. Not yet. His grip on Sander's shirt is tight, cloth stretched taut, but Jasper's not crying. He won't.

Sander just wishes he would. Because Sander can't either, and one of them needs to break. One of them needs to heal, and Sander already knows, it isn't going to be him.
Cold – Wicked World
Bleach, Kisuke POV, The Beautiful Lie 'verse


He tastes blood. Kisuke turns his head, spits out a glob of it. And a tooth by the look of things. Huh.

He wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand, and rises shakily to his feet. He aches all over. His left arm dangles useless at his side: dislocated. His right eye is gummed shut, sticky with blood. He's wrenched his ankle, bruised his tailbone, and is bleeding from a gash to the back.

“Do you understand?” Shion, his instructor, asks. Voice low and malicious, tainted with an edge of glee. An eagerness to inflict more damage.

Every movement is tainted with agony, but Kisuke smirks a blood-streaked grin. “I don't know, you tell me,” he challenges, and lifts his head. Defiant.

Shion laughs, tossing his head. Looking untouched, unbruised. Kisuke hasn't managed to land a single blow as of yet.

He lifts a hand, beckoning toward his student. “Come along then, child,” he says, lips twisted with a sneer. “And try not to die.”

Kisuke's legs don't want to obey him. They want to collapse beneath him. His breath comes in short pants. His hands are shaking. Blood drips into his eye again; he angrily wipes it away.

He's going to do this though. He's not going to quit. Kisuke's not going to return a failure. He owes Yoruichi-sama that much. He owes himself more.

Kisuke straightens, ignoring the screaming agony of his body, and throws himself forward, fist raised to strike. He'll get in one good blow if it kills him. Which it very well might. But all the better. He'll have gone down fighting, which, in Kisuke's opinion, is a far, far better option than failure.
a/n: I've got a few more that just need to be typed up. And some ficlet/drabbles in various verses (Infinity's End, Fullmetal Alchemist, Bleach, etc) so I'll post them as I transfer them to the computer.

Hope you enjoyed!
Tags: bleach, original fiction, the beautiful lie
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