envious_muses (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
envious_muses) wrote2006-06-02 01:28 pm
envious_muses) wrote2006-06-02 01:28 pm
whee fic dump
Okay, so I've been in class these last few weeks, and it was SO AMAZINGLY BORING.. that I wrote more fic in class than I have since the beginning of the year. -_-;; heh, so yeah, fic dump.
First things first, had an FMA flashfic dump on ffn, so this account now has almost all of my FMA ficlets in one nice, neat package.
Now, on to the actual fics.
Okay, first up is a continuation of my semi-ongoing longfic (which, much like longcat, will hopefully be long) The Fuhrer's Blades. The first part can be found here.
Title: The Fuhrer's Blades
Series: FMA x King's Blades crossover (not entirely necessary to be familiar with Blades)
Rating: will probably be R eventually, PG for now
Word count: 1,275
Summary: Lord Mustang, formerly Sir Flame, has just been assigned a Blade, a human weapon second to none. Will this turn out to be a blessing or a curse?
Mustang had made this journey a fair few times himself, first as the Brat, then later as Prime candidate for his own binding. He’d never made it by the Fuhrer’s entrance, though, so it still managed to set his nerves on edge. He had caught a glimpse of a few wide-eyed faces, candidates seeing their future liege, the Fuhrer, for the first time, as he passed his horse over to a stablehand and followed the Fuhrer to the Flea Room, where candidates met their future ward. Their youth astounded him. He hadn’t remembered being that young before he was bound. The Fuhrer was greeting Grandmaster, which meant it would actually be his turn to speak soon.. Perhaps he might want to pay a bit of attention.
“-And this, as I believe you will recall, is Lord Mustang, Marquis of Ester.”
“Ah yes, Sir Flame. It’s good to see you again, brother.”
Mustang nodded and added a polite court greeting, feeling very naked and very little like a Blade with Wit’s familiar weight missing from his side.
The Fuhrer was not one to stand on pleasantries for too long. “Well, Grandmaster, tell me about my Blades.”
Grandmaster was a venerable old Blade, which was a nice way of saying he was an old cuss so used to holding Death off at sword point that he continued to do it even after his release from the Guard. He was also one of the few people willing to stare down the Fuhrer. He flicked a gaze at Mustang before responding. “How many will you be binding this time, sire?”
The Fuhrer laughed, which was usually a good sign. “One for Mustang, here, and then however many you’d like to spare for the Guard. Commander Strongarm tells me he has a few men he’d like to retire.” Strongarm nodded from his place behind the Fuhrer’s seat, as if it was a necessary confirmation of the Fuhrer’s words.
“Very well. I think I could probably let you have three right now with a fourth going as a single Blade. After that they’ve been fairly newly promoted. I’d like to give them a few more months.” Grandmaster looked like he was expecting the Fuhrer to challenge him and was surprised when he didn’t immediately do so.
“Ah, good, good. That will do fine. Tell me about the candidates.”
Grandmaster took a moment to compose himself under the Fuhrer’s gaze, which, as it usually did, looked something like a cat trying to decide if a mouse is worth playing with before he kills it. “Prime is Fullmetal. He’s a saber man, but almost as good with the rapier. Not the best we’ve ever had, but not the worst. He’ll hold his own against most opponents, but what makes him exceptional is that he’s as good with his left hand as his right. He’s quick, but he’s not your average Blade. Second is Redtree. He’s a good alchemist, but an average fighter. That will still put him above any ordinary swordsman. Bard is third, and he’s definitely making out to be a good brawler. Uses a longsword. Haven’t had many longswordmen in Ironhall lately, but he’s good. Marker is fourth in line, and I’m only willing to let him go because I think Blood will make a better Prime. Marker is going to need some polishing once he’s bound, but he should do fine with guidance.”
Mustang was surprised. He’d known Grandmaster always knew the candidates he was responsible for, but he hadn’t thought he’d know them that well, to rattle off their strengths and weaknesses so quickly.
“And which would work best alone?”
