.:storm in a teacup:.

[bleach] day one

2008-01-02T16:38:57Z

Happy New Year to everyone!

I haven't actually downloaded any new anime in a year and a half (huzzah! this is an important milestone for me) but I will never escape the Fifth Division and anyway, as far as I know, you don't need canon for this. And I never wrote anything but Momo even when I WAS active, so... (newcomers, if you click my "bleach" tag, 3 times out of 4 it's a Momo story of some sort. Ehehehe.)

Takes place whenever after Hinamori falls comatose, and going by the assumption that she's kept in 5th division HQ.

-----

Being assigned to a squad on life support was not the grand, momentous event that was lavishly spewed about at Academy graduation. It was like any other desk-zombie-run-around-get-tea-for-superiors job save for the undeniable undercurrent of dread.

This division was beheaded by its own captain some months ago and is now run with typical shinigami efficiency by every other person and some officers from other divisions notwithstanding. The remaining members are unbowed and perform as if life has not changed, darting in and out from one place to another. When the new recruit steps out of the door after her orientation meeting, which curiously takes about five minutes and a short "She'll do", she halts in the face of this determined hustle and bustle, at a loss about where to go. What to do? She heads away from the center of activity and tries to make herself useful in a quieter room.

---

Hers is a room seldom entered. Younger officers whisper superstition, and newcomers are often warned offhandedly but firmly away from going in. Their elders do not speak often of her, and when they do it is in tones of the most careful sympathy. For being those who serve as death's ushers, they are exceptionally wary of the barely-life that lingers, by all appearances reluctantly, in that room with the aid of tubes and seals and crossed fingers.

Hers is a room where the absence of silence is more tangible than any lack of sound. It is broken by shallow breathing. It punctuates the artificial stillness.

---

Hurrying down to the left, she ducks into the first room that looks like it could use some tidying and comes face-to-chest with a surprised (tall!) officer. Oops, already occupied? She bows hastily, cheeks flushed, and tries to escape with something like composure.

Keeping this in mind, she walks briskly-- so she likes to think, though she knows that she's almost jogging in her embarrassed haste-- until she reaches the end of the hallway and there's no mistake of trying to be helpful and getting in the way instead. She turns into the door at the left and comes to a surprised stop.

The room is bare, spartan, well-maintained. Nothing to do here, but she is not the only one in the room. There is a bed, and it is occupied.

---

There are visitors, of course. The vice-captain with a vocabulary as vibrant as his hair color, disguising care with rough speech. Another who seems liable to crumble if breathed on. The boy-captain whose quiet, overwhelmingly strong presence speaks for the words he does not. The typical procession of the Fourth's lackeys, methodically checking in every so often with the weathered air of those who know fruitless actions.

But the members of the Fifth studiously avoid any mention of the room's occupant or the circumstances that brought her there.

---

She stares at the delicate sunken face, struck by a sense of familiarity. "Who...?" she trails off aloud, and does not expect an answer.

When she receives one from the previously unnoticed third occupant of this room, she jumps a foot into the air and lands with eyes large as tea saucers and hands clasped over her heart, facing the captain of the Fourth Division.

"Unohana-taichou!" she gasps, bowing at a ninety degree angle and refusing to come back up unless her cheeks stop imitating tomatoes in their color.

"Relax, please," the captain says, laughing lightly. She rearranges the folds of her haori and moves to stand next to the bed with a rustle. "Did you not know she was here?"

"No, taichou," she says, cheeks returning to their normal color. "I don't think many people know. Or they don't say anything."

The gentle captain's only reply is a quiet "hm", and the most audible sound in the room once again is labored breathing.

"Why would our superiors not tell us, taichou?" the girl asks.

A graceful shrug. "Perhaps they saw no need to. Perhaps you didn't need to know. Perhaps they are ashamed. Who are we to guess at their thoughts?"

A thoughtful silence, and another question. "Is there anything to be ashamed of?"

The captain turns to the new shinigami, smiling. "Nothing at all, unless it is love or courage. Your superior was-- is a wonderful person, and that you know about her is nothing to see as a burden."

"What was she like?" she asks curiously.

"There are better people than me you can ask," says the captain, "like Hitsugaya-taichou."

She goes white at the mention of the Tenth's captain. She has seen him once and, despite his being the same height as her, found him intimidating.

Unohana-taichou laughs at this. "She has a very kind heart," she says, "and that's really all you need to know."

---

The most recent visitor, the captain of the Fourth, pauses after her cursory examination, and sweeps the bed with a sad eye. It comes to this, she thinks sadly, where there are such people who would reward devotion with death.

Her face regains its calm, and she continues until she is interrupted by a well-meaning new member of the Fifth.

-----

...And suddenly, I have a crack!image of a Victorian-ish AU one-sided Aizen/Momo. SOMEONE STOP ME.

[naruto] conscious

2007-08-12T06:09:59Z

Kurenai-centric. Spoilers through most recent major-ish character death...yeah, you get the picture. Written at 1:30-2 AM.

-----
A genjutsu user such as herself rarely has the opportunity (--privilege? taken away by the double-edged talent that gives her control over illusions and none over realities, a voice points out) to be anything but constantly on guard. It is such acute awareness of surroundings and condition that keep shinobi alive. Keep them alert.

Constantly, painfully, breathlessly...aware.

(like the press of skin on skin, a lover's familiar warmth, a contact that you no longer have--)

But she is paralyzed by any number of so many things these days; she is not an active shinobi, she is rapidly losing that keen edge, she is not not alone, she is so very overwhelmed by everything life pierces her with, and recalls with bitter irony that her mind was once so capable of balancing overflows of information.

(Of course, that was when she worked within the confines of her mirages, and as her stubborn mind likes to remind her, this is reality and there is nothing she can do about it.)

So in this awkward, frozen state, even this genjutsu user finds that there are moments when her mind is slow to move, when she is boneless and unconcerned and these are the suspended, ethereal minutes after she first wakes.

(funny how you awaken peacefully unfettered by the dreams that plague most of your type; likely because you channel them in your deadly spellcraft)

When she can stretch languidly, blink sleep-clouded eyes at the ceiling, and think of nothing but the sensation of protesting joints sliding back into place for the day ahead--

and then she is battered without warning by the all-consuming tide of everything she knows she knows, that he is gone, that she is floating in a dangerous limbo and ever more incapable of controlling her direction in the battles to come, and she ruthlessly stamps out the voice in her head, ignoring the fact that it is now her only constant companion, because it does not sound like him--

oh and the reminder that really, she does have another constant companion, who will hopefully never-and-always remind her of the father, and it is small wonder that after mere days she always wakes with one arm curled protectively around her abdomen even though she is paralyzed most of all by his greatest gift, prevented from exacting revenge, from taking action, from doing anything but what she is most incapable of and that is bringing him back--

and when the waves of thought settle, leaving her spent and worn and still broken in their wake, she is lying face-up on a bed too large for a solitary person staring blankly into an unresponsive ceiling with her guard up once more.

And reopened wounds behind it.
-----

I don't think I'll post stories on communities anymore-- it's treading a line that's already been drawn thin by my lowering esteem in my own writing abilities. Time to relearn how to write for writing's sake and not for a backwards desire, remnant of childhood isolation, to be accepted or known of or reviewed-- endeavours to which never came to fruition anyway. Chalk one up for reality checks.

naifun @ 2007-07-30T21:47:00

2007-07-31T01:51:01Z

Avatar season 3 trailer from Avatarspirit.net.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EqFjzzMb5Xk

Initial reaction: -jaw drops-
Reaction 2: Holy shit.

Play-by-play reaction:

AAAAH GOD NO NOT MAIKO GODDAMNIT

...AANG, YOU GO BOY

...FIRE ROYALTY ZUKO, YOU SCHMUCK AAAAAAAAAAARGH

KATARA YOU ARE SO SO SO HOT.

