it's too dark in here

Times Have Changed; We Are Made New (Meiling/Tomoyo)

2009-11-23T14:59:30Z

Title: Times Have Changed; We Are Made New
Fandom: Cardcaptor Sakura
Length: 866 words
Prompt: For various: Meiling/Tomoyo fluff.
Pairing: Meiling/Tomoyo; background Syaoran/Sakura
Other: n/a

Excerpt: When she'd left Japan, they'd barely been more than strangers. Now Tomoyo was practically her best friend, but all she could remember standing here was the way her shoulders shook, the way that Tomoyo held her, when she was crying, all those years ago.

It had been a long time since Meiling had seen Tomoyo-- not since she'd spoken to her, but since she'd seen the other girl in person. When Meiling had returned to Hong Kong, a letter had arrived only a couple of days later. There was nothing in it about Meiling's tears or the evening they'd spent together; it was simply Tomoyo's cheerful handwriting, detailing the classes she had missed, the antics of their friends, and offering in her casual script the warmth of comfort.

And Meiling had written back. By the time that Syaoran had returned from Japan, Sakura's promise shining in his eyes, she was over her loss. It wasn't that she had forgotten what Syaoran had meant to her; she was simply learning how to make that relationship new.

Somehow, no matter how boring she thought her days were, there was always something to tell Tomoyo. Syaoran was curious at first, but after a while the two of them settled into a Sunday afternoon ritual. They would sit in Syaoran's living room and write, in a comfortable air of concentration, before eating dinner with the family. Their letters would be posted Monday morning.

Ever after Syaoran went back to Japan, Meiling continued writing to Tomoyo. The Japanese girl was bright, insightful, and sometimes funny. Meiling found her extraordinarily easy to confide in. Tomoyo coached her gently through a couple more heartbreaks, and listened to her stories about family and duty and life.

Meiling was seventeen when Sakura and Syaoran got engaged. She was terribly proud of her cousin, but surprised when she received an invitation that week from Tomoyo to visit, separate from the engagement announcement (which Tomoyo had of course crafted herself).

The day before the party, Meiling arrived on Tomoyo's doorstep, a little uncharacteristically uncertain. When she'd left Japan, they'd barely been more than strangers. Now Tomoyo was practically her best friend, but all she could remember standing here was the way her shoulders shook, the way that Tomoyo held her, when she was crying, all those years ago.

Tomoyo opened the door and captured Meiling in a hug, and Meiling forgot her worries entirely. Tomoyo was taller, older, but the same person. She took Meiling's bag before she could protest, insisting that Meiling stay with her instead of at a hotel, and led her into the next room, talking all the while. She was sparkling and sweet when she spoke about Sakura and Syaoran; there was no sadness or regret in her at all. Meiling was glad to see it, but unsurprised. Whatever Tomoyo felt for Sakura, she would not let it interfere with Sakura's life. She had taught Meiling how to be selfless with her own love for Syaoran.

When tea had been served and Meiling settled next to Tomoyo on the couch, the flood of chatter ceased abruptly. Meiling looked at the other girl, for a moment uncertain. Tomoyo smiled back.

"Li-san," she began, but Meiling interrupted.

"Daidouji-san, really, you can call me Meiling, if you want."

"I would like that very much," Tomoyo said. "And you must call me Tomoyo, then." She leaned forward and brushed a stray hair from Meiling's face. Her fingers on Meiling's skin were somehow cool, or perhaps Meiling was warm. She was surprised by that, her mouth curling a little into a smile.

"Meiling-chan," Tomoyo said, "I need to tell you something. I told Sakura-chan that I would tell her what I really meant, when I confessed to her, when she was older. But the time for that has passed."

Meiling blinked. She hadn't realized that Tomoyo had honestly confessed to Sakura. Of course, she wasn't surprised that Sakura had misunderstood. Sakura was a little dense in that way; hadn't she told Syaoran that herself?

"I would like you to understand," Tomoyo continued, her voice soft enough that Meiling leaned closer to hear, "that when I say that I love you, I mean that you are my number one, Meiling-chan."

Meiling exhaled in surprise and Tomoyo didn't move. She smiled brightly. "I didn't think you'd know unless I told you. You and Sakura-chan can be quite alike sometimes."