At that, Grandmaster paused. “I’d have to say Fullmetal. He’s the only one I’d trust on his own.”
“Very well. Call him. I want him bound tonight. We’ll be staying a few extra days so the Guard can try out the newer candidates. Will that work?”
“Of course, sire. We still have time to prepare for tonight.” Grandmaster went to the door opposite the one they had entered by and opened it. There stood the Brat. Either he had great timing or he’d been standing there since the Fuhrer had dismounted in the courtyard. Mustang smirked. He’d bet anything it was the latter.
The Brat was sent off to fetch Fullmetal and Redtree, and Mustang and the Fuhrer withdrew to the far corner reserved for future wards.. It was customary for only the ward and the Grandmaster to meet the soon-to-be-Blade, but no one told the Fuhrer he had to leave. That just wasn’t done, and since the Fuhrer didn’t leave, Commander Strongarm didn’t leave.
They didn’t have long to wait before a knock came from the door the Brat had been sent off from. At Grandmaster’s call to enter, two young men came through the doorway. Neither looked very old, but at the sight of the first - grimy, sweaty, and obviously coming straight from the practice courts - Mustang couldn’t help himself.
“Aren’t you a little short to be a Blade?” He had expected a response, but not the one he got.
“WHO’S SO SHORT THAT AN ANT COULD STEP ON HIM?!?” The candidate looked like he was ready to continue had the Fuhrer not interrupted him by laughing.
“Haha, Fullmetal, I assume? He’ll be perfect for you, Mustang.” He continued laughing while everyone stared at everyone else until he finally gestured for Grandmaster to continue.
“Oh, yes. Prime candidate Fullmetal. The Fuhrer has need of a Blade. Are you ready to serve?”
A dangerous glint came into Fullmetal’s eye as he glanced at Mustang before answering. “I am ready, Grandmaster.”
After the rest of the formalities, Fullmetal and Mustang were taken off to prepare for the binding. Eventually, Mustang was taken down to the Forge to bathe and meditate for the last few hours until the ceremony could start at midnight. Fullmetal, of course, was already there, seated with his back to the big anvill where he would be run through by his ward in a few hours. Mustang did his round of the tubs, washing in each in preparation for the coming ritual, noticing Fullmetal seemed to pay no attention to him the entire time. He’d either fallen asleep or he was very good at ignoring people. Mustang smirked. He would see about that.
Just as he was about to say something, though, Fullmetal beat him to it. “So you’re the person I’m gonna be stuck following around for the rest of your life, huh? Why would you need a Blade?”
Mustang wasn’t sure if he should be amused by the attitude or offended by the sentiment. “Is that a disappointment?” Many candidates dreamed of being placed in the Royal Guard, serving an easy ten or so years, then retiring. A private Blade served for life.
Fullmetal shrugged, never opening his eyes. “Better than sitting around on my ass at the palace with the rest of the dogs.” Well, that was certainly interesting.
Mustang settled down no the opposite side of the anvil from Fullmetal. He had hated this meditating when he was on the other side of the ritual, as well. At least then he’s had the excitement of what was coming to get him through the long hours of fasting and meditation. He heard Master Armorer come in and ask Fullmetal what should be inscribed on his sword. Mustang remembered cheekily telling the man to put ‘wit’ on his rapier. It had seemed like a grand joke when he was seventeen. He missed Fullmetal’s answer and made a mental note to look during the ceremony when he had the sword in his hands.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Title: Real Monsters
Series: Saiyuki
Rating: PG, just because I like that rating
Word count: 773
Summary: Hakkai muses on monsters
“Then one day those monsters just turned on us.”
Hakkai smiled politely to show he was listening. He thought Sanzo might be as well, but Gojyo and Goku were too busy fighting over the last egg roll or something. Hakkai wasn’t really paying attention to any of it, though. It was the same in every town. The villagers would tell stories about the awful demons who terrorized them, Sanzo would sit and smoke and adamantly refuse to help, Gojyo and Goku would fight over something until one or both of them got shot and, and Hakkai...