SEE ABOVE.

SEE ABOVE ABOVE.

WHERE'S TOPH? MORE TOPH PLEASE

CAPS LOCK AAAAAARGH MY JAW IS HANGING WIDE OPEN

IROHHHHHH T_T

AANG, MY OPINION OF YOU HAS RISEN ABOUT FIVE NOTCHES

ZUKO, MY OPINION OF YOU HAS SUNKEN ABOUT SIX NOTCHES

THIS SUSPENSEFUL MOVIE MUSIC IS GIVING ME CHILLS

I AM SO CONFUSED

SO CONFUSED

DID I MENTION HOLY SHIT?

HOLY SHIT

sdlfidskfjskdjffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff

OKAY NOW THAT I HAVE FINISHED WATCHING I THINK I STILL LOVE ZUTARA WITH BOOK 1/2 CANON BUT I CAN VERY, VERY, VERY MUCH STOMACH BOOK 3 KATAANG BECAUSE THEY BOTH KICK SO DAMN MUCH ASS.

NO I AM NOT BEING A TOTAL IDIOT AND PETTY SHIPPER FREAK INGRATE WEIRD PERSON, WHY DO YOU ASK SDhfksdfhkSDFSkldfhkSDFHlkSDHFlkSD AAAAAAARGH

...I AM SO CONFUSED NOW

...I THINK I WILL SHUT UP, TOTALLY DISREGARD SHIPS BECAUSE THEY ARE INANE, AND ENJOY THE RIDE LIKE A SENSIBLE PERSON

if you seek coherence, get the fook out now.

[avatar] gentry

2007-07-22T19:36:07Z

so Harry Potter 7. Read it in 3.5 hrs. Damn you, canon! Plot was lovely and book was overall quite riveting, but many of the character interactions = gag.

And sdklfhsdfhslkgskdh they killed _____ and _____ right after they ___ _ ____ but at least there's ONE pairing I supported gone canon and zomfg I loved _____'s backstory complete with one-sided ____/_____, which we all knew existed, which is really very tragic. Number of underscores correspond to character's name, kekeke.

Right, so now that I still can't think straight or formulate an actual opinion and HP7 has made one of my oldest fandoms obsolete and part of my childhood has died, and I got rejected from a casting even though I made the callback list because I'm leaving for college in a month, I can't do anything but feel numb. And post this old ficbit.

Katara-rant, hints of Zutara, inspired by the dark dark tan that my poor Asian skin gained in 2 days under the Floridian sun teaching kids how to play tennis, and the ensuing "LOL U LUK LIEK A PEASANT" calls from my relatives, who are still convinced of the Alabaster-Skin Asian Mark Of Pretty.

-----

Peasant?

Katara is not a peasant.

She is not even a commoner. She is the daughter of a chief, not that the general populace around here would equate that to anything on their level; she is the representative of one of the remnants of a formidable bending art that finds very few students these days, no-thanks-to the Fire Nation's efforts in fairly recent history. In fact, she's a master waterbender, and if that doesn't at least garner basic respect in this black-and-white world of backwards favor-currying where force is power, certainty means authority, and councilors and advisors and generals say everything but what they mean, then she doesn't know what does.

But the days of old long before there were comets and before there weren't any more air nomads are long gone, and the fact remains that Katara has to prove herself at every turn.

And skin color doesn't mean a thing! If everyone had standards of beauty strict as those of the Fire Nation citizens, they'd all look like clones, and besides, what do you mean that--

"Katara, you're ranting again," says Sokka, "and I don't much think Zuko minds any of that, unfortunately."

She automatically reaches up to the enameled flame in her hair and blushes.

[avatar] tenacity

2007-07-09T01:24:33Z

My habit of introspective drabbling about words seems to have carried over.

Toph one-shot. Same post-series timeline as previous drabble ~~shhhh, let me live in my ficverse~~. Maybe I should make a series out of these?

-----

She hears the whispers. Delicate, one hisses into the ear of his companion. Tragic, says one of the more fluttery-looking court ladies. Pitiful, dismisses another, and she cannot restrain the involuntary spasm that clenches her fist. Lovely but strange... a daring one muses, trailing off; and while she gives a mental eyeroll at this pronouncement, she also gives this man grudging credit at not attempting to sum her up in one word like the rest of the company seems to so enjoy doing as a pastime.

The fluttery one suddenly gives a start, and the entire herd of chattering cattle is alerted to her presence. She sighs. The pastime has ended for the evening, then. How disappointing.

"Lady Bei Fong, it is an honor--"

The heavy fan in her hand flicks open, sounding in the sudden silence of conversation, and she does not hide her face behind it. Rather, her long fingers ensure that the fan remains splayed upon her palm. Lowered eyelashes raise innocently, blank green eyes entreating-- and having the pleasant side effect of being unnerving. She feels the shudders of those less able to conceal them, and quashes the hurt of rejection; "Do continue your conversations," says the gracious hostess. She has long since learned to play the games of the upper class.

The clustered nobility is, for a blessed moment, at a loss for words.

"Though..." With a speed that belies her disability, she moves to the center of the circle of vultures. "May I suggest that if you aim to be succinct, the word 'multifaceted' is more accurate?"

Eyes narrow almost imperceptibly; at safer distances, muttering begins anew with all the subtlety of a pack of mice, and she purses her lips. This will not do.

Her foot extends from the hem of her robes daintly, and with the turn of an ankle, the ground rumbles.

The point gets across.

---

Well after the guests disperse, Toph finds herself seated on a stone bench close to the gardens. Her evening finery is wrinkled and likely shows the scuff marks that come from traversing the grounds of the estate. She can hear her mother's voice in her head berating her for her carelessness, but even if she could see them, she wouldn't have cared. Her servants are capable enough to make sure that she's presentable for as long as she needs to be. And when it comes to the intrigue of such occasions, being blind is useful; she can't be fooled by appearances, and fancies herself a better judge of character because of it. Keeping up appearances doesn't matter after no one's left to see them.

However, she is left to think.

Multifaceted, indeed. She has come a long way from the girl who dominated Earth Rumble; now shackled by responsibility, her facets are left to glimmer dully in a jewelry box. Like the facets of an antique diamond--

No, not a diamond. Diamonds are hard but brittle; though formed from much pressure and strife, a bit of stress applied at the right angle will make them shatter.

She reaches up. The gold pins holding her hair tightly together fall to the ground with a gentle ting. She sighs, wincing as her scalp relaxes; her other hand is already undoing the fastening on her top robe, and the robe falls to the ground when she stands up. She gives a mental apology to the servant who manages her wardrobe, knowing the screeching that will ensue when she sees the hard-to-clean garment upon the bench the next morning; at least Toph folds them these days.

She self-consciously smoothes one hand over her customary traveling outfit, and waits.

A welcome gust of wind ruffles her hair, erasing any remnants of her constricting formal hairstyle, and she smiles at the bison-shaped silhouette she knows is hovering on the other side of the garden wall. This is a facet that she has missed sorely.

"Ready to go?" calls a familiar voice, and Toph finally grins.

"As ready as I'll ever be," she says, and taps the ground with a foot.

As she rises into the air on a pillar of earth, she berates herself for ever having thought of diamonds. She doesn't need faces and sides cut into her; and besides, while it is softer, jade is easily stronger than diamond.

-----

As Avatar consumes my brain thoroughly, I have another drabble, a story idea, and a drabble-story in the works, requiring me to be innovative and try something new (such as, oh, actually completing them), the latter two being inspired by my trip to China last June. In all honesty, if there's any one factor that made me take the final leap back into writing stories, it would be that trip, and the multitudes of pictures I took.

There are still breathtaking sights that have survived the Westernization of the country.

[avatar] mutable

2007-07-06T15:59:02Z

First Avatar one-shot!

Zuko-centric. Introspection as always. Zutara hints-- turn away if it ain't your cuppa tea.