Meiling laughed and then she leaned forward and threw her arms around Tomoyo's neck. She breathed in Tomoyo's soft lavender scent and felt the comfortable way that their bodies fit together. It was not the same hug that she'd received when Tomoyo greeted her. It was more of a promise.

She was amused with herself for not realizing. And here she'd always thought that Sakura was the clueless one when it came to romantic feelings. But now that the words had been spoken, it all made sense. She pulled back and pressed a kiss to Tomoyo's forehead, enjoying the radiant smile that the other girl gave at the touch of her lips.

"You are my number-one too, Tomoyo-chan," she answered, folding her into a hug again.

When they arrived at Syaoran and Sakura's party the next afternoon, holding hands, the engaged couple exchanged a knowing, amused glance. Meiling and Tomoyo didn't even notice.

Reach (Will gen)

2009-11-23T14:50:17Z

Title: Reach
Fandom: Glee
Length: 227 words
Prompt: n/a
Pairing: Will gen
Other: n/a

Excerpt: Mr. Schuester really believes that they are good kids.

Mr. Schuester really believes that they are good kids.

Quinn is pregnant, and Puck is always in trouble for fighting. Rachel is a drama queen and Finn tries too hard. Kurt is terrible at staying in the closet, Mercedes relies on the person she thinks she should be, and Tina won't talk. And there's the rest of them, with their own little faults and problems.

But they are good kids, and he believes that with the conviction of someone who has no children of his own. The strange thing about it is, when he believes in them, they want to believe in themselves. And it is that attitude that will take them to Nationals.

No one wants to disappoint Mr. Schuester. The girls fear Sue and the boys listen to Mr. Tanaka, but they all actually like Mr. Schuester, even if he is wide-eyed and idealistic and has no idea, half the time, of what's going on.

Maybe he'll figure it out when Mrs. Schuester gives birth-- that kids are people, really, and that the idea of high school that he has is totally different from reality. But the Glee Club hopes that he doesn't.

They need his belief to succeed. They can lean on him. And that makes him the best teacher they have-- maybe not in Spanish, but for dreams.

They all keep reaching.

Paid In Full (Doumeki/Watanuki)

2009-11-23T14:46:32Z

Title: Paid In Full
Fandom: xxxHOLiC
Words: 1961 words
Prompt: springkink: 17 Nov - xxxholic, Yuuko, Doumeki/Watanuki (Yuuko leaves the Shop and all attendant contracts to Doumeki.): long term high pressure situation - Set a fool to roast eggs and a wise man to eat them.
Pairing: Doumeki/Watanuki pre-yaoi, mostly gen.
Other: AU as per prompt. Does some weird things with mixing past and present.

Excerpt: The next day he goes to school, because if a customer needs him, they'll find him. Watanuki has told him the story about the trip to Ginza and he knows about the twins Watanuki and Yuuko had first seen in the supermarket. Yuuko was good at being in the right place at the right time. He supposes he'll find out whether that is deliberate or not.

She leaves him the shop, and this fact gives Doumeki pause.

It gives Watanuki pause as well, and then ammo for a thousand diatribes, which Doumeki ignores by virtue of long practice. He sits there on the porch next to the slip of paper delivered to him three weeks after Yuuko disappeared. The paper looks old, perhaps because it's stained with alcohol, and it curls up at the end.

"You've paid," Yuuko wrote. "The shop is yours." She signed it with a butterfly and his fingers brush against its wings as he shuts his eyes and thinks.

"I have no idea what she's talking about!" Watanuki is saying again, flailing his arms. (Doumeki doesn't have to have his eyes open to know that his companion is all irritation and elbows.) "What does she mean you paid? All you've done is drink her booze and drive me insane!"

"That's what she always did," Doumeki points out calmly. He doesn't think he's inherited the shop for this reason, but he knows it will distract Watanuki into another rant, and he can think if he sticks his fingers in his ears.

There is a lesson in this. There is a reason.

(Hitsuzen, Yuuko would say, leaning back against the porch languorously. He thinks that the memory is a dream, perhaps not even his own dream, but Watanuki's.)