Well, he would sit there, smiling politely and not paying attention to anything. He could do this with his eyes closed by now. He had, in fact, done so several times. He was almost positive no one had noticed. Well, except Sanzo. Very little went on which Sanzo didn’t notice. Fortunately, very little of what Sanzo noticed did he comment on. Which was just as well.
The refrain was always the same. “Those monsters attacked with no warning,” or “We thought they were our friends, but they were monsters,” or “Monsters like that deserve to be destroyed.”
-that monster’s child growing inside me-
Hakkai blinked, nodding dumbly to show he knew exactly what the villager was talking about, and to give him an excuse not to acknowledge Sanzo’s pointed look. Instead, he reached for his egg roll... or he would have had it not been snatched by Goku moments before. He studied the meat bun still on his plate before shoving it over to Goku as well and silently getting up from the table. He could feel-
-that monster’s child-
-the others’ eyes on him as he left. Luckily, they’d managed to get four separate rooms at this inn. He sighed as he finally closed a door between himself and those who would consider him no more than a monster-
-that monster-
-if they knew. Hakkai moved to open the window as he felt himself starting to suffocate in the enclosed space. Why didn’t-
-monster-
Why couldn’t they see him for what he was?
-MONSTER-
“HAKKAI!”
He jumped, chi already forming around his fingertips as he turned to meet the owner of the hand that had just settled on his shoulder.
“Whoa! Hakkai! What th’ hell d’ya think you’re doin’? You weren’t answering me.”
Gojyo. Just Gojyo. Hakkai smiled, he hoped, reassuringly. “Oh, Gojyo. Did I get the wrong room? I’m sorry, I’ll fix that.” He would have started for the door, but Gojyo didn’t let go of his shoulder. His smile turned a bit dangerous. “If it’s not your room, why are you here?”
Gojyo had the grace to look nervous but held his ground. “Eh, Baldy an’ I flipped a coin. I lost.” If Gojyo was trying to lighten the mood, Hakkai was having none of it. “Look, Hakkai. Somethin’s up. Why don’t you just tell me what’s wrong and get it over with?”
“Nothing is wrong.”
-monster-
“Yeah, like hell nothin’s wrong. You’re a fuckin’ liar, Hakkai, and not even that good a one.” So Gojyo was a little unhappy. Hakkai could deal with that. He could.
-MONSTER-
And the sooner the better, apparently. “Thank you, Gojyo. I’m sorry to worry you, but I truly am fine.” There, perfect tone of voice, perfect smile. Gojyo looked more than dubious, and Hakkai knew he wouldn’t drop this indefinitely. Ah well, that was to be expected.
For now, at least, he allowed himself to be steered to the door. Hakkai closed it behind him then waited for the conversation he was sure would follow. He wasn’t disappointed.
“Well?” That would be Sanzo, eloquent as always.
“Well what, Sanzo?” Oh dear, he’d put Gojyo in something of a bad mood.
“Cut the bullshit. What’s wrong with him?”
“Hell if I know! Ask him yourself next time.”
Hakkai heard Gojyo storm off and moments later a door slammed farther down the hallway. For a moment, he thought Sanzo would get up the nerve to actually knock on his door. Luckily, for both of them, after a time he heard footsteps and a second door closing. Well played, he congratulated himself.
He sat on the bed, gazing out the window with a pensive expression and a chorus of a thousand voices crying out in his mind for mercy, crying out in pain and fear and hate, and a thousand more might have joined them if he included those he’d killed since becoming Cho Hakkai and leaving-
-that monster-
-Cho Gonou behind. Of course, they’d all been monsters, he told himself, and what right did a monster have for mercy?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I blame![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
youko_astarael for these next two. She gave me the damn muse.
Title: Broken Weapons and Final Rest
Series: Diabolo
Rating: PG
Word count: 190 and 228, respectively
Summary: BW-Ren thinks about the future. FR-Ren at the end.
He was the Sword.
The attacker. The destroyer.
He destroyed the corrupt bodies and souls of the unclean to release them to a final rest.
Rai was his Shield.