-----

Change is a word thrown about too often, he muses.

By the dissatisfied commonfolk who couldn't help but want what they didn't have, or the disgruntled wealthy who couldn't realize that they had it already, and people in general who weren't courageous enough to use a word that better highlighted their own inadequacies.

Or better yet, by the women fluttering and flocking in the marketplaces every morning, recounting in breathless excitement their latest life-changing experience and their entirely new outlook on things! which may or may not have been influenced by the handsome young traveling philosopher who happened to be in town that day.

(the herb-lore guru who he'd summoned on request of his uncle, who was in need of an uncommon leaf of local tea, commented idly that making a living of philosophy made you less qualified to teach it than those who'd lived it)

By the councilors and politicians in court, wheedling that change was needed to the budgeting of the treasury, or that peace was pleasant but sorely overrated and that change brought on by the might of the Fire Nation might be, ah, beneficial--

(at which point he would point out that he was instrumental in bringing about the peace they so carelessly referred to, and his observation would be punctuated by a sudden leap in all the lighted flames)

By the noblewomen who endeavored to dig their long, painted talons into him from before he'd even hit puberty and laughed liltingly-- and gratingly-- on how easily men could change, chiseled away by their wiles, left to fall once goals were attained.

(and of course they were baffled when they realized that none of them had enough of an effect to change the then-prince-now-Fire-Lord's demeanor enough to their liking, save for perhaps the fact that he was so much more inwardly annoyed when they were around)

But he had grown too old in too short of a lifespan so far to suggest that people never changed and events never changed them. The marred skin over a third of his head, the subtle traces of his uncle he hadn't taken note of until he realized a steaming cup of tea was never absent from his own side (he favored chrysanthemum tea but damned if he'd let that become common knowledge), the day he faced a boy-turned-young-man with arrows across his skin and a world on his shoulders without malice--

The person who's changed him the most and yet not at all laughs, and he feels the tease of water against his cheek though he sits well over an arm's length from her.

You don't have to change, she says; not for me.

But I have, he thinks, or at the very least you've brought out parts of me I forgot existed.

Like greater compassion. Like acceptance. Like patience--

And then he finds himself with a lapful of happy waterbender and wonders just how much patience he'll really have if she keeps teasing him like that.

naifun @ 2007-07-05T18:47:00

2007-07-05T20:52:00Z

Hi. :D

The circuitous world of anime fandoms spawned my two journals, celira and naifun, over 2.5 years ago; since then, my life has overturned and rearranged itself and I've been on a 15-month-long break from anime. If you've friended me for my writing, the stories will remain, but I will likely no longer be writing for those previous fandoms. Feel free to unfriend me. Thank you so much for your support over the last two years, and I hope my writing will be resurrected shortly, college permitting.

With that, celira becomes inactive but I have finally given in to my closeted two-year love affair with Avatar: The Last Airbender and will be churning out the drabbles here shortly.

Why, you ask? Because this is the most brilliantly executed initially-aimed-at-children's show I've seen in years. Because the writings that it's inspired are mindblowing. Because the characters are deliciously multi-dimensional and absurdly realistic. Because I'm not in the least involved with Avatar fandom (and probably will be unknowingly ruffling feathers, perhaps).

...and because it makes me a very happy Asian to see various aspects of my culture being portrayed accurately. Like the names! In Chinese characters! Happy is I ♥

Melodramatic fangeekery is over for now.

Much love and appreciation,

Lira ['Naifun']

p.s. I was in China for the entire month of June and I have to say that inspiration really kicked me in the ass for a photofic ♥

[bleach] gang aft agley?

2006-05-18T01:33:01Z

Haven't read a chapter since 215, grumblemutterlife, so I'm just crawling back into my classic!old!drabble hole now. Don't mind me. This little bit of insanity comes from an excess of Psych 101 class.

Hinamori rapped on the frame of her friend's door, behind which she could hear an odd squeaking noise. "Kira-kun?"

A pause, and then an agonized groan.

Anxious now, she leaned closer to the paper screen, projecting her voice through it. "We've been worried, you didn't show up for cla--"

She had enough time to blink before the door slid open hard enough to produce a stiff wind and suddenly the squeaking resumed, now unmuffled and at an impressive velocity. Hinamori's mind registered cloth against wood (around where she'd knocked) as the source of the noise, and she frowned accordingly at the young man kneeling down and scrubbing for his life. "...Kira-kun?"

He gazed up at her, countenance haggard and eyes bloodshot, likely due to stress or cleaning fluid fumes or some lamentable cocktail of the two. In a small, pathetic tone, he pleaded, "Hinamori-kun, please take off your shoes. You're stepping on the mat in front of the door."

"That's what it's for, Kira-kun."

"...but you're getting it dirty."

She clapped a hand over her eyes- gently, attempting to curb her frustration. "You ran out of pills again didn't you."

"...I don't like going to 12th division?"

Hinamori clamped a hand on his wrist and all but dragged him down the corridor. "So I think we need to pay a visit to Unohana-taichou."

"B-- but I-- oh, Hinamori-kun, please let go! I just washed my hands!"

you may shoot me now but it was far too tempting to envision Kira as being LITERALLY neurotic in one sense or another. And I have the utmost respect for people suffering from OCD; a friend of mine is one.

[digimon tamers] Myopia

2006-04-16T03:30:40Z

Reverting back to the sanctuary of my nearest and dearest characters. But I'm terribly rusty.

Takes place...whenever, but far post-series. Consider them near adulthood; to heck with continuity. Ruki notices something about Jenrya.

----------

For all her purported brilliance, being perceptive was one of the few strengths she readily admitted to.

He was seated at a console, typing away at his typical breakneck pace. She was leaning against his shoulder just enough so that she could draw back quickly in case an acquaintance passed by, absently flipping through one of her decks. Her line of sight, drifting around the room lazily, landed on his eyes-- concentrating on the emerging lines of code, tightly focused--

Or perhaps not. She spoke. "Jen?"

An offhand "Mm?" was the only response relinquished by the attention he gave to the screen. The clickety-clack of the keyboard was a more telling response.

"Look at me for a second."

"Huh?" His gaze snapped to hers for a moment, but Yamaki's latest assignment tempted it slowly back arou--

"Ah-ah." She tapped the side of his head once, sharply. "Back on me."

Grey met violet reluctantly again, and she nodded. "Thought so."

Grey blinked. "Eh?"

"Your right eye sort of points away from your left."

He clapped a hand over his left eye, forcing the right to line up toward her. "Better?"

"Yes," she said, puzzled. "You sound as if you're used to this."

Turning back to the screen, he nodded absently. "Right eye's weaker than the left. If I look at something for too long, it sort of drifts off."

She shook her head, knowing he couldn't see her from where he sat, eyes-- or eye-- fixed back on the program. "Why don't you get glasses?"

A beat, and the keys resumed their noise. "Don't need them."

"Oh, really?" She turned his face toward her once again, examining the eye.

He swatted at her hand. "Ruki."

"I think you have another reason." The no-nonsense tone of her voice, while playful, held the surety of her 'I-have-a-very-good-option-card-and-you-don't' moments.

He muttered a string of, presumably, complaints under his breath.

"What was that?" She leaned closer.

He groaned, finally stopping and turning fully. "I'd look even more like my father that I already do, and I'd never hear the end of it from Takato." Who'd taken to calling him 'the professor' after his tutelage at the local university began.

"You never complained when we used our sunglasses." Or goggles.

"That's different."

She shuffled the deck thoughtfully. "That's not good for your eyes, though. You keep straining them."

"I can deal. We've been through worse."

Eyebrows furrowed, and then violet slid down to meet grey innocently. "I think you'd look good with glasses."

Another pause, then a sigh. "I'll consider it," he said shortly, and returned to his work.

With a smirk, she watched.

[bleach][requested way back when.] speaks louder than...