"And you can't even see half the things I can see--" Watanuki is saying, and Doumeki shakes his head, because sharing an eye, sharing blood, means that he's learning to see all over again. His arrows still fly true but he can see the things that plague Watanuki, the things that flee at his approach. It really is a shame that Watanuki hasn't taken some of that ability from him.

"And who is going to grant my wish NOW? You don't have any power to do that! And I'm not working for you, absolutely NOT, NO WAY!"

"Make dinner," Doumeki says. Watanuki nearly screams at that.

But he does.

*

Doumeki lets her pipe go out, and then he takes it down to the temple and has it blessed. Mokona comes along, quieter now that its master is gone.

(You will never step foot in my shop, she'd said once, smirking, and he had been surprised later to realize that she'd been wrong. He wasn't surprised now to find out she was telling the truth. It had been his shop when he stepped into it. He just hadn't known it yet.)

He ruffles Mokona's ears and shares a drink with it until Watanuki comes back from school, hissing like an irritated cat about the fact that Doumeki skipped today, and he'd made all this food, and just because he is Yuuko's replacement doesn't mean he has to be a drunken glutton who lies around all day.

"I know," Doumeki answers, taking the bento from him. Watanuki stomps off to dust in the storeroom; "And I hope you figure out what you're doing before you get a customer!" he calls over his shoulder.

Doumeki hopes so too. He still has an egg tucked into his sleeve.

(So that the final moment will not be final, she'd said once, but not to him, and he doesn't know why he knows this fact. Mokona says that all worlds are connected in dreams.)

*

The next day he goes to school, because if a customer needs him, they'll find him. Watanuki has told him the story about the trip to Ginza and he knows about the twins Watanuki and Yuuko had first seen in the supermarket. Yuuko was good at being in the right place at the right time. He supposes he'll find out whether that is deliberate or not.

He shoots his second customer (because Watanuki, though the spastic boy won't admit it, is still his first).

"I wish," she breathes in his ear, "I wish, I wish, Dimension Wizard--"

But he turns and his eyes widen, just a little, and he lifts the bow. She's interrupted the end of archery practice and he gets no small amount of applause for the way his arrow flies straight through her and hits the target perfectly. His eyes have had to adjust since he gave half of the one to Watanuki, and his scores have gone down as a result.

But this arrow flies straight and true.

"What did you just do?" Watanuki hisses, looking frightened for a moment. He has come to practice because Himawari has, and also because, not that he will ever say this, but he doesn't know how to be in the shop anymore without Doumeki there, and he does not want to go home. "That was a customer--"

"I did what I chose to do," Doumeki answers. He puts the bow away and goes into the locker room to towel off.

The thing that he had shot, girl-shaped but sharp-toothed, would not have found Yuuko at all, thus preventing her need to make that choice. He knows he is not as good as she was. That's all right. She wouldn't have left him the shop if that would be a problem.

(There are some wishes I do not grant, she said to Watanuki once. There are some wishes that cannot be granted by anyone. He's had that dream alongside Watanuki three times already. He knows that Watanuki is having a hard time dealing with losing her.)

He has made his choice. He will not give Watanuki to these things, even if it is their dearest wish. Watanuki is no longer under Yuuko's protection. But perhaps the word will spread that he is under Doumeki's.

The third customer wants an old vase from the storeroom. She gives him the hair ribbons she wore the day her fiance left and promised to come back. The hair ribbons go to a nekomusume that follows Watanuki back to the shop one day.

That night, Watanuki is quiet when Doumeki pours the sake. He accepts a cup without complaint. His eyes are half-lidded and he stares up at the moon.

Yuuko is gone, but the spirits still follow Watanuki. She promised to grant his wish, but they still chase him unless Doumeki is near.

And that is why Doumeki considers Watanuki his first customer, and the one he does not know how to help. All that he can do is try to keep him safe, but that is not the permanent solution Watanuki wants.

He stares up at the moon and drinks Yuuko's alcohol, and it's bitter on his tongue.

(A shop where wishes are granted, Yuuko says, her head resting on her hand, the smell of smoke sharp and new in his nose, and he pushes his glasses up and knows he is dreaming Watanuki's dreams again.)

*

Time does not pass within the shop. Maru and Moro cling to Watanuki's legs and do not age. Mokona helps Doumeki with customers and drinks half of the booze.