The defender. The protector.
Rai’s strength let him do his job.
Someday that strength would run out. It had to. They had a limited amount of time and they knew it. So they made the best of it. Yes, a lot of the time they had to fulfill their duties as Sword and Shield, as sinners and redeemers, but sometimes...
Sometimes they were just Ren and Rai, best friends since forever, trying to live as much in a short eighteen years as most people did in decades. Oh, sure, sometimes they’d toy with the idea of what they would do in a vague ‘after,’ but they knew better.
They knew they would die at each others’ hands, as they’d sent on so many others, but they would have no one to say a benediction over them. They didn’t try to fool themselves about that, either. They were the Sword and Shield, and no one would have a use for broken weapons.
~~~~~~
Mio...the one who had been Mio... whatever she was now... was a dead weight in his arms. They'd won. He would have laughed at that idea if he didn't think it would make him look even crazier than he already did, spattered with blood and carrying a dead six-year-old. He knew what was waiting, yet he continued down the stairs.
He’d done his duty. Rai was dead, killed by his Sword, just like they’d always promised. The diabolos were defeated for now, next time they would be someone else’s problem. His job was done.
He had been right about one thing- Rai hadn’t been able to kill him, had in the end conquered the demon inside himself to do his duty as Shield on last time.
There was the door. Outside waited.. well, what he’d truly always known was coming since they’d tried to make a pact with the devil and failed. Or succeeded. It depended on how one looked at it. He was ready.
He walked out the door, a Sword with a Shield, unprotected, vulnerable... alone. For just a moment, he felt pain, true pain for the first time since Rai became his Shield, but then... a warmth and, out of the corner of his eye, something that might have been the glint of light off a pair of glasses. Peace, finally peace.
I’m coming Rai.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
There, aren't we all sufficiently depressed now? So, finally, I have here... *drumroll* A GIFTFIC! :D Yes, a giftfic for dearyuuo who woke up my Roymuse, who now won't shut up. XD
Title: Not-So-Great Expectations
Series: FMA
Rating: PG
Word count:473
Summary: Roy has trouble with expectations.
He’d come expecting a man capable of bearing the title of State Alchemist. Instead, he’d found two children who, besides being children, were far from being in any shape to hold that title. One was more likely to become a state guinea pig within a matter of years if something wasn’t done. The other... The other would likely have had potential - he would have had to in order to survive his own stupidity - but now? Now he’d be lucky if he ever recovered enough to care for himself, let alone practice alchemy. But still... there was a chance. Roy threw out his name as a safeguard, just in case. Just in case these two could still achieve their potential despite this setback, he wanted them under his influence. He’d gone back to Central, not expecting to ever hear the name ‘Elric’ again.
~
He’d answered the phone expecting some drivel from Hughes about how wonderful soon-to-be-fatherhood was. Instead, he’d been greeted by a voice he had never heard but that he recognized anyway. The name only confirmed it. So he sent them on a mission. It was a situation he had well in hand, but he wanted to see how they’d react under pressure. At least, that’s what he told himself. He really wanted something to scare them off, keep them from the mistake they were heading for by coming to Central. He’d hung up the phone never expecting to see them in Central.
~
He’d registered them expecting them to score well but go home disappointed with an invitation to try again when they were older. Instead, not only did both prove him wrong, but within a few days he was sending the kid, the new ‘Fullmetal Alchemist,’ out on his first mission. Not that the boy hadn’t already been through more than most alchemists met on missions. Unfortunately, he’d run afoul of Gran. So he decided to send the kid and his brother out on the easiest mission he could find, just to get him far away from Central. He waved the ki- ...Fullmetal... out of his office never expecting a simple survey of a town called Youswell to be anything more than ordinary.
~
Over the years, Roy began to realize that expectations and the Fullmetal Alchemist seldom had more than a passing acquaintance. He learned to stop expecting and start trusting. Especially when things started to go very wrong. He hadn’t expected Liore. He hadn’t expected the homunculi. He’d known of the corruption in the government, of course, but he unfortunately never expected it to be as firmly rooted as it was.