2006-02-11T19:48:14Z

Sorry these're taking so long. Life.

Hitsugaya and Hinamori, inspired by requests by chironstar and penguin_sensei. Chiron, sorry, but I can't do fluff whenever I encounter these two.

It took one look for Momo to resolve half-jokingly never to be comatose again-- because she'd missed too much.

The practice sword fell to the ground with a clatter as she gaped, eyes wide, at the figure in front of her. Raising a quivering hand to Toushirou's face, her lips moved soundlessly.

"I'm back," he supplied.

"...You're back," she echoed, and traced the hard, mockingly smooth stream of scar tissue along his cheek. He shuddered, grabbed her hand, held it away from the line. She had still another hand, and with it, gave him a slap that cracked across the unblemished side of his face.

He dropped her hand, and met her eyes with a tired expression. "What was that, Hinamori?"

Her gaze went unfocused. "I...I--" Dazed, she turned, reaching for the sword, and found her progress impeded by two arms now, thin and wiry (and they were the same height now, oh skies), wrapped around her quivering body. When he sighed, she could feel his weariness in his breath, against her neck.

"I'm glad you're safe," she finished helplessly. i'm glad you're alive don't leave me alone again like--

"I'm glad you're back," he answered. you've been gone longer than i have and you're still so far away--

All the same, she turned in his embrace, reached for the sword, and he pulled her back. "Don't."

Eyes flicked to him, startled. Her fingers jerked at her side, where Tobiume was not, closeted away from her in the confines of the Tenth Division headquarters. "Why?"

"You don't need to now."

Tears pricked the corners of her eyes, unnoticed. "I-- I do, oh, I need to find a way--"

With a heartbreaking gentility, he pressed a finger to her chest, against a hard, ironically smooth plane of scar tissue separated from him by a layer of cloth, and she sank to the ground, streaming water and pain with her weakness driven home.

He caught her under the arms, supported her as she crumpled, closed his eyes against her hair. "You're not healed. Don't work too hard." why will you still hurt for him?

She let out a quivering breath of air, each puff weighty with broken promises. "I won't." i can't let go.

Holding on like lifelines, neither acknowledged the unspoken.

Hey, look, new teacup icon!

[icons] Hinamori icon-dump-- who's surprised?

2006-01-14T22:11:00Z

After being accepted as Hinamori Momo in the t_organization RP, a friend pointed something out-- I'd need a wide range of Hinamori icons to cover her various emotions. So, I created a few, largely textless for usage as only emotional indicators. And as a little bit of trivia-- if you let the cursor hover over the images, the descriptions that I labelled each one with for RP purposes should pop up.

[14] Bleach
-[14] Hinamori Momo
---> 13 are textless. Textless icons may be modified, but credit the base to me.

Sample:

01. 02. 03. 04.
05. 06. 07. 08.
09. 10. 11. 12.
13. 14.

All credit goes to celira or naifun.

[bleach][requested] Speak not of decorum

2006-01-14T01:03:09Z

This was requested a month or so ago, and I had forgotten it somewhat entirely until mild inspiration prodded me during my morning commute. Strange timing, no?

So! Yoruichi actually doesn't feature, but you'd have to be drunk to miss the references. Takes place post-Urahara-and-co.'s exodus, as Soi Fong is rising.

Yoruichi/Soi Fong, pet for xiao_baka

"Lady Soi Fong," the servant-- not normally timid, but, well-- stammered, "you must know that-- that animals are not allowed on the premises-?"

The lady turned, and the servant blinked rapidly to clear any dust that might be obstructing her vision because- was that a faint expression of sorrow that the lady wore--

And then the servant heard a smooth, modestly deadly voice suddenly at her shoulder that said, "You must know that you are permitted to make exceptions."

The servant dropped to her knees when she no longer felt the press of the blade at her throat.

Meanwhile, the lady ignored this, scooped the tiny black kitten yawning at her feet up with unprecedented care, and continued on her way.

[bleach] speechless

2005-12-28T19:29:01Z

There have only been two times watching the Bleach anime in which I've felt remotely close to tears. The first was episode 32, involving Rukia and Renji's past, and episode 62, involving Byakuya and Hisana's history. The latter...has knocked me speechless for the moment.

So what else can I do but write?

-----

He lived by the rules of propriety; from birth, they'd been set out for him, and there was no need to break free. Following them was simple, eliminating the need for questions, self-discovery-- all messy and time-consuming introspection. So naturally, he'd been befuddled when he (literally) ran into her, a free spirit beautifully tainted by guilt, driven by the weight of her past on her shoulders.

Even later, when he'd moved past confusion into the embrace of fascination with that delicate wisp of strength, he still couldn't entirely understand her-- every day roaming the streets wistfully, gently requesting that the servants not accompany her, looking out the window on rainy days like a worried mother. The spectre of a sister neither of them ever knew was an unspoken obstacle. There were times when he saw her only a few moments a day, as she headed to sleep soon after returning, exhausted from another excursion.

That wasn't nearly enough to keep him from loving her, but when she slumped unmoving to the floor on that terrible day, when the child was stillborn, when the light faded from her eyes after the title attached to his name drifted from her lips for a final time...the only things that kept him from hating the startled academy student the next day were his promise, her wide-eyed expression (too close for comfort), and those rules-- the only such things he had left to guide him.

[bleach] dreamin' of a white non-denominational winter holiday

2005-12-20T17:30:06Z

The most recent bout of V-jump hilarity alerted me to the fact that it's Hitsugaya-kun/taichou/chan's birthday on the 20th, and Ukitake-taichou/papa/guy's on Dec. 21. So, I suppose the proper greeting for the winter season-- if we refrain from being politically correct as the title of this post-- is now:

Happy ChristmahannukwanzaasolstiyuleHitsubirthdayUkimas.

...We'll stick with the non-denominationalism.

In an attempt to put that train of thought back on rails: I entirely missed all of the birthdays after Hinamori Momo's (because her birthday is shared by seven other people and almost me) due to real life, and after her ficbit, wrote none more. So here I attempt to return to birthdayfics.

Apparently Ukitake is fond of Hitsugaya and likes treating him like a little kid, or a son, much to 'Shirou's chagrin. Naturally, we'll laugh at this predicament.

This bit's based off of the V-jump panel-- couldn't resist. All you need to know from the panel, if you can't read it, is that Ukitake gave Hitsugaya a rather large statue of himself for his birthday (and candy).

-----

"...Hitsugaya-taichou?" A timid and ultimately susceptible 10th Division secretary poked her head around the corner of the shoji screen once she was sure that, well, taichou wasn't looking miffed anymore.

"...yes?"

"Um. Are you going to leave that sitting in the middle of the office?"

"Can't very well move it by myself. I could always blow it up."

"...now you're thinking too much like Kuukaku-san, sir. But, Ukitake-taichou probably went through a lot of effort to make that for you."

"Bit over the top, don't you think? I suppose it's the thought that counts. But, er."

"...you could always ask Komamura-taichou for help."

"I'm not sure he'd appreciate that."

"Oi, Hitsugaya-kun," said a person who also poked his head around the shoji screen, "there's gotta be a kidoh for that somewhere, right?"

Another head followed. "I approve, though! It's not really beautiful, per se, but the statue surely makes you look dashing."

"Madarame, Ayasegawa, get out of my office."

-----

Elsewhere, Ukitake-taichou ain't doing much better. Poor Ukitake-taichou. It's not the illness that's a problem; it's what people try to do about it. People and ficwriters-- I am sorry. Slightly. But I /will/ be a crazy cat lady when I am a sixty-year-old bachelorette.

-----

"Happy birthday, taichou! I have gotten you your favorite--"

"Move, you! Taichou! All of your paperwork for the day has been done and I solemnly--"

"Sentarouuu! I'm sure that taichou appreciates--"

"Get over yourself! Now he doesn't have to--"

Juushirou quietly slid the door closed as his two third-seats bickered.

