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Reborn!/Death Note - [Mukuro/Light] - Social Deviance

2008-06-26T04:52:58Z

And I figured I'd flick this one up, too.

Pairing: Mukuro/Light
Warnings: PG
Notes: An older chat porn-off fic and a little shorter. I can't remember who requested this.

"Kufufufuuuu," Mukuro murmured, catching the sleek black of his glove between his teeth and giving it a tug, baring hands that had shed the blood of too many. But the man across from him had shed the blood of so much more.

Mukuro could respect that, the light of an ambition so singularly similar to his reflected in the eyes of the man across from him, but he had his own motives.

The glove was tucked away, his long fingers free to stroke the delicate, boyish face of the other.

"I would say, it would be best to work together," he began, voice low, the barest hint of amusement lining words as Light studied his face. He could hear the other's mind ticking away, thinking of a million and one ways to escape this situation. How mafia-like. "After all, our motives are not so dissimilar."

"But," he shifted, knee pressing in between the neatly ironed pants of the other as he leaned close enough to skim his lips against the soft flesh of the would-be king's ear, "Light-kun, there can only be one god of the new world and you are no more fit to rule it than I."

Reborn! - [Byakuran/Squalo] - Ladies and Gentlemen

2008-06-26T04:34:45Z

I- I feel like I've been neglecting this way more than I should.

Pairing: Byakuran/Squalo
Warnings: PG; Spoilers for Phantom Knight's fight.
Notes: Chat porn-off fic that went on longer than expected. For frenetic.

"A last matter of business," the Cervello had explained it away. Their agreement with the Varia had to come to a close before they could properly begin their work for him. All that was left was to oversee the battles of the so-touted second sword emperor and officially give him the title.

Byakuran had asked if he could watch. And it was very rare for anyone to say no to that.

Battle after battle. If was possible, he'd watch it, raising the stakes in his own ways for the fighters. He was particularly fond of the final battle, one he'd had as much a personal hand in as possible. And, once the title was declared, he had left, brushing through the crowd, jacket in hand.

Before he hit the steps to the outside once again, he heard the footsteps behind him.

"Hey, you!"

"Ah?" a head cocked over his shoulder. At the bottom of the stairs, the Varia's knight, still dripping from his battle, stood. His sword glistened in the dim light of the hallway as he glared up. Byakuran's lips curled into a smile as he turned. "Congratulations, I believe, are in hand."

"Who do you thi-," Squalo almost snarled, cut short as Byakuran pressed a long-fingered hand against his chest.

A kiss, short and frank. The chastity of it seemed somehow tainted by the fact that neither of the two were entirely pure. The close press of their bodies soaked Byakuran's white vest through, even as his hand brushed Squalo's fisted prosthetic.

And just as he had initiated it, Byakuran broke it with a slight smile, his calm gaze meeting Squalo's confused one, "Next time, you can kill me for it, hmm?"

Bleach - [Aizen/Hitler] - Untitled

2008-05-28T18:47:51Z

Pairing: Aizen/Hitler
Rating: R
Notes: WRITTEN ON A DARE. I DON'T EVEN KNOW.

Aizen smoothed back Hitler's hair, pressing his cock deeper into the German's mouth with a soft sound. He had found the other in Rukongai, one of the stranger spiritual pressures discovered during his exploration of the area and, he had found out, one of the more useful for relieving his tension while he plotted.

... Namely, revenge against his captain, at the moment. How he'd love to see him and the other idiots that filled the ranks understand how small their precious world was. The thought alone was intoxicating enough, without the warm, friction that surrounded his cock as Hitler took him deeper.

Their tryst had been a surprise to even Aizen, but it was hardly a surprise that they got along in Aizen's mind. The only problem with the man on his knees before him was that he hadn't aimed high enough. He hadn't aimed for the heavens as Aizen was. The vice captain's fingers tightened in the slick, dark hair beneath them as he groaned, spilling into Hitler's mouth.

"Excellent work, as usual," Aizen murmured, wiping himself off as the other rose and leaning back against the walls of the small home in Rukongai. Idly, he watched as Hitler slicked back his hair and paused, an idea dawning on him.

Bleach - [Mayuri] - Starting Out Right

2008-05-09T22:04:19Z

Title: Starting Out Right
Characters: Mayuri
Rating: PG
Squicks/Spoilers: -103-ish
Summary: Mayuri works on making sure his position is secure.
Author's Note: Part of a shinigamikendra meme with bellumina, inspired by Akon's appearance in -103. Originally posted here.

Power was a fascinating thing to Mayuri. He'd never actually believed he was weaker or lesser than anyone, of course. But, finally grasping that power made him realize how much more he could be, how much more he could possess with a little more effort.

Urahara had been a fool for extending this job to him, but Mayuri certainly wasn't against taking it from him, especially with the added stipulation of what it meant should Urahara somehow fall out of the way, something he intended to see happen when it was convenient enough for him.

For now, though, there were other more important things to see to. The other twelfth division members had gotten used to him quickly enough. Never used to his skulking about, of course, but they had learned that arguing with their commander's decisions was rarely worth the time and effort when he could brush them away with a smile and an honest faith in the fact that it would all work out in the end.

But, Mayuri wasn't interested in them. Shinigami, yes, they had all been raised like him, brought into the academy and formally trained. Somewhere within the cog work of his brain, he understood that they looked down on him, someone who had been locked away shortly after their graduation for unsavory ideas and even more unsavory 'modifications' to his own body.

They'd never understand his work, never understand the importance or structure of it all.

No, in order to properly do his work, he'd new, fresh minds, untouched by the cold-cut atmosphere of the academy. He'd need to go into Rukongai himself.

The children there were gaunt and unfriendly and he lurked there for months, picking from amongst their ranks the ones with the most potential.

No, not potential in terms of spiritual strength. He'd leave those to the academy itself. But, the thinkers, the swindlers, those children whose brains were sharp enough to escape the harshness of Rukongai simply by pulling strings in their favor.