But outside, the world changes, little by little. The things that want Watanuki come by less and less. Word has gotten around. Sometime in the third year since Doumeki has gained custody of the shop, they stop altogether.

Watanuki doesn't appear to notice. He still spends evenings and weekends at the shop, whenever Doumeki is there, cleaning and cooking and complaining. Sometimes Doumeki tells him to stay overnight, and he never refuses, even though on those nights they often drink too much and Doumeki has to drag the boy to Yuuko's couch. He will always think of it as hers and much prefers a neglected chair he pulls out of storage.

And because Doumeki understands Yuuko's system, he knows he's running up a tab he doesn't know how to pay, even now. He's majoring in folklore and reading all of the books his grandfather left him, but he knows he could cover Watanuki in wards, if Watanuki would agree to it, which he won't, and say all the prayers that he knows, but if Watanuki left him and the shop, the creatures would come back.

(They are attracted to your blood, Yuuko purrs, and Doumeki has given Watanuki his blood, but this is deeper than red cells and white, platelets and plasma.)

Doumeki spends most of the summer of the third year in the storeroom, methodically examining every item. He forgets to eat lunch sometimes and Watanuki complains, bustling around in the apron Himawari gave him and muttering about portion sizes and the fact that Doumeki has dust on his eyebrows.

"You haven't cleaned in there lately," Doumeki answers, sipping at his cup. When Watanuki sets the plate in front of him, he says, "Thanks."

Watanuki pauses and stares.

"What?"

"Nothing," Watanuki answers irritably.

Doumeki finds nothing in the storeroom that answers his question. Though the catalogue he finishes in the end would be worth any price to the right buyer, it isn't something he would sell.

*

The fourth year is a year of dreams. They've increased in frequency as time has passed, but now Doumeki finds himself drifting into pasts, thoughts, memories, dreams without any warning. It reminds Watanuki of those few months when he wasn't sure he existed, and it makes him worry. He moves into the shop and lets his apartment go.

Doumeki wakes up in strange places. Or dreams them.

"You sleep too late," Watanuki mutters in his ear, irritably. "What are you going to do if you get a real job? There is an alarm clock, you know."

"Hn," Doumeki answers, blinking, and Watanuki shifts in the bed and gets up, nudging at Doumeki with a foot but no real annoyance.

"I'm making breakfast," he says, padding away in bare feet towards the kitchen.

Doumeki turns and looks up at the ceiling. He recognizes his grandfather's old apartment.

"Come on, then, I'm meeting Kohane-chan at ten!" Watanuki calls back into the bedroom. "You can't be that tired still."

He gets up but when he steps through the door, he realizes this is another dream, as Watanuki turns to look at him, lifting a hand on which a small golden band gleams.

*

He doesn't know what's real anymore, and he doesn't realize he's said it out loud until Yuuko answers him. She's there, suddenly, her nails sharp against his cheek, and she answers, "All of it."

She fades away, her red grin the last thing to disappear, like the demented cat from a book Doumeki read once when he was young.

*

"I knew she shouldn't have," Watanuki mutters to himself one day, picking up dishes, and Doumeki puts a hand on his arm. He looks up at Watanuki steadily.

"I'll figure it out," he says.

(I'll keep the shop, Watanuki says in his dreams, clutching at kimono, and wait for her to come back.)

"I'll figure it out," he repeats.

"Idiot," Watanuki mutters, but with no vitrol in it.

"Shizuka," Doumeki says.

"What?"

"My name."

"You always just call me 'oi!'" Watanuki snaps. "Why would I want to use your first name?"

Doumeki shrugs.

*

That night he dreams another dream he's never had before and Watanuki reaches out to take the egg from his hand. He looks surprised and frightened but determined, all at once.

Nothing will be born from that egg, Yuuko says, her voice an odd echo in the nonspace of the dreamworld. He cannot see her through his eyes or Watanuki's.

Watanuki cradles the egg to his chest. He doesn't appear to have heard her.

But, Yuuko says, and he can smell her smoke, something might be born from you.

Doumeki nods. He steps forward and reaches for the egg and takes Watanuki's hand instead.

"Shizuka," Watanuki says uncertainly. "This is a dream--"

"Real enough," Doumeki answers, pulling Watanuki close to his chest.