"Aw, be nice," admonished Shunsui, leaning back with the ever-present cup of sake. "They're just trying to make you happy! Isn't it heartwarming to--"

"I appreciate them, but there are times when I don't need them. Namely, most hours of the day."

"Mrow."

"...what?"

Shunsui craned his head. "Ah," he said, "it appears to be a cat."

The birthday taichou turned around. An angelic ball of white fluff was perched atop his desk for no reason in particular. He turned around again, noting a discontinuity in the workings of the universe. "Why aren't you going crazy and attempting to smother it with love?"

"Because," the patient reply came, "it's yours."

"..."

"You should name it."

"Suggestions?"

"Vicious?"

"...why?"

"It bites people that it doesn't like." Shunsui raised a finger covered in marks.

"...Shira-chan?"

"It is an anklebiter, too."

"Aw, be nice."

-----

No, I don't know. Er, happy birthday to you both! ♥ I have never rambled this much and attempted to sound intelligent. I blame it on still being somewhat ill.

Recent episodes make me happy, and thusly, more ~~Momo torture~~ stuff to come. Happy holidays and gorging-on-food to you all! May you never listen to this song too many times!

Also, I have three unused icon spaces. If any bored icon-makers would like to work with my teacup-storm theme, please do. There will, of course, be fic in return, unless it's not worth much in your eyes. ♥

[hiatus]

2005-12-07T03:56:39Z

Hiatus until December 16.

[bleach] Ashes unto...

2005-12-05T23:02:36Z

To those of you who've friended this journal lately-- thank you. ♥ Hope you enjoy what you read here! And feel free to say so, if you don't.

New drabble-- a couple of weeks since my last one. Aizen meets Momo, though neither of them realize it. Takes place pre-everything.

-----
It was due to habit that he tread carefully. Granted, the house-- shack-- was burning, and beams were periodically collapsing, but his habit was more inclined to watch for dust. If it weren't for the fact that such tangible things as falling roofs were harmless to him, he might have been more worried, but for now-- out of force of habit, he was trying not to get ash on the hem of his hakama.

(Was in medical school when he lived, you know. Sterile environment. He was thankfully not in Fourth Division.)

He dodged a flash-flicker of what might have once been paper, falling from the ceiling, and ducked into a doorway-- what was left of it. The room he entered was no more interesting in flame than it likely was before, and he disregarded the surroundings after noting nothing. And there, on the hard-packed dirt floor, was the soul.

She was staring up at the sky almost wonderingly, eyes unfocused, glassy-- likely shock. She'd crumpled after her death and apparently hadn't moved far from her body since, judging by the stiffness of her shoulders. He gently nudged her with a foot.

Not so much as a blink.

He sighed, and squatted in front of her. Lifting her chin so he could meet her eyes, he summoned a gentle smile. "It's time to go."

Her eyes moved slightly, and he saw tears welling up at the corners. "They...left me."

He shook his head. "It's all over now-- you don't need to worry about it anymore."

Her eyes focused on him. "...to...die?"

Oh, no. Not one of these cases. "It's--"

She thrust his hand away from her, and moved back suddenly. "They had no right."

He unsheathed his zanpakutou.

"I cared for them. They had no place--" She stood, all but a phoenix from the ashes, dim eyes now burning almost-if-not-more brightly than her former residence.

He advanced.

Flames flared around her, as if accepting their kin. (He shook his head. Imagination going slightly rampant, there. The fire was just being fed by a collapsing wall.) "--to let me die alone!"

Before the end of her chain had a chance to attach to the ground and before her anger channeled itself, he moved. She fell to her knees again, and her eyes moved slowly to focus now on the hilt pressed against her forehead.

Her gaze moved to his. "You..."

He smiled again, his eyes obscured by burning red-orange reflected against lenses.

"If I find you again, will you also leave me?"

She faded.

(she'd meet fire again, and solitude)

-----

[naruto] Ki response v.2.0

2005-11-19T04:18:26Z

Ki asked for two, so I deliver! Albeit badly. I apologise, I've been feeling very down and out of it. Mm. -sigh-

Kurenai; midnight for shadows_of_fire

They taught her how to kill from fifty, a hundred, two hundred paces-- and she discovered that the worst damage can be inflicted from less than yards away, and she stared, fascinated (quite morbidly, but it was /done/ as a ninja) as her hands-- innocently twisted in a position that happened to complete a genjutsu seal sequence-- turned what was once a person into incoherence and despair planted in a shell of flesh.

They taught her to be a kunoichi, how to use her body, her wits (or how to appear as if she had a lack thereof), and everything from ikebana to tasteless, odourless poisons. She learned how to exploit the mind.

They taught her to kill; she learned of gender barriers, and refused to wear the jounin vest because she wasn't going to blend in quietly--

They taught resilience, and she learned resilience, but nothing could have prepared her for the true fear that had jolted her-- made her feel like she was ten again, of all things-- when her first genin team set off on their own.

She watched from the gates at midnight.

[requests][responses part deux] Bleach'd once more

2005-11-14T22:59:40Z

Looks like I keep posting my responses to that meme in groups of four, eh. And I tried to get all of the Bleach requests done while I was still riding on the high left over from watching the Soul Sonic clips, though the crack didn't really manifest itself. /dork
I loved writing these, and your prompts are perfect as a challenge.

Shuuhei/Yumichika; trust for fujikujaku (I HAVE SO MUCH LOVE FOR THAT RENAME)

Staring at him warily from behind the relative safety of his sword, Hisagi was not convinced. "This is just a regular spar, Ayasegawa. What are you trying to pull?"

Eyes glinted at him slyly from behind those gaudy eyebrows (and he'd be the last to admit that he'd gotten very used to them) and the reply-- "Don't you trust me, Hisagi-kun?"-- came with a flip of hair.

Moments later, Hisagi found himself even less convinced and pinned under an 11th Division officer and lamentably, not minding that either.

Byakuya and Renji; dance for sephtastic (I'm sorry, Sephy. I can't really...XD;)

Irrationally, before he found his lifeblood taking leave of him rather hastily, before he fell to the ground with the shards of broken dreams cutting his skin beneath him, before his own power crashed down around him-- he suddenly looked at his bankai, looked at the man before him, thought of that man's sister, and grumbled.

(Because it looked as if Rukia'd managed to make him learn how to ribbon dance, anyway, for all that Zabimaru was an enormous lethal ribbon-whip.)

Rukia and Orihime; agreement for adalove (oh Hime breaks my heart ♥)

The reason Rukia looked up was because of the solemnity-- that voice truly was at its most beautiful when it was carefree and cheerful, and the tone of Orihime's at the moment was neither.

"Kuchiki-san?" she had said.

"Yes?"

"...Kurosaki-kun-- cares too much about other people to take care of himself."

"...Yes."

Rukia wordlessly agreed to care, and she'd thought nothing more of that conversation until she looked back after all was done (but not said) and realised what Orihime had sacrificed.

Yoruichi/Soi Fong; underwear for shyunpo (pffft, I love 'em too.)

"...Yoruichi-sama?"

"Hmmm?"

Shaolin blushed for inexplicable reasons and would have nearly shrunken completely into the depths of her gi if not for the prodding on her shoulder. "Shaoliiin," her lady said in a singsong voice, "what's that for? Don't be shy!"

"...why is your training outfit-- there's not much of it there."

"It lets me move freely. Wouldn't want me to look like a fool practicing Shyunpo because something got caught on a tree, hmm?"

"...Icanseeyourundergarments."

"Oho! What's this?" her lady purred, and Shaolin wondered what she had (willingly) gotten herself into.

-----
If anyone has the raw (unsubbed) version of episode 48, could you e-mail me or comment here? Much obliged! ♥

[requests][responses part une] -flaaaail-

2005-11-11T00:28:52Z

Dear f-list:

YOU'RE TOO GOOD TO ME.