So when he started in on what he expected to be a long, hard fought, bloody battle, he trusted that Fullmetal would be at his back; and for once, Roy was right.
First things first, had an FMA flashfic dump on ffn, so this account now has almost all of my FMA ficlets in one nice, neat package.
Now, on to the actual fics.
Okay, first up is a continuation of my semi-ongoing longfic (which, much like longcat, will hopefully be long) The Fuhrer's Blades. The first part can be found here.
Title: The Fuhrer's Blades
Series: FMA x King's Blades crossover (not entirely necessary to be familiar with Blades)
Rating: will probably be R eventually, PG for now
Word count: 1,275
Summary: Lord Mustang, formerly Sir Flame, has just been assigned a Blade, a human weapon second to none. Will this turn out to be a blessing or a curse?
Mustang had made this journey a fair few times himself, first as the Brat, then later as Prime candidate for his own binding. He’d never made it by the Fuhrer’s entrance, though, so it still managed to set his nerves on edge. He had caught a glimpse of a few wide-eyed faces, candidates seeing their future liege, the Fuhrer, for the first time, as he passed his horse over to a stablehand and followed the Fuhrer to the Flea Room, where candidates met their future ward. Their youth astounded him. He hadn’t remembered being that young before he was bound. The Fuhrer was greeting Grandmaster, which meant it would actually be his turn to speak soon.. Perhaps he might want to pay a bit of attention.
“-And this, as I believe you will recall, is Lord Mustang, Marquis of Ester.”
“Ah yes, Sir Flame. It’s good to see you again, brother.”
Mustang nodded and added a polite court greeting, feeling very naked and very little like a Blade with Wit’s familiar weight missing from his side.
The Fuhrer was not one to stand on pleasantries for too long. “Well, Grandmaster, tell me about my Blades.”
Grandmaster was a venerable old Blade, which was a nice way of saying he was an old cuss so used to holding Death off at sword point that he continued to do it even after his release from the Guard. He was also one of the few people willing to stare down the Fuhrer. He flicked a gaze at Mustang before responding. “How many will you be binding this time, sire?”
The Fuhrer laughed, which was usually a good sign. “One for Mustang, here, and then however many you’d like to spare for the Guard. Commander Strongarm tells me he has a few men he’d like to retire.” Strongarm nodded from his place behind the Fuhrer’s seat, as if it was a necessary confirmation of the Fuhrer’s words.
“Very well. I think I could probably let you have three right now with a fourth going as a single Blade. After that they’ve been fairly newly promoted. I’d like to give them a few more months.” Grandmaster looked like he was expecting the Fuhrer to challenge him and was surprised when he didn’t immediately do so.
“Ah, good, good. That will do fine. Tell me about the candidates.”
Grandmaster took a moment to compose himself under the Fuhrer’s gaze, which, as it usually did, looked something like a cat trying to decide if a mouse is worth playing with before he kills it. “Prime is Fullmetal. He’s a saber man, but almost as good with the rapier. Not the best we’ve ever had, but not the worst. He’ll hold his own against most opponents, but what makes him exceptional is that he’s as good with his left hand as his right. He’s quick, but he’s not your average Blade. Second is Redtree. He’s a good alchemist, but an average fighter. That will still put him above any ordinary swordsman. Bard is third, and he’s definitely making out to be a good brawler. Uses a longsword. Haven’t had many longswordmen in Ironhall lately, but he’s good. Marker is fourth in line, and I’m only willing to let him go because I think Blood will make a better Prime. Marker is going to need some polishing once he’s bound, but he should do fine with guidance.”
Mustang was surprised. He’d known Grandmaster always knew the candidates he was responsible for, but he hadn’t thought he’d know them that well, to rattle off their strengths and weaknesses so quickly.
“And which would work best alone?”
At that, Grandmaster paused. “I’d have to say Fullmetal. He’s the only one I’d trust on his own.”
“Very well. Call him. I want him bound tonight. We’ll be staying a few extra days so the Guard can try out the newer candidates. Will that work?”