And then he wakes up.

The Dreamer's Action (Watanuki and Kohane gen)

2009-11-23T14:42:40Z

Title: The Dreamer's Action
Fandom: xxxHOLiC;
Length: 1125 words
Prompt: 31_days: 31 Oct 09 // little sparrows, mind your place!
Pairing: Clow/Yuuko; mostly Watanuki and Kohane gen
Other: Set in The Dreamer's Question universe; will not make a lot of sense otherwise.

Excerpt: The first time Shizuka dragged Kimihiro home, a black eye blooming on the shorter boy's face, Clow dressed the wound, clicking his tongue all the while, and later, Yuuko listened.

The first time Shizuka dragged Kimihiro home, a black eye blooming on the shorter boy's face, Clow dressed the wound, clicking his tongue all the while, and later, Yuuko listened.

"She's just a little girl," Kimihiro said, his eyes bright with concern. "She can see these things, but she can't exorcise them."

"And it was a spirit who blacked your eye?" his mother asked, resting her head in her hands, leaning forward with that stare of hers focused on her son. Her tones were ones of professional interest, rather than comcern, but that was Yuuko. She'd rather investigate than worry.

Watanuki looked away. "It was her mother," he admitted. "She thinks that I interfere somehow."

"Well," Yuuko answered, smiling slightly, "you are, aren't you?"

"She needs somebody," Kimihiro said. Yuuko reached out to stroke the hair out of his eyes, taking away a little of the ache as she did, tucking it into her own fingers. She had the day off tomorrow, anyway.

*

He brought her home two weeks later, a little girl with large dark eyes who stood in the front hall, looking like a kicked puppy. A well-kicked one, from the bandages wrapping too much of her skin.

Clow bustled around, setting her up in Sakura's old room and fussing over her like she was his own child. Kimihiro was apologetically determined that she should stay.

"It can't go on like this," he said. Clow patted him on the head and made a pie. The whole family had a tendency for bringing home strays, and there were usually a few cats and dogs stalking around the house until they were ready to go home again.

Yuuko hovered in the shadows, not even providing her usual commentary. Kimihiro looked askance at his mother's silence.

"Have I done something?" he asked Clow while they were doing dishes. Clow chuckled.

"Are you that attached to your mother's teasing?"

He wouldn't give Watanuki a better answer than that.

*

"Are you Kimihiro-kun's mother?" Kohane asked when the witch made her way to Sakura's old bedroom that night. When Yuuko nodded, the girl smiled. "You have the same kindness, underneath."

"You are a bright girl," Yuuko said. She sat down on the edge of the bed.

"And thank you for the spare clothes," Kohane continued. They'd found her some of Sakura's old pajamas to wear, though they were too large for her. She was much smaller for her age than Sakura had been.

"You're welcome," Yuuko answered. She looked down at the girl. "You have a wish, don't you?" she said.

It had been a long time since Yuuko had granted wishes. Even when it had been her business, long before she'd married (though she'd met Clow near the end), she hadn't done it often. Wishes were difficult. Maintaining the balance was something done cautiously. But she'd done it until she'd woken up one morning and realized that the treasure room was empty-- each person had received what they needed. Her tenure was done.

Even after all these years, she could recognize a wish, however.

"I do," Kohane answered, but hesitated. "I'm not sure what it is yet."

"Bright girl," Yuuko repeated, smiling. She got up and left.

*

"Do you think he's going to follow in your footsteps?" Clow asked her when she came in to bed. His gaze was somber and it followed Yuuko as she found her pajamas. He had a book in his hand, but he wasn't reading it. Finally, she sighed.

"Hitsuzen," she said, climbing into bed. She reached over and took his book and his glasses, and then shut off the light.

"Shopkeeping can be lonely," he said into the dark.

"No," she answered, curling up and cuddling into his arm. "People can be lonely. I don't think that will be a problem for Kimihiro."

"True," he answered fondly, kissing her forehead and then shifting so he could sleep.

*

Kohane visited her mother every Saturday, with Kimihiro and Shizuka in tow; rather, it was more that Kimihiro didn't want her to go alone, even if it meant that the two of them waited outside patiently the whole afternoon.