Love, Lira ♥

Thanks for your words of support, wai. It's been a /very/ long week, and *flail* is now my new pet expression.

...Now onto beginning to tackle your ~~insane~~ requests! I apologise for not going in order-- just as inspiration nibbles. They're all Bleach bits, but I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. Feel free to request if you haven't. As always, feedback is appreciated.

Hisagi/Momo; glass for penguin_sensei. May you be steadfast through these dark days, and remember that we're all there for you. ♥

"It's no matter, Hisagi-senpai," said she, bending over to pick up one of the larger shards on the ground. "Anyone can have an accident, and I shouldn't have left the cup so close to the edge of the table."

He couldn't repeat his apology, though he'd intended to, because suddenly his line of sight was filled with red, fixed upon the cut on her finger-- "iyaaa, I should have been more careful!" she exclaimed, putting the finger in her mouth-- and all he could think was that she was just as fragile and he didn't want to see her bleed any more.

He recalled this much later while staring death in the eye again- blood streaming down his face.

Chad/Karin; boredom for sahara_storm. Because you know those two are going to grow up and be the badasses of law enforcement.

"You know--" dodge- "I'm beginning--" kick, duck under stray fist, aim for knee- "to think that may-- urk!--" knock out the bastard that got her in the neck- "...right. That maybe today's watch didn't turn out to be too dull," amended the woman as she dusted off the hem of her trenchcoat and gingerly poked at the bruise on her throat.

"...Mm," replied the man, lumping the unconscious figures into a pile politely for the cleanup crew to sweep up.

"Right, then! Ne-ext."

Urahara/Yoruichi; side by side for shadows_of_fire (you sly double-requester, you! I failed at this, truly.)

Kisuke sincerely liked cats. True, there might have been a measure of bias lurking in the recesses of that opinion, but he did like cats. They could be temperamental, they had odd quirks, they had a tendency to tear surreptitious holes in the tatami (and here he decided to give up on the 'they' and give in to the 'she'), and none of that mattered because when he felt the cat curl up at his side while he was lying, very much wide awake, in his futon during starless nights--

Besides, tatami repair was a minor thing.

Aizen and Gin; slow for than (I liiike.)

Gin stretches languorously, a habit he might've picked up from his golden-haired friend, and smiles. It's not as if he hadn't been smiling before, but he smiles now.

"That lot ain't back yet." It isn't so much a question as a confirmation.

"Mm." Sousuke doesn't even bother with the full response because he knows his right-hand well enough.

"Times like that I almost feel like going down there m'self," says, whether to enjoy the sound of his own voice or to fill the silence or to muse aloud- no one knows or dares to bother asking- "it'd get things done faster, eh?"

"Let them deal with it. We'll go visit in good time." It's amusing to watch them play. The feeling of being in control, strands of time and lines of fate sifting in his grasp-- truly something to be savored.

Pace yourself. We're in no hurry.

In your opinion, should I start organising my ficbits in a directory or in my memories? I tag them all, but I wonder how easily people can navigate...

[requests] One-liners, but not.

2005-11-05T20:55:31Z

I've started and left three pieces unfinished this week; the one bit I did manage to complete was short and sloppy. I'm going through fits and starts and I refuse to inflict any more of my emo personal posts on this journal and you readers, so I conclude by saying--

Give me a character or pairing (that I'm familiar with) and a word, and I will write you ~~one line of fic~~ something that ends up being longer than what it started out as.

List of fandoms here. I need help getting unstuck from this writing rut, plz. :D

EDIT: I can only promise slightly suggestive platonic things or just interaction out of the yaoi requests, aheh.~ ~~Unless Yumichika is involved, in which case then.~~

Speaking of which-- I asked you guys to comment to this meme in August and realised that I never had written responses to those of you, so. Here we go. ~~OMG I DIDN'T DO ANGST~~

Bleach- Inoue Orihime; spice for cuppa_calamity

Matsumoto's eyes began to water after she swallowed, and her brain began to process Orihime's references to her classmates' reactions in the past--

"But you see, Rangiku-san, I always thought that it gave the cookies an extra kick! Like the one that Tatsuki-chan taught me last October that makes boys bend over in pain. It's like a surprise attack!"

Orihime tried to demonstrate, but Rangiku thought that the cookies spoke well enough for themselves alone.

Bleach- Renji/Rukia; quickly for lanerose

"Oi, Renji! We're already going, and-- get your hands off of me! I can walk perfectly well on my own, don't push me along--"

"Then hurry up--"

The students in the hallway winced at the sound of palm meeting flesh and the "Bitch!" that followed obligingly afterwards.

"That's Abarai-taichou and Kuchiki-fukutaichou?"

"Mm. Late for another meeting."

"They fight like a married couple."

"As a matter of fact..."

"...No."

"Mmmm-hm."

Fullmetal Alchemist- Barry/Riza; cookies for terrierlee (I AM UNSURPRISED)

Barry thought lightheadedly (probably aggravated by the fact that his head was, indeed, detached from his body once again) that his kind of woman was definitely the kind who could both bake and use the involved implements as weapons.

Riza lowered the mixing spoon, wiped a fleck of flour off of her cheek (though it just smeared) and looked over at the gaping Falman. "What?"

Naruto- Neji/Tenten; pedantic for angstyalex (I failed.)

Tenten bent over the scrap with a brush, back curved in what looked to be an uncomfortable slouch, and though the strokes of ink on paper were sure, her knuckles were white.

"You don't need to concentrate that much," Neji said, inflection on the last two words. "You've done them before."

Mentally searching for an appropriate response, she bypassed 'hypocrite!' and 'you're distracting me' and asked, "Would you like me to test my experimental explosive tags on you, then?"

I'd love your feedback.~

[stellvia][31_days] Hindsight (No, I don't know.)

2005-11-04T04:48:46Z

I know that season two was cancelled, along with the next season of Nadesico, and I refuse to watch the last two episodes of Stellvia. Why?

-wails- Because then I'll have to acknowledge that it'd've truly ended.

/sentimental geek

Oh, I'll end up watching them. But before them: fic. Because I need to contribute to 31_d, because NaNo is Not Going and because there is none for the series. It makes me sad.

---
"I don't know what could have gotten it into Otoyama-kun's mind," Yayoi said aloud.

"Mm?" Ayaka looked up at her from where she lay on the floor, more or less using Yayoi's lap as a pillow.

"The idea that you could give him any good advice on what to do about Shipon," she clarified.

The youngest member of the Big Four gave Yayoi an admittedly childish whack on the leg, which was ignored. Yayoi continued, "Otoyama-kun is a genius, and he's an amazing pilot, but he doesn't have the first clue about girls."

"And I don't either? I'm a girl."

Amused eyes looked down at Ayaka from behind glasses. "And a genius, and an amazing pilot."

"What-- oh. Hey."

They remained amicably silent for a moment, until Ayaka spoke up again.

"What you should have said was that he's a genius at piloting but doesn't know the first thing about love."

"Really."

"Mm. Love is the one thing that makes all humans act irrationally."

Yayoi accepted the apology for what it was quietly and not for the first time.
---

A lame effort, but eeee. I'll go back to writing pieces of actual quality later. Does anyone have their character songs?

[bleach] Facets

2005-10-29T02:23:37Z

Bleach 201, yes? I COULDN'T RESIST. The first Bleach bit I've written sans Hinamori Momo in it in...months. Ahaha. It does have Toushirou, though.

Spoilers for 201 and minor Rukia memories; Not much, no plot, just a moment after Rukia learns its name and type.

It was a strange winter, with the sort of weather that was the most uncomfortable-- not in temperature, though it was cold, but just in general-- in, oh, ambiance; the air was eerily still and frigid and clung to every bit of warmth nearby.