“Of course, sire. We still have time to prepare for tonight.” Grandmaster went to the door opposite the one they had entered by and opened it. There stood the Brat. Either he had great timing or he’d been standing there since the Fuhrer had dismounted in the courtyard. Mustang smirked. He’d bet anything it was the latter.
The Brat was sent off to fetch Fullmetal and Redtree, and Mustang and the Fuhrer withdrew to the far corner reserved for future wards.. It was customary for only the ward and the Grandmaster to meet the soon-to-be-Blade, but no one told the Fuhrer he had to leave. That just wasn’t done, and since the Fuhrer didn’t leave, Commander Strongarm didn’t leave.
They didn’t have long to wait before a knock came from the door the Brat had been sent off from. At Grandmaster’s call to enter, two young men came through the doorway. Neither looked very old, but at the sight of the first - grimy, sweaty, and obviously coming straight from the practice courts - Mustang couldn’t help himself.
“Aren’t you a little short to be a Blade?” He had expected a response, but not the one he got.
“WHO’S SO SHORT THAT AN ANT COULD STEP ON HIM?!?” The candidate looked like he was ready to continue had the Fuhrer not interrupted him by laughing.
“Haha, Fullmetal, I assume? He’ll be perfect for you, Mustang.” He continued laughing while everyone stared at everyone else until he finally gestured for Grandmaster to continue.
“Oh, yes. Prime candidate Fullmetal. The Fuhrer has need of a Blade. Are you ready to serve?”
A dangerous glint came into Fullmetal’s eye as he glanced at Mustang before answering. “I am ready, Grandmaster.”
After the rest of the formalities, Fullmetal and Mustang were taken off to prepare for the binding. Eventually, Mustang was taken down to the Forge to bathe and meditate for the last few hours until the ceremony could start at midnight. Fullmetal, of course, was already there, seated with his back to the big anvill where he would be run through by his ward in a few hours. Mustang did his round of the tubs, washing in each in preparation for the coming ritual, noticing Fullmetal seemed to pay no attention to him the entire time. He’d either fallen asleep or he was very good at ignoring people. Mustang smirked. He would see about that.
Just as he was about to say something, though, Fullmetal beat him to it. “So you’re the person I’m gonna be stuck following around for the rest of your life, huh? Why would you need a Blade?”
Mustang wasn’t sure if he should be amused by the attitude or offended by the sentiment. “Is that a disappointment?” Many candidates dreamed of being placed in the Royal Guard, serving an easy ten or so years, then retiring. A private Blade served for life.
Fullmetal shrugged, never opening his eyes. “Better than sitting around on my ass at the palace with the rest of the dogs.” Well, that was certainly interesting.
Mustang settled down no the opposite side of the anvil from Fullmetal. He had hated this meditating when he was on the other side of the ritual, as well. At least then he’s had the excitement of what was coming to get him through the long hours of fasting and meditation. He heard Master Armorer come in and ask Fullmetal what should be inscribed on his sword. Mustang remembered cheekily telling the man to put ‘wit’ on his rapier. It had seemed like a grand joke when he was seventeen. He missed Fullmetal’s answer and made a mental note to look during the ceremony when he had the sword in his hands.
Title: Real Monsters
Series: Saiyuki
Rating: PG, just because I like that rating
Word count: 773
Summary: Hakkai muses on monsters
“Then one day those monsters just turned on us.”
Hakkai smiled politely to show he was listening. He thought Sanzo might be as well, but Gojyo and Goku were too busy fighting over the last egg roll or something. Hakkai wasn’t really paying attention to any of it, though. It was the same in every town. The villagers would tell stories about the awful demons who terrorized them, Sanzo would sit and smoke and adamantly refuse to help, Gojyo and Goku would fight over something until one or both of them got shot and, and Hakkai...
Well, he would sit there, smiling politely and not paying attention to anything. He could do this with his eyes closed by now. He had, in fact, done so several times. He was almost positive no one had noticed. Well, except Sanzo. Very little went on which Sanzo didn’t notice. Fortunately, very little of what Sanzo noticed did he comment on. Which was just as well.