Their spiritual energies didn't have to be high, but since he'd taken them when they were young enough, given them a life better and more interesting than it might have been in Rukongai, their sense of loyalty would be especially high.

And, once they were well-trained, he'd be more than ready to take the division.

Code Geass - [Lloyd/Laksharta] - Improvements

2008-05-09T21:56:36Z

Title: Improvements
Characters: Lloyd, Laksharta
Rating: PG
Squicks/Spoilers: If you know them, you're good
Summary: Laksharta watches the news.
Author's Note: Part of a shinigamikendra meme with bellumina and written as a companion piece to the second fic here. Originally posted here.

Laksharta always watched the news. Whether she cared for most of what was on it doesn't matter so much as the fact that, for someone in her position, watching it was a matter of necessity. Not to mention, Diethard would have a fit if at least one of the regular news feeds wasn't hooked up in the vicinity (Some people had drug addictions. Diethard had an information addiction).

So, she watched, when she had the time. Time they had a lot more of without Zero's brain constantly ticking away at plot after plan, she mused, lips resting on the tip of her pipe.

Most of what was on the public access channels was garbage, fluff stories about local government efforts and the nobility doing the obligatory photo op or press conference, because the public was ever interested in the lives of the rich, famous, and potentially powerful.

But, sometimes, there would be footage that would make her smile, especially when the media had caught word of her own misdeeds. Never credited, of course, but she didn't need credit to know what was hers. She recognized it and that was all that really mattered.

She leaned back on the couch, lidded eyes watching in amusement as the reporters turned to commentary on the latest bombing, a particularly fine achievement in her opinion, even if the pair of talking heads hadn't caught onto the particularly fine aspects of it or weren't allowed to by their superiors.

Either way, she was certain someone somewhere would have caught onto them. Laksharta lazed, catlike on the couch as the news switched it its next piece, more propaganda. She had leaned forward to mute the sound, tempted to nap, when a familiar mobile frame caught her eye.

He'd been making improvements, since last she'd seen it. In particular, the boosters...

She frowned a little at the sight, the short clip fading to a montage of other scenes from the news story, before mashing the mute button once more and hopping off the couch.

She had work to do. Things to do better.

Reborn! - [Basil] - Something to Stand For

2008-03-07T05:47:48Z

Title: Something to Stand For
Characters: Basil
Rating: PG
Squicks/Spoilers: Circa Varia arc?
Summary: Basil feels uncomfortable.
Author's Note: Ahahaaa... orz I really don't know why so many of my Basil fics turn out to be angsty introspection. Written for a speedfic challenge with bellumina, calmingeffects, and shadowgirl1605, prompt was 'A surge against silence'.

It was quiet and that fact, above all else, dwelled heavily on Basil's mind. He didn't like the fact that there was no one else home, not even his Master's wife.

It would have been fine. He didn't mind staying by himself at all, but he remembered the transmission from hours ago. Nothing, there was no word or sign of his teammates back home in Italy. For once, in this whole wondrous time he'd been in Japan with his Master's family and their friends, he was afraid. He didn't like to think that they were alone in the Vongola base without him. He didn't like the fact that he hadn't heard from them since they'd gone in.

Starting on the dishes, Basil hummed a little to break the silence, at first just a tuneless note and then a stronger chorus filled in the gaps. He remembered it well. It was the first song his master had taught him as they laid out beneath the stars, Iemitsu's arm holding him close, keeping him warm through the chill of the night like a surrogate father might.

It was odd, but no matter how firm Iemitsu was with him while they trained together, he never failed to show Basil how much he cared. Iemitsu had found the perfect combination of discipline and softness and Basil felt he had grown from that.

He'd learned how to take orders without question at the same time Iemitsu was teaching him how to catch and cook his own meals, often with a warm laugh, a hand on his shoulder, and an offer to share what he had found.

That kindness had always made Basil want to strive for more gentle pats on the back, reminders of his master's approval.

It was cold in this place without it. He knew Iemitsu would want him to be strong, but Iemitsu and the others had always been his backbone, the courage to do what needed to be done. Without it, he was almost afraid.

He stiffened as a hand reached over to snag a plate from the dishrack.

"I thought you'd be at the hospital with mom," Tsuna laughed, awkwardly, starting to dry the dish with slight smile, "But you know, you don't have to do this."

Basil blinked and then shook his head, "Thou art correct. But this one truly doth like helping out."

Slowly he realized, that there was something else he had to protect here. Something very important to him, worth standing strong for until he could return to his master and the others.

Reborn! - [Verde, Lal Milch] - You Come in Burned

2008-03-06T23:39:59Z

Title: You Come In Burned
Characters: Verde, Lal Milch
Rating: PG
Squicks/Spoilers: If you're up-to-date with the manga, you're good.
Summary: Verde's figured it out.
Author's Note: Characterization challenge with bellumina. Character was Verde, prompt was 'you come in burned'.

His name was appropriate, all things considered, Lal Milch thought, flipping the card over in her hand. Verde, only appropriate for the Arcobaleno in possession of the green pacifier. Her hands, much larger thanks to the corruption of her own curse, palmed the card, slipping it back into her pocket.

This was the place. At least, this was the place, if Verde hadn't seen fit to move. He wasn't connected to the Vongola, but it didn't seem like the newly formed Millefiore were feeling very discriminatory as far as that was concerned.

She lifted the mask she wore, the best protection against the area's radiation, in hopes that Verde, being the obsessively private and suspicious character that he was, would recognize her from the security feed. She stomped the dirt off her boots a little, visor-covered eyes trying to pick out the glint of cameras or even a defense system.

It wasn't surprising when she couldn't pick out more than a few of the carefully disguised devices, but found the leaves shifting practically beneath her feet to reveal a door.

It seemed the Vongola weren't the only ones driven underground.

"Seven seconds and I'm closing it, Lal," a familiar voice crackled from the rocks above.

Lal wasn't one to need a second warning. A quick scan of the door proved enough and she slipped on another ring, dipping into the darkness below.