"They're like guards," Himawari said, giggling. Kimihiro blushed. He'd been doing that a lot, even though Himawari coming for dinner was quite an ordinary occurence by now.

"Do you really wait the whole time, Onii-chan?" Kohane asked, and then lifted her hands to her mouth, seeming embarrassed of the slip. Kimihiro just grinned.

"We do," he answered, "Imouto-chan."

Kohane's eyes were bright. "My mother is doing much better lately," she said. "Now that the press have stopped visiting so much..."

"Good," Himawari said cheerfully.

*

That night, Kohane found Yuuko in the living room, engrossed in a manga, though she set it down when Kohane came in.

"I think Kimihiro-kun has granted my wish," she said to the witch. "I think I can teach my mother to be happy."

"That's all right, then," Yuuko answered, "as long as it was granted."

"But I don't know how to pay him," Kohane said quietly.

"He's never had a little sister before," Yuuko said. "That's payment enough, I think."

"Thank you," she said, hugging Yuuko briefly before darting off to get ready for bed. Yuuko smiled reflectively, looking up at the ceiling, before picking up her book again.

"I blame Clow," she said to no one. "He's the softy."

*

When Kohane went home, Kimihiro moped about for a while, even though he was happy she could be with her mother again. Clow decided he needed cheering up.

"Like this?" Yuuko asked, though she was smiling. She was only protesting because she hadn't thought of it first. Clow winked.

"...What?" Kimihiro asked, glancing from one parent to another.

"You're going to be a big brother!" Clow said, grinning hugely, placing a hand on Kimihiro's shoulder and wrapping his arm around Yuuko possessively.

"WHAAAT?"

"Don't worry, you'll still be our baby," Clow continued. "Just not the youngest."

"Mmph?" Kimihiro said, bewildered, before he managed to extract himself from Clow's grasp and wander from the room.

"When do you want to tell him that the Mokona will be different?" Yuuko asked cheerfully, leaning her head back on Clow's shoulder.

"Not for a while," Clow answered. "He seemed so happy, after all!" Yuuko nodded in agreement.

"They could even call him Onii-chan!" she purred.

"My wife is brilliant," Clow answered.

"Good thing, too," Yuuko replied, grinning. "Kimihiro is just like me, you know."

"You're both very kind," he said, leaning down to kiss her. She caught his lip in her teeth and the conversation derailed swiftly after that.

(And yes, they told him eventually. Kohane, at least, thought the Mokona were very cute.)

Birth (Eriol gen)

2009-11-10T15:28:32Z

Title: Birth
Fandom: Cardcaptor Sakura
Length: 689 words
Prompt: fic-or-treat: Eriol - memories for chibidl
Pairing: Eriol gen; hints of Clow/Yuuko
Other: n/a

Excerpt: Eriol rocked back and forth, trying not to fall over. He rested unfamiliar hands on unfamiliar knees, inhaling as though his lungs were new. They were. But Clow hadn't expected it to be like this.

The first breath was the most painful one. Eriol rocked back and forth, trying not to fall over. He rested unfamiliar hands on unfamiliar knees, inhaling as though his lungs were new. They were. But he hadn't expected--

Clow hadn't expected it to be like this.

He wasn't very good at separating his memories, even later when the trauma of his birth had faded and he was Eriol, with his own life and guardians. So he could say to Ruby that he liked Tomoeda because it was where he'd died. (Clow would have appreciated the touch of melodrama.)

When his breath became regular and less painful, he looked over with blurred eyes at his counterpart, who was dealing with the same thing, but twice as disoriented. Fujitaka had no memories of his past life to guide him, beyond those deep memories that all humans have. He knew how to breathe, and walk; he knew his name. But he had no past, only this present, and it was no wonder he had sat down to catch his breath, looking confused.

Eriol moved shakily, each step a struggle against a mind used to longer strides and a taller stance. He picked the glasses off the table and handed Fujitaka his pair.

That was better, though the press of the frames on his ears felt strange. Clow had been used to glasses without arms, which hadn't been available when he was young. These probably wouldn't fall off if he got too excited, at least.

Now that Eriol could see, he sank back into his favorite chair, feeling impossibly small as he did so. His feet dangled. He inhaled and began to speak, surprising himself when he did. Of course his voice would be different; he had a different throat now.