The refrain was always the same. “Those monsters attacked with no warning,” or “We thought they were our friends, but they were monsters,” or “Monsters like that deserve to be destroyed.”
-that monster’s child growing inside me-
Hakkai blinked, nodding dumbly to show he knew exactly what the villager was talking about, and to give him an excuse not to acknowledge Sanzo’s pointed look. Instead, he reached for his egg roll... or he would have had it not been snatched by Goku moments before. He studied the meat bun still on his plate before shoving it over to Goku as well and silently getting up from the table. He could feel-
-that monster’s child-
-the others’ eyes on him as he left. Luckily, they’d managed to get four separate rooms at this inn. He sighed as he finally closed a door between himself and those who would consider him no more than a monster-
-that monster-
-if they knew. Hakkai moved to open the window as he felt himself starting to suffocate in the enclosed space. Why didn’t-
-monster-
Why couldn’t they see him for what he was?
-MONSTER-
“HAKKAI!”
He jumped, chi already forming around his fingertips as he turned to meet the owner of the hand that had just settled on his shoulder.
“Whoa! Hakkai! What th’ hell d’ya think you’re doin’? You weren’t answering me.”
Gojyo. Just Gojyo. Hakkai smiled, he hoped, reassuringly. “Oh, Gojyo. Did I get the wrong room? I’m sorry, I’ll fix that.” He would have started for the door, but Gojyo didn’t let go of his shoulder. His smile turned a bit dangerous. “If it’s not your room, why are you here?”
Gojyo had the grace to look nervous but held his ground. “Eh, Baldy an’ I flipped a coin. I lost.” If Gojyo was trying to lighten the mood, Hakkai was having none of it. “Look, Hakkai. Somethin’s up. Why don’t you just tell me what’s wrong and get it over with?”
“Nothing is wrong.”
-monster-
“Yeah, like hell nothin’s wrong. You’re a fuckin’ liar, Hakkai, and not even that good a one.” So Gojyo was a little unhappy. Hakkai could deal with that. He could.
-MONSTER-
And the sooner the better, apparently. “Thank you, Gojyo. I’m sorry to worry you, but I truly am fine.” There, perfect tone of voice, perfect smile. Gojyo looked more than dubious, and Hakkai knew he wouldn’t drop this indefinitely. Ah well, that was to be expected.
For now, at least, he allowed himself to be steered to the door. Hakkai closed it behind him then waited for the conversation he was sure would follow. He wasn’t disappointed.
“Well?” That would be Sanzo, eloquent as always.
“Well what, Sanzo?” Oh dear, he’d put Gojyo in something of a bad mood.
“Cut the bullshit. What’s wrong with him?”
“Hell if I know! Ask him yourself next time.”
Hakkai heard Gojyo storm off and moments later a door slammed farther down the hallway. For a moment, he thought Sanzo would get up the nerve to actually knock on his door. Luckily, for both of them, after a time he heard footsteps and a second door closing. Well played, he congratulated himself.
He sat on the bed, gazing out the window with a pensive expression and a chorus of a thousand voices crying out in his mind for mercy, crying out in pain and fear and hate, and a thousand more might have joined them if he included those he’d killed since becoming Cho Hakkai and leaving-
-that monster-
-Cho Gonou behind. Of course, they’d all been monsters, he told himself, and what right did a monster have for mercy?
I blame
youko_astarael for these next two. She gave me the damn muse.Title: Broken Weapons and Final Rest
Series: Diabolo
Rating: PG
Word count: 190 and 228, respectively
Summary: BW-Ren thinks about the future. FR-Ren at the end.
He was the Sword.
The attacker. The destroyer.
He destroyed the corrupt bodies and souls of the unclean to release them to a final rest.
Rai was his Shield.
The defender. The protector.
Rai’s strength let him do his job.