It took longer than she'd have liked to adjust to the light down below and she frowned, hating the fact that her body was failing her like this. Not yet, she told herself. Lal couldn't let herself fail until things were set right. Colonnello was working towards that. She had to do her best, too.

Couldn't let him beat her, right? she smiled a little, mirthlessly.

The path she was meant to take was obvious as soon as she'd settled, getting her bearings in the tight corridor. Lal Milch drew in a slow breath and began to move. The air felt almost dead still in this place, unearthly even with the warm, wet smell of the earth from above still lingering in her nose.

The floor beneath her, however, was freshly cleaned, at least as much as was possible considering the environment the lab had been built in. The hallway seemed impossibly complicated, like Verde had always seemed to be, those few times the Arcobaleno had worked together, however rare it was.

She reached up to touch the pacifier as she walked, steady, easy steps. She could see what she hoped was the main lab from where she was. The pacifier, dimly glowing, was a strong assurance that Verde was still here, still alive. That was enough reassurance, even as she stepped into the main lab.

And almost stepped back out again.

The bright lights of the lab were different from the ones in the hall and as her eyes adjusted again, all she could see was the body laid out on a table and Verde, standing silent above it.

"V-," she swallowed, eyes fixed on the body, "What sort of sick joke is this?"

Verde's green eyes shifted to meet hers, but he didn't move from where he stood. His gaze drifted back to the monitors against the wall, "I can't talk to you like this. Come inside, Lal."

Lal sighed, eying the body on the table again. She didn't want to see it. Another one of them gone before she could do anything, without her even knowing until just now. But, she'd come this far to find out what Verde wanted. It was only fair that she heard him out.

"We found him a day ago," Verde began, "We've been taking steps to keep him preserved until we can do a proper autopsy, but you can probably guess what happened."

Yeah, she could guess pretty damn well what had happened, the same thing that had been happening to all of them. But, Verde's eyes, calm in the face of her shock, pressed for answers she didn't want to give. From anyone else, she could have handled this death, but his eerily calm composure, not even marked with the hard-love tactics of Reborn, made this harder.

"Them," she finally replied, voice blunt and tired, lifting her gaze from the body, "But you could have just told me. I didn't need to see-"

"Oh?" Verde raised an eyebrow, "This isn't for closure, but I thought you could use it for that as well." He shifted, gloved fingers just barely grazing the metal surface of the table as he passed it, closing the distance between them.

"What I wanted you to notice," he continued, lifting that hand to the pacifier that hung freely from her neck, "Was that something was missing."

"Miss-," Lal gaped, stepping back a little, eyes darting towards the body again. It was gone, that bright red pacifier than marked the other. "But, how? They don't just... disappear when you die."

Verde quirked a little smile in return, "I think I've figured out what they're after, Lal. I just need you to hold onto yours for a little bit longer."

Reborn! - [BelSqualo] - Normal

2008-03-03T03:50:32Z

Title: Normal
Characters: TYL!Belphegor/Squalo
Rating: PG-13
Squicks/Spoilers: If you're up-to-date with the manga, you're good.
Summary: Belphegor isn't normal.
Author's Note: Speedfic with bellumina, shadowgirl1605, and liralen~ Prompt was 'you can close your eyes'. orz So rushed.

Belphegor, Squalo had long realized, was not normal. Well, as a whole the Varia was far from normal, not just because of their vastly superior skill sets, but it took a special sort of person to make a career out of killing and sanity took second place to the morally corrupt nature that this line of work tended to require. But, Belphegor was beyond the normal of the Varia, in a way that only a boy who could stand on equal footing with men tended to be.

He had a way of setting a little tinge of fear into the hearts of everyone he interacted with. It was something about the way he smiled, Squalo thought, that bare smile in the face of everything and anything he came across. Squalo, who was pretty damn sure he'd seen it all, even had to admit the way Belphegor looked, the way he acted, unsettled him a little, like a tiny curling in the pit of his stomach. It almost made him want to lash out, make that very rare 'o' of surprise form on Belphegor's ever-cheerful lips.

It was rare he felt that urge as strongly as he did at that moment. Squalo snarled, nose wrinkling a little at the fake prince that perched idly on top of him, knife on his throat.

He was laughing, that stupid, breathy laugh of his, cheeks flushed with the barest strains of just how much getting them into this position had taken. Squalo, really, was not one to go down easy by any means.

"The prince is victorious again," he smiled, reaching forward to brush Squalo's long bangs back to press a sloppy kiss onto his forehead, before jerking back away from the punch that followed.

"You can close your eyes next time," he assured Squalo, "It's more romantic that way."

Squalo cursed, wiping away the spit on his face. Disgusting. Disgusting and definitely not normal, ever.

Bleach - [Arrancar] - Pieces

2008-02-28T17:02:39Z

Title: Pieces
Characters: Apache, Cirucci, Di Roy, Grimmjow, Il Forte, Lumina, Luppi, Nnoitra, Szayel Apollo, Tesla
Rating: PG-13
Squicks/Spoilers: If you're up-to-date with the manga, you're good.
Summary: Little pieces of the parts that make up Hueco Mundo.
Author's Note: Some older snip-bits from a go at the music meme from a while back.

Cirucci didn't like to admit when she'd lost her number, she'd lost more than a black number on her chest. Losing that tiny patch of skin had stolen a part of her she'd never thought be without.

It was easy to think she was better than anyone else when she had the status to prove it. It was easy to hold her head up high when she knew there were only a few above her.

It was harder to admit that now there were hundreds above her. It was harder to be proud of her rank when she saw those who had stolen it from her, childish hollows who'd have waited more than a hundred years to taste the chance of the power she'd gained by ripping off her mask if it hadn't been for Aizen and his hougyoku.

She reached down, fingers brushing against the sleek dark hair of one of those hollows, one of the ones who had been beneath her just months before, one who now deigned to grace her with his presence in Tres Cifras. And, somehow, she had to admit a taste of pride in the fact that they still needed her, that she could drag them down this low for a taste of her.

- - - -

Lumina pressed his fingers together, before splaying them, giving him just enough lift to spring down the hallways of Las Noches.