And contrary to popular belief, Hitsugaya Toushirou was not pleased with this. He sat on the hill that overlooked the 10th Division's training grounds with a cup of quickly cooling tea, scowling at the diminishing cloud of steam evaporating from the liquid as if it was the cause of the weather. He preferred it when it snowed-- snow seemed to soften the landscape's harsh edges, but right now, it was just flat. And grey. And just cold.

Before he could grouch at the conditions any longer and seriously consider waking up Hyourinmaru, though, a figure surprisingly not much taller than he settled down next to him. He glanced off to the side and noted the girl-- she was the one who was in 13th Division, right? One of the nobles.

"Evening, Kuchiki," he said.

She gave a start. "Eh-- hello, Captain Hitsugaya."

"I heard you got promoted." He'd congratulate her, but-- it was terribly awkward when he'd overheard that the promotion was partly caused by shifting the seats to fill in the long-since-vacated ones left by the late Vice-Captain and his wife. Not that he listened to the scuttlebutt from the lower seats.

"Yes. Thank you." She shifted uneasily and pulled her scarf closer. He considered offering her some tea, but he didn't usually bother with mindless courtesies.

Toushirou decided to get to the point. "Did you have something to ask?"

Silence, then: "...Yes." She moved her hand to the hilt of her zanpakutou, and he tensed imperceptibly as she removed the sword, scabbard and all, from her sash.

Then he looked again. It was white. He looked up at her.

"She's an ice-element sword," Kuchiki said. He noticed that her hands, folded primly in her lap, were bandaged. The hems of her sleeves were slightly frayed and dark with water.

"You're having trouble controlling her now?"

"...Adjusting, yes. It's a learning experience."

He slung the strap of his own sword over his head and settled it in his lap. "If you listen to the gossip, you probably know that I took out half of the tournament grounds when I started training." (Hyourinmaru grumbled good-naturedly.) Scratching the back of his head-- genius, yes, but being younger-- he wasn't quite accustomed to giving advice. "Just remember while you're exploring her abilities-- and she'll have a lot-- fire has a wider reputation, y'know, but playing with ice...isn't really any less dangerous than playing with fire."

Kuchiki nodded. "I...yes. That makes sense. Thank you."

A small smile broke the noble mask, and her nose twitched as the first snowflake of the season landed on it.

~~her sword is the awesome!!!1eleventy~~

(Her sword's scabbard was still not white in the early episodes, was it? Perhaps she didn't discover her shikai-- or bankai, whatever factor made it change that color-- at that time. If so, this drabble is a moot point...it's all so intriguing.)

[bleach][writing dump] To crack and not-to-crack?

2005-10-27T17:55:00Z

Fanfic FST month over at fst. WOE BETIDE THAT...er...I've never written anything decent over 1000 words?

-shrug- Eh. Any such FST would probably be something along the lines of "Lira Enjoys Torturing Bleach Character[s]".

Anyway, whew! Hurricane Wilma hit us directly, I spent the better part of a day dragging debris out of the way, and I just recently got power back, but I'll spare you the details-- unless you're on my friendslist. ;D In short, I actually attempted to come up with something HitsuHina-ish in apology to those of my friends who don't support my love!!1 for AizenMomo.

...Whether I actually succeeded is up in the air. At the very least, I got the chance to write more Hitsugaya, which I'm glad for. Suffice it to say that being stuck in the aftermath of a hurricane without power for days provided me with much time to be attacked by bits of inspiration.

Wrote this today; Takes place right at the start of the Arrancar arc. Hitsugaya has some things to say before he goes.

Hitsugaya Toushirou didn't tiptoe about the place. It simply wasn't done; the sky was blue, the 11th Division was messed up, and Captain Hitsugaya walked around much of the Seireitei as if he more or less owned every patch of ground he stepped on for a moment. It was that sort of confidence which allowed him to command a squad of shinigami all decidedly taller than him.

Still, no one was denying him the right to walk very, very carefully toward the office-turned-recovery ward at the end of the Fifth Division compound. Captain Unohana smiled on her way out of the room and put her finger to her lips. "She's sleeping, Captain; please be quiet."

Inwardly scowling at the childish gesture but conceding-- though he was already quiet, feh!-- he nodded, and turned toward the room. Standing in the doorframe until he could no longer feel the spirit energy of the Fourth's captain nearby, he glanced at the room's occupant and found her eyes closed. He was too preoccupied with asking himself why he was there to realise that his hand had moved to touch her hair.

Jerking back to himself with a start, he began to pull his hand away but closed his eyes instead. Oh, no one's around, what does it matter? Kneeling at her side, he crossed his arms and leaned forward against the bed.

Even in sleep, her eyebrows were furrowed and her expression was troubled. Fingers twitching once of their own volition-- as if to smooth away the wrinkles on her face- wait, what?-- he shook his head. "Hinamori, I'm glad you're not awake right now, because it means that you won't make me feel like more of an idiot and I won't hurt you by yelling at you anymore."

"I'm heading down to Karakura, following the ryoka-- well, they'll always be the ryoka. But-- something's going to happen. The Hougyoku's gone, and--" the words caught, then moved on. "--there's- Aizen's probably the driving force behind anything that's going to happen next, Hinamori. We can't just sit and wait for him to make his move but that's all we can do."

"I don't know why you did any-- no, I can guess a hundred things, but only you know why you did what you did. If I see him, though, one of us is going to end up dying. I'm sorry not for what I might do or what he might do, but for what you--"

A pause. What in all frozen hells was he here for? Hitsugaya ran a hand through his ever-scruffy hair. "Soul Society's getting ready for war, and it's real this time. Just...take care, and...don't get swept away again-- just--"

He gave up, and his hand came to rest on hers. "Stay safe, Momo."

Turning and sweeping out of the room the way he came before he could change his mind, he fell into step with Matsumoto, who'd been waiting outside, and their walk to the rendezvous point was silent. Each thought of a different person.
-----
Hinamori Momo remained still, but a tear quickly slid out of the corner of her eye into her hair.

After all, guilt was her only companion now that he'd gone-- guilt for everything. Because while she was worrying for Toushirou and wouldn't know whether that had been the last she'd ever hear from him, she couldn't help but feel--

that he was luckier than her if he just had one last glimpse of Aizen again.
----------

...Yeah, so, we're not letting Lira attempt to write angstfluff again. Ever. Did I just OOC a shinigami?

Wrote this before the hurricane. Post-SS arc and completely irreverent. A million and twenty hinted pairings and obscure references. Shinigami commiserating.

The concerned figures of various female officers in the 13 divisions were gathered around a sobbing, quivering heap of fifth-division-officer crumpled on the tatami in an arbitrary female officers' lounge.

"A-and--" *hic* "-I could have sworn that I m-meant something to him--" *sniffle* "b-but he stabbed me and-- and now I'm just hereallbymyseeee--" Hinamori collapsed into Matsumoto, who, in her infinite charity, hugged her tightly and tried not to smother her with her ample chest.

Ise Nanao, sitting on Hinamori's other side, patted her on the back gingerly. Looking vaguely unsettled and as if she wasn't quite sure how to go about being sympathetic, she said uncomfortably, "Well, at least he didn't wear pink."

There was silence as the women present considered this.

"No," Hinamori said with considerable decisiveness considering that she'd been hyperventilating a moment ago, "I think he'd look good in pink."

Standing against the wall near them but at a polite distance, Soi Fong's eyes shifted. "At least sh-- /your/ person hasn't left you for a century."

"He m-might." Glare.

Kotetsu-- Isane, was it?-- handed her a tissue. "Hey, at least he's not dating a guy with a rabid pink pet chipmunk and a thing for blood." (Somewhere, two captains and a ball of supercharged sugar with a vice-captain's rank sneezed.) "Here, have some ice cream. Eating unhealthy amounts of ice cream always makes you feel better." She pushed a conveniently-placed bowl closer to her.

Her sister stopped the bowl. "You're Fourth Division, though. Aren't you supposed to make sure that we stay healthy?" Kiyone asked. "And is ice cream even supposed to exist up here? Or chipmunks?"