"We can stay here a couple of days," he said. "Then I'll take you to her. She'll get you settled in."

He thought of Yuuko with a pang, and even a small touch of embarrassment. He could see the expression on her face already: amusement at his new appearance, which hid a sadness she'd never admit, followed by irritation. He really did ask too much of her. He always had.

He wouldn't stay with her. Nor would Fujitaka, but he wouldn't hurt her quite as badly. The other child was a stranger, but Eriol looked just like Clow had when he was young. The dream must end, he had said to her when he left, instead of I-love-you's or goodbyes, the words that he was good at. He could still feel the bitter taste of it in his mouth, the unfinished way he'd taken his leave and left her behind to wait.

And Eriol was still pursuing that dream to conclusion. Fujitaka was innocent. He was perhaps the boy that Clow could have been without magic. He'd be a good cook and he'd had a brilliant mind. He'd be fine with Yuuko until she could find him a place to stay, even though she would be snappish and moody. Fujitaka would just smile in puzzlement. He had nothing to feel guilty for.

"I think I'd like a nap," Fujitaka said. He wobbled to the door, but paused with his hand on the frame. "Are you all right?" he asked the boy overshadowed by high-backed armchair.

"I will be," he replied, smiling, and at least that felt familiar, and not new. "There is an empty bedroom two doors down. Feel free to sleep."

Fujitaka pushed his glasses up on his nose and nodded. "Thank you very much."

Eriol leaned back in the chair, gripping the armrests, and he dreamed. That was a habit he never could quite break. No more alcohol, no more Yuuko, but still he saw too much. He screwed his eyes shut against the visions, and before he drifted into normal sleep, he felt a small amount of relief.

At least, he thought, Clow was nearing the end. As long as it all stayed true to plan, he would achieve his goal.

He dreamed of bright green eyes and an infectious smile.

Everything would be all right.

Painter, Painted (Clow/Yuuko)

2009-11-10T15:25:49Z

Title: Painter, Painted
Fandom: xxxHOLiC
Length: 2496 words
Prompt: springkink 7 Nov 09: XXXholic, Clow/Yuuko: sensual usage of magic - magic inside of your fingertips
Pairing: Clow/Yuuko
Other: R for explicit sex. Set pre-series, some spoilers for about ch182 of xH.

Excerpt: "You are, in fact," she says dramatically, "the least likable person that I know. You're kind to everyone, and never angry, and you let everyone take advantage of you."

Clow lifts his eyebrows. "Really?" he says. "And here I thought friendliness was a pleasant trait. I shall stop it at once."

They are magicians, with power that spills from them, slips out, flows, escapes. You can dam a river, it could be said, but the water sloshes over its banks, dampening the ground nearby. The greatest magician in the world, and the greatest witch: between the two of them, they can cross space-time, clone a god, remake the pasts of worlds.

(And they could do those things individually, and have before, but it suits them to work magic together now, this century, so they do.)

They are careful, with power like that. Clow seals his into Cards and creatures and future plans. He, even more than she, reins himself back, hides his strength behind laughing eyes and a paternal appearance.

He's lived for seven hundred years, and would doubtlessly live for hundreds more. Sometimes she teases him about this, sliding over drunkenly to rest her head in his lap.

"You," Yuuko breathes, tracing his mouth with her fingertips, "were three hundred seventeen years old when I was born." She grins. "Old man."

Clow leans down and kisses her, his hands tangled in the hair at the back of her neck, lifting her gently to make the angle less awkward. She tastes of smoke and sake and the dinner he prepared before they'd retired here to her parlor; or at least, what he thinks of as a parlor, as he's spent too much time in England to not make the comparison. This is where she entertains her clients, but the shop is closed tonight, as much as it ever is, and he is the only one she shares her couch with, and her booze.

"What does that say about you, then?" he asks, breaking the kiss, eyes bright with his next quip. "That you like old men?"

"I don't think I ever said I liked you," Yuuko replies, her tone sharp. He seems unbothered by her vitrol. He has a calm personality, and he's spent too much time with her to listen to the words on the surface.

So he's unsurprised when she sits up again, and cups his face in her hands. She stares at him, her face too close, dark red eyes bright with drink and her mood.