Light, light, bright, bright. He knew where he was going, he did. He'd been well-educated on the castle's layout. He even knew secrets, secrets he wasn't supposed to tell anyone, oh no no no. The other Espada weren't supposed to know that he knew about them, their secret little hiding places.

Szayel Aporro-sama would scold him, after all. Naughty, naughty. Things like this would get them all in trouble. They'd all get eaten and that wouldn't be good at all, no no!

That's why he had to be careful, darting around the heels of servants and lesser arrancar. He wasn't supposed to be found, no no. This was just as secret as any of the other secrets that Szayel Aporro-sama had trusted him with, yes!

And, then, there it was. He crotched, drawing upon his strength, and with an easy bounce, he launched himself into the rafters with a laugh.

- - - -

Nnoitra's back was a comforting thing to watch and, even before he'd adopted the tall, spoon-like hood, he'd always stood well above the others of the Espada. But Tesla truly doubted that without it, he'd have any trouble finding the other.

He'd never understood it, what drew him to the other arrancar. It wasn't like the other fraccion. At least, he thought it wasn't. It wasn't that Nnoitra was strong or that Nnoitra had promised him things. Nnoitra had never given him any incentive to follow him. He'd never even asked.

Tesla had simply done it on his own and Nnoitra had just grown to accept the fact that he was there. Like pieces of a puzzle, they'd slowly fit together.

- - - -

Blood was a familiar thing to Grimmjow. It didn't matter whose it was, even if it was his he could always get more. He just knew that he liked it, the strangely comforting feeling of the warm of it against his fingers, turning tacky in the warm air of the place they'd learned to call home.

The smell of it had just grown to be something he didn't even notice unless it was gone.

It was half why he didn't like this place. He didn't enjoy this hole where they dressed up like humans and played house with a shinigami. He didn't like the fact that the only way he'd smell blood was if he crushed some weakling or had to ask for it.

Fuck that. Fuck that, he thought.

- - - -

Halibel was beautiful. Apache had never fully understood how or why she felt this, but she'd been drawn to her. It had never been a dilemma of pride to bow her head to the other woman. She simply recognized the beautiful strength that Halibel held in her stillness.

Apache knew she never could have followed any of the other Espada after seeing her. And, when Halibel had asked her, blue-green eyes meeting hers with a sharp directness, she hadn't stopped to think. She'd only answered as if she'd been waiting to give it her entire life and sometimes, she truly believed that she had been.

- - - -

He'd never understood Aizen, not from the time he'd come to them, not even when he'd sworn his loyalty to him. All that Nnoitra had ever understood was how strong he was. It wasn't hard to see, of course. The others had gone up against him and been crushed easily.

It stirred something in Nnoitra to watch that, driving him more than a little crazy. He wanted that power. He wanted to find a way to get that strength. And, when Aizen had looked for volunteers to submit themselves to the hougyoku, Nnoitra had been one of the first to bow his head to it, just for a taste of that strength.

He knew he couldn't beat it now, but Aizen's reign wouldn't last forever. Slowly, but surely, he'd get stronger. Nnoitra knew this. He'd fight as much as he could, beat anyone who stood in his way to get to the top. And, then, then when Aizen's reign was starting to falter, before he lost that strength that Nnoitra so admired, he'd be the one to cut him down.

- - - -

Strength wasn't exactly one of his best aspects. Di Roy would proudly admit that any day. He wasn't some dumb muscle-head like some other arrancar he could name. Sure, he wasn't exactly winning any arm wrestling contests or shit like that, but at least he wasn't tottering after some blank-faced loser who talked like a reject from one of those bad science fiction films he didn't like to remember that he'd watched as a human.

He liked to think that the fact that he was fast and smart well made up for crap like that. Who needed rippling muscles (not that Di Roy would like to admit he was scrawny, though) and fists the size of your average human trash, when you were genius enough to beat them without all that?

- - - -

Szayel's elegantly gloved fingers splayed against the skin, thick and dead beneath them. Gently, he began to spread it apart. He'd long grown used to the smells of his fellow arrancar after they were dead. He'd known them even before when he was a hollow.

He'd learned early on that defeating people face to face was troublesome. He wasn't a fighter. He wasn't interested in that beyond the necessary doldrum of forcing another into submission. He didn't see why the others were so entirely obsessed with things like that. Even when Nnoitra spoke of it, what little he did speak of it, Szayel only understood on a rudimentary level and considering it was Nnoitra he was speaking to, he was more than happy with that.

No, he'd long grown to understand that when he opened a body, he'd understand much more about its owner than if he had spent days or weeks speaking with them.

- - - -

Il Forte hated his brother, but it was comforting, at least, to know that the feeling was more than mutual. Siblings were rare enough in their number, but that fact had certainly inspired no particular measure of love between them. Rather, it had only served to increase the distaste held between them.

As hollows, they'd worked together well enough. Il Forte loved to fight and he didn't mind being used by his brother to crush whoever stood in their way in return for what medical help and pointers the other had for him.

It was only as arrancar that the difference between them slowly began to drive them apart, made worse as Szayel began to find other arrancar to use, stronger arrancar, ones that didn't complain or could be dropped without that annoying little family connection.

Il Forte hated it. He hated the fact that Szayel was getting stronger and, more importantly, he wasn't getting stronger with him. He was beginning to see his limits and when Szayel was accepted into an Espada spot and he wasn't, it was made all the more clear.

- - - -

Luppi hummed to himself, slipping free of the ledge he'd been perched on. They were back, at least one of them was. And like a vulture to carrion, he followed, feet light against the pure white of the halls of Las Noches. He could smell the blood, almost taste it on his tongue.

Grimmjow had gotten hurt. How fun was that? He'd been injured and none of his stupid little lackeys were lingering about after him. The fact that he wasn't running his mouth about with his usual lines sent Luppi's tastebuds tingling. Grimmjow had messed up quite a bit, hadn't he?

Oh, this was more than beautiful. He couldn't wait to hear and see this.