"...Plot point," offered Nanao.

Sage nods went about the room.

"Ah," Matsumoto said with the breezy air of the experienced, "at least he didn't completely just use you and lose you."

"...yes he did--"

"At least he wasn't using two people at the same time," a voice cut in.

There was silence as the women present considered someone not a woman.

"Kira," Soi Fong said at last, "what are you doing here?"

Matsumoto waved a hand lazily. "He counts."

"...Oh, okay," said Hinamori. She nodded understandingly.

(it's best to gripe about relationships in good company)
----------
I fail at humor. And I still manage to torture the characters. ;D

This can almost be taken as a more serious follow-up to the above; written at the same time before the storm. One year after conclusion of the SS arc. People coping with losses.

It was a year to the day and everything was the same. Everything was also different.

Hitsugaya strode down the corridors and past Matsumoto and Kira getting punch drunk out of their wits sixteen ways to Sunday (and perhaps next Tuesday too), past where he knew Shunsui, Ukitake and Yamamoto-sama were sitting quietly around a pot of tea, past the window overlooking the courtyard where Hisagi and Komamura were looking off into the distance;
he walked outside, past Soi Fong's perch on the rooftop, past where Abarai and the smaller Kuchiki were sleeping against the wall, and turned into the garden- easily missed- that he knew was unwittingly concealed.

Everyone was also coping in different ways.

And there-- there, he found Hinamori (his bed-wetter Momo but so changed, oh), fallen to her knees and staring at the sky, as if just pleading and willing someone long gone to please come back--

The only way he could keep himself from the sight was to pull her close enough to him so he couldn't see the raw anguish in her eyes, and so he did. He held onto her shaking body, whether for his dear life or hers he could no longer tell or care, and silently cursed the man planted in the heavens who had torn his precious person beyond repair.

And even as she clung to her childhood friend and drew strength from his arms, all Momo could think was that ice was just another form of water.
-----

-is shot both for bad writing and non-canon!ship-

Oh, and Bleach 200-- I just. Hitsugaya. So much love for. Gah. Chibi 10th div. captain staring down Arrancar going "Bitch, please."

And Bleach 201-- OKAY YES I AM WRITING SOMETHING WITH THIS NEW KNOWLEDGE COMING UP NEXT

(after I go to tennis practice. What? One of the courts is undamaged-- granted, the fence is bent, but the other courts have trees all over them. Oh, and did you know that wind can snap a metal lightpost? Snap. Twist-and-pull, really.)

[bleach][naruto] Writing dump?

2005-10-23T19:36:12Z

Well, I'm tired of homework and about to become very pwned by a hurricane named Wilma ~~Flintstone~~, so here I have two little bits of hastily scribbled writing for you. The first is a Tenten piece I conceived while I was sulking-- I'm actually thinking of writing a longer fic about her, but I've likely jinxed myself with that prediction. The second is a~~nother~~ Hinamori ficbit that's been dwelling in the recesses of my brain for...oh, three months?

Norm

When Tenten was five and had nothing to do, she studied her hands. They were almost incongruous with the rest of a human body, she thought, with skinny things branching off of them and really, no other part of her body was so...well, wiggly and flexible and;

when Tenten was seven, she discovered that she could touch the inside of her wrist with the thumb of the same hand- her mother screamed when she found her daughter on her floor with her hand bent inward at a sharp angle to her arm and Tenten merely blinked and straightened it out with a pop;

so when Tenten was eight, she entered the Academy with the knowledge that she was indeed strange, and expected her talents to be out of place, but it later turned out that long-skinny fingers were perfect to wrap around the handle of a kunai and double-jointed wrists made the shuriken spin just so and land dead center in the target with a thump that drew eyes from across the courtyard. What she would through her life find becoming only more true, as she grew, was that what was strange for a girl was the norm for a shinobi-- and helpful, and useful, and generally pretty nice.

When Tenten was an ageless girl-woman-child (age not truly mattering to the ninja who could die at young ages and become killers younger still) fighting alongside a demon, a very unique master of hard work, an avenger, a freed pawn of fate, and a village at some time or another, she mused that she was never really all that strange or unique anymore, even as she flicked her wrists back to a right angle and worked her hands into a whirlwind, in context.

----------

Fit to be Tied [working title, ahaha]

Matsumoto-san stretched from her position draped over the side of a couch, and the vice-captains present turned away. Whether it was due to the painful-sounding cracking of a joint or the opportune movement of clothing that the light blush across Hisagi-san's face would suggest was anyone's guess, and Momo wasn't truly up to picking one.

Neither was she up for the sudden question. "Hinamori, why do you wear your hair like that?"

The assorted vices were gathered and arranged haphazardly across the typical meeting room in various stages of polite disinterest or boredom. While captains' meetings were punctual, official, and far more dull, their vice-captains didn't truly bother with the guise of a meeting on some days. Truly, it was a place to dump the vice-captains while they were waiting for their superiors to finish whatever mess of bureaucracy was up for debate at the moment, and today was one of those times where No One Really Cared, so it seemed to her. After all, not even half had bothered to attend, and Abarai-kun was snoring somewhat indelicately.

Kira-kun nodded. "Ah, right; Hinamori-kun always used to wear her hair in..." He gestured vaguely to the side of his head.

"Pigtails?" she supplied, picking at the hem of her hakama. She, at least, was kneeling on the tatami, legs folded primly. "Um, my hair grew too long for that."

Matsumoto-san blinked. "Ah, but you still could. Was it such a bother?" she queried. "Or do you just think it got in the way too much?"

Momo hesitated, eyeing her colleague. Matsumoto-san's shimmering waves of hair looked remarkably untangled, and she shrugged. "No more than yours would, but it's more practical."

Of course, Tobiume had informed her helpfully when she'd become a ranked officer, hair was very flammable and the most prudent course of action would have been to cut it off entirely. She'd tied it up into a ponytail once, but the best way she could keep her hair long and not get caught in her own shikai was a bun.

Matsumoto raised one shoulder in a half-shrug with a yawn. "It makes you look more mature, anyway."

Momo did hope no one caught sight of the pink skittering across her cheeks then. As if on cue, the door to the adjoining room flew open, and the captains of Soul Society's Gotei 13 flowed out; after Kuchiki-taichou had unceremoniously knocked his subordinate awake and she'd waved to Hitsugaya-kun, she caught warm brown eyes behind lenses and scrambled to her feet.

Aizen-taichou smiled and placed a hand on her head, and her mind finished that train of thought for her. Another convenient reason as to why she kept her hair up was that Aizen-taichou had once mentioned that it was like a beautiful secret-- since her hair was always in a bun, it was startling that her hair was so pretty and long when it was down.

(Later, after all was done and he-- they were gone and little was said, she cut it for practicality's sake and Hitsugaya said in an oddly rough voice that it looked good anyway.)

Bah, humbug. Not happy with these; I'll try to revise them later, when I'm not facing imminent doom and much homework~

[bleach] Past and present in 115 words.

2005-10-17T00:39:42Z

Not exactly drabble-sized this time, but it ends on a multiple of 5, eh?

Because Bleach 199 deserves to be loved and loved hard ~~IchiOri, however one-sided~!~~ And I have no time to write anything longer, nor did inspiration come in a large package.

Orihime looks up from her comfortable position (neither of them particularly care about the oddity of it all, for oddity’s just another sort of norm), wipes her face and asks a question. "Who taught you to give such good advice, Rangiku-san?"

It's the timing of a stray cloud passing in front of the moon outside, the streetlight suddenly deciding to flicker- perhaps it's these things that send a chill through the air. She thinks it's because the smile on Rangiku-san's face has suddenly frozen, though not a muscle's changed position, and the older woman's voice is deceptively light when she says, "Ah, someone I once-- thought I knew, Orihime. But life's also a good teacher."