Someday that strength would run out. It had to. They had a limited amount of time and they knew it. So they made the best of it. Yes, a lot of the time they had to fulfill their duties as Sword and Shield, as sinners and redeemers, but sometimes...
Sometimes they were just Ren and Rai, best friends since forever, trying to live as much in a short eighteen years as most people did in decades. Oh, sure, sometimes they’d toy with the idea of what they would do in a vague ‘after,’ but they knew better.
They knew they would die at each others’ hands, as they’d sent on so many others, but they would have no one to say a benediction over them. They didn’t try to fool themselves about that, either. They were the Sword and Shield, and no one would have a use for broken weapons.
Mio...the one who had been Mio... whatever she was now... was a dead weight in his arms. They'd won. He would have laughed at that idea if he didn't think it would make him look even crazier than he already did, spattered with blood and carrying a dead six-year-old. He knew what was waiting, yet he continued down the stairs.
He’d done his duty. Rai was dead, killed by his Sword, just like they’d always promised. The diabolos were defeated for now, next time they would be someone else’s problem. His job was done.
He had been right about one thing- Rai hadn’t been able to kill him, had in the end conquered the demon inside himself to do his duty as Shield on last time.
There was the door. Outside waited.. well, what he’d truly always known was coming since they’d tried to make a pact with the devil and failed. Or succeeded. It depended on how one looked at it. He was ready.
He walked out the door, a Sword with a Shield, unprotected, vulnerable... alone. For just a moment, he felt pain, true pain for the first time since Rai became his Shield, but then... a warmth and, out of the corner of his eye, something that might have been the glint of light off a pair of glasses. Peace, finally peace.
I’m coming Rai.
There, aren't we all sufficiently depressed now? So, finally, I have here... *drumroll* A GIFTFIC! :D Yes, a giftfic for dear
yuuo who woke up my Roymuse, who now won't shut up. XDTitle: Not-So-Great Expectations
Series: FMA
Rating: PG
Word count:473
Summary: Roy has trouble with expectations.
He’d come expecting a man capable of bearing the title of State Alchemist. Instead, he’d found two children who, besides being children, were far from being in any shape to hold that title. One was more likely to become a state guinea pig within a matter of years if something wasn’t done. The other... The other would likely have had potential - he would have had to in order to survive his own stupidity - but now? Now he’d be lucky if he ever recovered enough to care for himself, let alone practice alchemy. But still... there was a chance. Roy threw out his name as a safeguard, just in case. Just in case these two could still achieve their potential despite this setback, he wanted them under his influence. He’d gone back to Central, not expecting to ever hear the name ‘Elric’ again.
~
He’d answered the phone expecting some drivel from Hughes about how wonderful soon-to-be-fatherhood was. Instead, he’d been greeted by a voice he had never heard but that he recognized anyway. The name only confirmed it. So he sent them on a mission. It was a situation he had well in hand, but he wanted to see how they’d react under pressure. At least, that’s what he told himself. He really wanted something to scare them off, keep them from the mistake they were heading for by coming to Central. He’d hung up the phone never expecting to see them in Central.
~
He’d registered them expecting them to score well but go home disappointed with an invitation to try again when they were older. Instead, not only did both prove him wrong, but within a few days he was sending the kid, the new ‘Fullmetal Alchemist,’ out on his first mission. Not that the boy hadn’t already been through more than most alchemists met on missions. Unfortunately, he’d run afoul of Gran. So he decided to send the kid and his brother out on the easiest mission he could find, just to get him far away from Central. He waved the ki- ...Fullmetal... out of his office never expecting a simple survey of a town called Youswell to be anything more than ordinary.
~
Over the years, Roy began to realize that expectations and the Fullmetal Alchemist seldom had more than a passing acquaintance. He learned to stop expecting and start trusting. Especially when things started to go very wrong. He hadn’t expected Liore. He hadn’t expected the homunculi. He’d known of the corruption in the government, of course, but he unfortunately never expected it to be as firmly rooted as it was.
So when he started in on what he expected to be a long, hard fought, bloody battle, he trusted that Fullmetal would be at his back; and for once, Roy was right.