Reborn! - [Byakuran, Shouichi] - Straight Through It

2008-02-26T04:05:07Z

Title: Straight Through It
Pairing: Byakuran, Shouichi
Rating: PG
Squicks/Spoilers: If you know the characters, you're good.
Summary: Shouichi doesn't go down easily.
Author's Note: Speedfic challenge with bellumina and shadowgirl1605~ Prompt was 'won't go home without you'!

Shouichi didn't know when he'd felt this sore last. Basic training? Since when was this even remotely basic? He didn't even think he could name some of the muscles he felt like he'd pulled. Byakuran had laughed and said it was good exercise, but even in PE, a subject Shouichi had long learned to fake his way out of, he'd never had to work this hard.

He leaned back against the wall, slipping off his glasses and digging for something to wipe them with.

It wasn't even like he wanted to learn how to fight anyways. That was what the other family was for. He huffed under his breath, finally finding his handkerchief and scrubbing at the lenses a little. He didn't even know why he had to do this in the first place.

"Geeze," he squinted, rubbing at his eyes before he slid them back on, fingers brushing against the still warm skin of his face. He almost wanted to take them off again as he saw who was approaching.

Byakuran's smile was almost deceptively cheerful, hiding all sorts of malice and terror behind it. It sent chills up his spine no matter how much Shouichi tried to fight it, no matter how much Shouichi assured himself that the other really wouldn't hurt him.

It didn't help erasing the mental images it painted. Shouichi could all too easily imagine that smile mixed with the blood and torture he'd seen, even in the more cloistered and clean-cut White Spell.

"Impressive, Shou-chan," Byakuran's tone was almost as gut-curling as his smile and as he knelt by the other, closing in the proximity between them, it only got worse, "I'm proud of you."

Shouichi pulled himself up, trying to neatly put distance between them without letting the fact that his skin wanted to crawl off and leave his abused muscles to fend for themselves as obvious as he felt it was.

"... What's next?" he pushed, forcing himself to look at the other directly. The only way to get through this was to go straight through it.

Byakuran blinked and then laughed.

Bleach - [Cirucci] - Almost Too Cruel

2008-02-26T03:27:05Z

Title: Almost Too Cruel
Pairing: Cirucci
Rating: PG-13
Squicks/Spoilers: Up to post-Szayel fight.
Summary: A reflection in her moments of dying.
Author's Note: Speedfic challenge with bellumina and shadowgirl1605~ Prompt was atonement!

Her skin puckered oddly around the hole he'd left in her. She still smelled rank, the heavy odors of burnt skin and sweat almost too much. But, they, in this in-human world, had long grown used to such things. Bodies, blood, it seemed all they were all they knew in this plane, all they knew besides the power that brought them those.

Pale hands took her on orders that weren't from their only master. They worked swiftly. There were so many invaders and not enough of them. Whether she was alive or dead didn't really matter.

They dragged her up, like a broken doll, oblivious to her tears, her last choked gasps. Pathetic, they all thought. Sadly, so did she, through that veil of fear that crept along her senses.

Now, more than ever, she was helpless, completely at the mercy of forces than herself. She scoffed, blood trickling from her mouth. When had that happened? When had she let herself become so powerless? When had she let things descend to this?

She would have sobbed if the air could come to her lungs. She knew where this was leading. She knew where this was going and she could stop it. Shaky hands formed fists they didn't have the energy to keep. So soon. So soon. She wasn't ready for this.

Why did they have to take it away? Take it away like they'd taken everything from her? Her number, her dignity, her pride...

All that she had left was her life.

How pitiful. He'd thought it a kindness to leave her like that.

She would have spat, if she wasn't too busy gagging in pain at the hooks they'd buried in her, hanging her like so much meat.

It was too cruel. And that stupid quincy would never know.

Sket Dance - [Agata/Tsubaki] - Taking Responsibility

Summary:

Belphegor wonders if Squalo's scared.
Author's Note: Part of a speedfic challenge with bellumina and evilchiapet. Prompt was 'fear'. MIGHT WIN THIS TIME.

Like a cat, Belphegor stretched, yawning. There was a weight on his chest and an ache everywhere that told him that he hadn't just been sleeping because he was tired. He reached down, fingers idly touching the slender metal band that hung from the necklace at his neck as he wondered just how much blood he must have lost to have passed out like that.

"One pint, two pi-," he paused mid-lit as he lifted the ring to his obscured eyes. It felt different than before.

"That's right!" he whispered to himself, slipping a bony finger through the band with an air of contentment as it rolled neatly on, the chain only a mild irritant to his skin, "The prince was victorious as ever."

"And I'm winning tomorrow," Squalo gruffly intoned from the doorway.

Belphegor's eyes flickered to the taller form of his fellow Varia and a smirk curled over his lips. It would be so fun if the other did fail tomorrow. After all, a flawless victory for the Varia would be too perfect, too simply wrought. A loss would make Xanxus' game seem all the more real.

Besides, he'd like to see the look on Squalo's face if he lost, all red and angry. Oh, before he died, that was. Belphegor closed his fist, shifting it so that the ring could catch a different strain of light. The gun metal gray of the ring didn't catch like most ornaments, but, then again, it was a mafioso's ring. It wouldn't do to have a shiny patch of jewelry giving him away.

He lifted his head away from the bed just enough to press his lips to the surface of the ring.

"You're not scared?" he asked, idly, the ring still dangling freely just scant millimeters from his lips.

"Heh," Squalo snorted, yanking one of the overstuffed chairs that filled Belphegor's temporary suite over and settling in it with a determined flop. He wasn't anywhere close to scared. He'd seen his opponent and the only thing he'd felt was excited, hungry for his fight and ready to finally see the end of this farce, "Don't make me laugh. The sooner I kill that katana-flinging brat, the sooner we'll be back in Italy."

Belphegor was silent, his breath moving the ring in the air back and forth over his lips, "The sooner you'll be the leader of the Varia."

Squalo's eyes widened a bit at that. The thought had been so far from his mind, pushed out of the way in favor of Xanxus this and Xanxus that. He'd given up so much for the other man, pushed aside all his dreams in favor of Xanxus' rage-filled one.

"Maybe I should kill you first," Belphegor mused, breaking Squalo's silence, "I wouldn't mind leading the Varia. Boss' seat looks awfully comfy. A prince's seat."

"Why you-," Squalo growled, starting up from his chair as Belphegor pulled one of his ever-present knives from wherever he seemed to keep them.

"But not now," he hummed, content at seeing the surprise in Squalo's eyes, the sudden uneasiness in the other Varia's expression. He fed off of that, "Let's see if you win first, huh?"

"When I win," Squalo corrected, sharply, still eying the other with a hint of what was that? Fear? Anger? He pushed it out of his mind, "I'll make sure you don't have the chance."

With that, he pushed out of his chair, stalking off down the hall. Belphegor began to snicker again.

Reborn! - [Various] - The Legend of Hibari Kyouya

2007-09-09T22:55:12Z

Title:

The Legend of Hibari Kyouya

Pairing:

Gokudera, Yamamoto, Tsuna, Reborn, Hibari

Rating:

Squicks/Spoilers:

None

Summary:

The gang muses on Hibari's origins.
Author's Note: Part of a speedfic challenge with bellumina and evilchiapet. Prompt was 'firsts', which kind of got lost in here. UM. I- idk what my excuse is this time.

"That guy's inhuman," Gokudera grumbled, watching as Hibari sent a freshman flying with the end of his tonfa, slamming him into the ground before unleashing another flurry of strikes onto the already prone form. He shuddered at the idea that anyone even considered them in the same league as protectors of the tenth.

"G- Gokudera," Tsuna chided, eying Hibari with a wary eye from their seemingly safe place on the roof. It seemed superstitious, but even mentioning the other's name was like tempting fate and asking for the head of prefects to appear.

He freed another chunk of rice with his chopsticks and watched as Hibari began to drag the freshman along the school grounds, the creeping feeling along his neck making him grateful that it wasn't him, even as Yamamoto let out a heart laugh at his side.

"He certainly seems like a robot sometimes," he took a sip of his water bottle.

"Inhuman, he might be, but he's certainly not a robot," Reborn chimed in, appearing as if out of nowhere, with an uncanny sense of timing as always.

Tsuna stumbled back in surprise, gaping, "Re- Reborn! What do you mean? Hibari-senpai can't really be-" he gulped, glancing down through the bars around the top of the school building at Hibari as he found another victim.

"He certainly can," Reborn nodded, settling down between Gokudera and Yamamoto and pouring himself a cup of tea from his own cannister as if he'd been sitting there the entire time, "Ciaosu."

Yamamoto chuckled, "What do you mean by that, then, little guy?"

"It's quite simple," Reborn continued, sipping at his tea with an almost perfect flair for the dramatic, "He's actually a spirit."

"A- A what?" Tsuna gaped incredulously. There was no way. Reborn had to be pulling his leg. Hibari was weird, that was for sure, but... a ghost?

"That makes perfect sense!" Gokudera slapped his fist against his palm with a nod and Tsuna had to mentally groan. Gokudera couldn't seriously be falling for this.

"This school's been in existence for many years," Reborn continued with his usual tone, as if neither of them had interrupted. "It's seen hundreds of students throughout the years and it's gained a certain spiritual aura over time."

"To put it quite simply," he finished, taking another sip of his tea, "Hibari Kyouya is the love for the school that hundreds of students have felt in human form."

Tsuna gaped, watching as Yamamoto and Gokudera nodded along. What the hell? Seriously, what the hell? They couldn't...

The sound of the door to the roof cut off his thoughts and he stared at the new-comer with a different sort of horror.

"What are you all doing up here?" Hibari asked, a vicious turn crossing his lips, "Mingling?"

Reborn! - [BasilTsuna] - To the Future

2007-09-09T22:14:28Z

Title:

To the Future

Pairing:

Basil, Tsunayoshi Sawada

Rating:

Squicks/Spoilers:

Early Varia arc spoilers

Summary:

Tsuna doesn't want this.
Author's Note: Part of a speedfic challenge with bellumina and evilchiapet. Prompt was 'optimism'. orz I LOST, BUT ONLY BECAUSE I HAD TO EAT DINNER HALFWAY THROUGH.

"I'm really sorry, you know," Tsuna stumbled over the words as he curled his hands against the fabric of his jeans. This whole mafia thing was stupid and had been a bad idea from the very beginning. He wasn't cut out for this, even the others thought so.

And, here, he was being confronted with yet another reason why he wasn't. What were they thinking letting some boy who looked just barely his age risk his life to bring him these terrible rings?

The worst part was these hadn't even been the real rings!

He bit his lip, looking at the bruises and the cuts that lined the other's arms. It was too cruel, this world that Reborn wanted to throw him into. And it wasn't just him, it was his family now. It was Gokudera, who looked up to him so much, and Yamamoto who had such a bright future that he shouldn't be letting himself get tangled up in these awful situations. What if he got himself hurt on Tsuna's watch? What if Yamamoto died just because of this stupid mafia game that he always thought they were playing?

Tsuna felt the barest traces of hot tears trickling over the lower lids of his eyes. He couldn't do this, not anymore, not with so many lives on stake. He couldn't let his friends, these strangers, or anyone else risk their precious lives for him, not for 'No Good' Tsuna.

"I can't...," he breathed, cursing himself as he felt that tell-tale lump in his throat, cutting off his breath, making it hard to swallow.

The soft hand that covered his almost made him jump, the seat he was resting in flying backwards with the sharp movement.

That boy, Basil, was looking at him, with the barest traces of a smile on his lips, "This one believes in thee, Lord Sawada."

"But- I- Aaaah! What are you even doing awake!?" Tsuna scrambled backwards, gaping at him, "I didn't mean to wake you up! In fact, you should be resting. I mean-"

A weak laugh escaped from Basil as he shook his head, eyes fixing on the ceiling, "This one was honored to serve you."

"I- Eh? What?" Tsuna gaped, stopping in his protests. There was no way. No one should look that happy about almost getting killed. For him of all people!

Basil's blue eyes were almost piercing as he looked over at him, solemn and calm, as his brow wrinkled, "Don't worry thyself. This one will recover. Thou should regain thine strength. This one is counting on thee to be strong where he couldn't."

Tsuna bit his lip, guilt sinking like a rock in the pit of his stomach, almost shaking his head. But, how could he protest? Pathetic, he chided himself. They were doing this for him, but he couldn't even tell them they didn't have to.

"I'll do my best," he said, weakly.

Reborn! - [BelSqualo] - Sneakalude

2007-09-09T21:20:50Z

Title:

Sneakalude

Pairing:

Belphegor/Squalo

Rating:

PG-13

Squicks/Spoilers:

None

Summary:

Little white lies never hurt anyone.
Author's Note: Part of a speedfic challenge with bellumina and evilchiapet. Prompt was 'shower'. orz I lost so bad.

Personal space wasn't just a Varia thing, but it seemed all the more pertinent amongst them. After all, there was something a little dangerous about letting a man who could kill you lean on your shoulder or help put on your jacket. That wasn't to say that they didn't have a camaraderie that relied on the fact that none of them felt a particular urge to go out and kill the others on a regular basis, but it did mean that when Squalo took a shower, he expected to take it alone...

And not being confronted with a naked and humming Belphegor the second he walked into his own personal bathroom.

"Heeeeey! What the hell do you think you're doing?" he snapped, one hand lowering to hold the towel tied to his waist steady. Belphegor had a shower of his own or at least one he shared with Marmon, Squalo didn't poke around in the personal affairs of his fellow Varia enough to know offhand, but he did know that Belphegor had no right using his.

The smaller assassin didn't even bother to look through the sheer plastic that offered only the barest privacy. When Squalo had bought it, it was for the purpose of keeping an eye on whoever entered the bathroom while he was busy showering. He never expected to have it used against him like this.

Belphegor stretched, the little smile on his lips the only sign that he'd actually heard Squalo's loud complaints in the first place, grabbing one of the bottles and popping it open to take a nice long sniff, "Hey, this is different than the stuff you usually use, huh?"

"Don't touch that!" Squalo snapped, yanking back the curtains and fumbling for the knob to turn the water off, "And I'm not playing around!"

A spindly hand tightened against his wrist, putting a stop to any effort of his to turn the water off and Belphegor's smile grew as he looked up at the other through a mop of wet, blond hair, "Mine's broken. Yours works nice."

Squalo's eyes narrowed. It was hellishly hard to tell if the other was lying or not. After all, there was hardly a time when Belphegor wasn't smiling and the fact that his eyes were consistently obscured by a layer of hair made it even harder to read him. He gave his wrist a jerk, letting the faucet spray a heady burst of cold water over both of them as he tried to drag the younger assassin out of the shower.

"Use someone else's!" he growled, trying to extricate himself from creeping, wet fingers as Belphegor struggled to keep his position.

"M'not done yet!" Belphegor protested.

"Now you are," Squalo gave another tug, sending them both toppling over onto the floor, the smaller assassin beaming as he landed on top, letting out a little snicker before attacking once again.

"Heeeey! What ar- Nngh!"

-----

The suite Belphegor shared with the youngest of the Varia's members was quiet, just as Marmon liked it. It made it all too easy to hear when the other assassin entered, whistling to himself.

"Where were you?" Marmon grumbled, tugging his small towel off the bed with him.

Belphegor stooped to pick Marmon up, flicking at the black mantle, "Visiting Squalo. He made a biiiig mess."

Marmon's eyes flickered towards him from under the shade of his hood as Belphegor continued, "I think I need a shower. Ushishishi."

Bleach - [Kuukaku, Grimmjow] - Boom Boom Baby (Fanfic 100 - #22)

2007-08-30T13:22:17Z

Title: Boom Boom Baby
Characters: Shiba Kuukaku, Grimmjow Jaggerjack
Rating: PG-13
Squicks/Spoilers: None
Summary: Kuukaku thinks Grimmjow needs to GTFO.
Author's Note: Random fic-bit that's been sitting around on my laptop for a while. Used as fanfic100's #22 prompt, Enemies.

She cracked her knuckles as she set out onto the field, her dark hair sweeping lower against her back as she observed the other with cool eyes. So, this was what an arrancar looked like, huh?

Well, she'd always figured they'd be awfully ugly, coming from hollows and all, but this one took the cake. Hell, even Ganjyu could manage to squeak by him looks wise if he dressed up real nice for the occasion. Her bare feet touched the grass with a comfortable familiarity.

This was her turf after all. She had the home town advantage, if you could call it that. And, for coming on it, this sack of shit had better have a pretty damn good excuse. Not that she'd listen to it until she made sure he learned not to come onto it again.

"Can't say I blame you for hating the shinigami, with you bein' a hollow and all," she drawled, blowing out a puff of smoke from the long pipe in her hand. She couldn't be assed to drop everything she was doing to deal with this punk.

"Yeah?" Grimmjow matched her tone, the potent energy in his frame apparent. He was figuring out just how the hell to deal with this bitch. She wasn't making this little visit to the Soul Society as easy as it looked. "So, you're gonna-"

"So," Kuukaku cut him off, not liking it when people interrupted her, especially when it made for much longer conversations that she figured she liked having. "I'm gonna aim for that hole in your chest. And that's gonna be your warning shot."

She shifted her pipe to light the first bomb, "Now, that's the only one you're gonna get. But, I ain't gonna cry if I miss and hit somewhere else. In fact," she grinned and her lips promised Grimmjow his fair share of violence, "I'm counting on it missing."

Bleach - [Mayuri] - MS AU Self-Induced Amnesia

2007-08-27T11:34:06Z

Title: Self-Induced Amnesia
Characters: Kurotsuchi Mayuri
Rating: G
Squicks/Spoilers: None
Summary: Mayuri comes across some things he'd rather not.
Author's Note: Based off the mercy_street_rp AU.

It's Sundays like these he hates the most. He's called just minutes before he leaves the apartment and is told to stay home. They've overstaffed and he isn't needed. Nemu's already left to run an early errand, the apartment is dead silent.

He tries returning to his study, opening up folders of work, trying to engross himself in the papers, trying to do something in this lull. But, he doesn't seem capable of focusing on any of it. Even when he returns to the kitchen and makes himself a cup of coffee (the only one, likely, for the day, as he keeps his caffeine intake in moderation). The silence only seems to get worse, working its way into the crevices and depths of the apartment, curling around him like a monster.

He doesn't like it. Agitatedly, he puts aside his work, stalking from the room and eyeing the clock once more. What seems like it has taken hours at least, seems to have really only taken about thirty-eight minutes. He loosens his tie and goes to change into more comfortable clothes, a polo shirt and khakis, likely the most casual clothes he has. Also, the least worn pair of clothing in his closet.

When he pulls down the pants he blinks, catching sight of a long blue cylinder. Something he knows he threw out ages ago, despite the lengths he went to rescue it after his parents' death.

A feeling of nostalgia almost rises from the base of his stomach, like bile. Something deep, bizarre and forgotten from long ago. He doesn't think Nemu's even seen it, he's kept it packed away for so long. He pulls out the long blue cylinder and digs deeper, finding the accompanying boxes, each labeled meticulously with a black magic marker in stark, almost mechanical lettering.

A surgeon at heart, Mayuri carefully opens each box, taking out the contents with ease before opening the long blue cylinder. The tripod base is easy enough to unfold after the first few tries, the metal creaking in protest. The long white screen is a lot easier to unroll and attach, well-worked from years of use.

Mayuri settles, digging through the boxes, exploring the neat rows of tiny rectangles before putting in the final piece, plugging in the machine. The fan whirs steadily to life under his touch and he begins to switch the tiny rectangles with an almost mechanical ease.

He doesn't recognize most of what's in the first few slides, hazy memories from when he barely reached his father's waist. He knows that the person behind the camera wasn't him, though. He flicks through them all, slowly going through the rows, reliving old family vacations. If it weren't for the labels on each, Mayuri doesn't think he'd remember exactly when and where these were from.

He does recognize, however, the faces, so dim in his own memory. He remembers his brothers' faces. He knows his own, smoothed with youth and, he almost scoffs a bit, innocence. The rows go onward and suddenly he isn't half as young, he's graduating, smiling out into the yellowed distance. And then, the angles and lighting begin to change a bit.

Mayuri begins to appear less in the slides, the old camera abandoned by his father has found its way into his hands. And then there's the pictures of his brother's wedding. His brother's wife, her pale face wane even in the dim light of the slides smiles out at him and Mayuri's finger pauses on the button.

He stops there, hesitating for a few seconds. He has almost forgotten how she looked, the way she smiled and moved almost without thinking. Now, all he sees in her face are the barest traces of resemblance between her and the child she left behind.

The fan stops its whirring and the machine sputters out its last breaths, her face flickering before finally dying. The nostalgia's gone almost as quickly as it had grown.

The slide projector finds its way to the trash that afternoon, each slide stained beyond hope of redemption. As Mayuri lifts the trash bag to hoist it into the dumpster, he calls Nemu and tells her he'll be going in to work.

The Arrancar should have something for him to do.

Reborn! - [One-liners]

2007-08-22T09:35:59Z

From this meme, still going.

Lussuria/Ryouhei - work out

As Lussuria's hand traced down Ryohei's chest, the boxer started to get the feeling that this dare had gone way to far. He jerked back, head hitting the wall, "I DON'T THINK THIS IS GOING TO WORK OUT TO THE LIMIT!"

Squallo/Xanus - feathers

Squallo's touches were precise and feather-light as he worked down the other man's chest, careful not to spring his hair-trigger temper. Unfortunately, the effect seemed to be just the opposite as Xanxus slammed a knee to Squallo's crotch.

"If I wanted a fuck with foreplay, I'd ask Lussuria," Xanxus grumbled.

Squallo/Bel - It won't stop dripping

Squallo pulled away, making a face at the bitter taste of Belphegor's spunk that had come in a surprisingly large burst for the smaller assassin. He swallowed with a grimace and leaned forward to start lapping up the rest when he realized Belphegor was giggling to himself.

"What!?" he shouted, drawing away from the softening cock.

"I- It won't stop dripping," Belphegor laughed, reaching down to smear come across Squallo's cheek.

".... Just shut up."

Bel/Squallo + lucky charms

Squallo shifted back in the chair, letting Belphegor's more agile hands do the work in removing his clothes. Jacket and shirt fell in the wake of the smaller assassin, defeated by a speed only arousal or personal danger could induce. It was a pity the feel of Belphegor's hands finally against his bare chest was ruined by the sticky feeling of what had to be from Belphegor's latest eating fascination.

"Uooi!" Squallo grumbled, fumbling to grab the other's black coat and drag him off, "At least wash your hands before you- Augh."

Mukuro/Chrome + Srs Bsns

Chrome leaned back in her chair, biting her nail almost absently as she studied the computer screen. Sometimes even she forgot that her body parts weren't exactly real. Sometimes she even preferred it.

"Mukuro-sama?" she asked, in the quiet of the hotel room she was sharing with her other half's subordinates. "What does it mean when they say the internet is srs bsns?"

The voice in her head went silent for a few seconds before coming in blunt and clear, "Chrome, I believe it means you need to get off the internet."

Xanxus/Squallo + Shatter

He couldn't see the other as they gathered up his body, torn and abused by flames he couldn't control and rings that wouldn't accept him. Squallo didn't see him in the weeks afterwards as they were each tried for their crimes and found in want.

But, when he did see Xanxus, the torn skin beginning to heal and scar, Squallo knew he'd do what he always did. He'd bite his tongue and pick up the pieces.

Shamal/Gokudera + mid-range weapon

Shamal drew the struggling teen closer to his chest, dark stubble irritating Gokudera's cheek as he chuckled, "You feel that? That's my mid-range weapon."