"You are, in fact," she says dramatically, "the least likable person that I know. You're kind to everyone, and never angry, and you let everyone take advantage of you."

Clow lifts his eyebrows. "Really?" he says. "And here I thought friendliness was a pleasant trait. I shall stop it at once."

He shuts his eyes as her fingernails tighten against his skin a little and she sweeps them down his neck, slipping just a moment under his collar before she pulls away and picks up her cup.

"It's the advantage part that gets you into trouble," she answers, tucking herself into his lap without spilling her drink. Her legs are warm around his hips and the front part of her dress has, of necessity, puddled there between them, the bright red silk more of a contrast to her pale thighs than a covering. Most of her dresses are slit up the sides to her hips for ease of movement and seductive purposes.

He doesn't have a cup of his own, and she hasn't poured him one, so he waits as she downs hers and sets it down and then captures her mouth, taking her lip in his teeth. She doesn't quite shudder but she shifts, just a little bit, pressing closer, and opens her mouth enough that he can kiss her and taste the wine.

When that kiss breaks, a few languorous moments later, he smiles. "I might be taking advantage of you, instead of the other way around," he teases.

She throws her head back and laughs; her breasts bounce, and as they are nearly in Clow's face, he can hardly be blamed for appreciating them. But when his hands slide up her waist, she catches them, pressing them back down open-palmed against the bare skin of her legs, and she holds them there, leaning forward again to bite at his neck.

She licks his pulse and a small sound escapes him. She purrs against his skin in victory and lets his hands go so she can use hers to unfasten the buttons of his shirt.

But when he moves again, she pulls back and unfastens her hair, letting it slide down her back, an ebony river trailing off the edge of the couch. Before he can protest she's taken his hands again, pressed them together, and tied them with the hair ribbon and with magic. She lifts his arms enough to sidle underneath, letting his hands come to rest on the small of her back, and then she grins.

"No, I think I will certainly be taking advantage of you," she says.

"You didn't have to use magic," he answers, somewhat surprised by her choice to do so. He'd never mention it, because he is a polite man, but he would have no trouble breaking any of her spells. And she would never mention it, because it annoys her, but she knows. They might be very powerful people, but there's a gaping difference in their strengths, even still.

"I wanted to be sure you'd behave," she returns, and in her eyes there is the challenge, but he's certainly not going to complain. Yuuko is in his lap, after all. He's already won.

(Seducing her isn't nearly as easy as one might assume from the clothing that she wears. There is a woman, after all, underneath the silk and lace, ribbons and velvet corsets, who knows her own mind and is unafraid to share it. He had to lust after her mind before she would even consider the other kind of lust. Luckily, he's always thought she is incredibly brilliant. Especially right now.)

"I'll behave," he answers, to placate her, and she bites his earlobe.

"You're too nice," she growls, stripping his shirt from him, and he spends a moment mourning it because it was a nice shirt before she set its seams asunder. Granted, that is a quicker solution than letting him have his hands back and removing it in a conventional manner.

They usually don't use magic during sex; it's hard enough to control when one is sober (or as sober as Yuuko gets, anyway). It's easier to slip too much power in with one's enthusiasm. But once in a while, if they are careful, the thrill and the caution merge together and make something interesting.

Her teeth are on his nipple, then, and he bites his lip and wants to run his hands up her back and through her hair and across her chest. He loves her breasts, the soft sounds she makes when he kisses them, their weight in his hands.

And Clow Reed might be a pushover, but he considers himself and Yuuko Ichihara to be equals, in mind if not in power, and so he sees nothing wrong at all in turning the tables on her.

He pulls free of her bond and slides carefully sideways, pulling her with him, so that his back is no longer against the seat of the couch and he has more room to move. Her expression is clearly irritated, but he takes her collar and pulls her down for a kiss, unfastening the ties of her Mandarin-style dress and slipping it off of her shoulders.

"Cheater," she says, but then gasps when his hands trace across her skin. She used a dusting of her magic to make her ribbon knots hold, but he is painting it across her flesh, leaving a visual glitter because it amuses him. He traces a heart across her right collarbone and a crescent moon onto her left breast.

"Show-off," she says then, and he laughs, just a little.

"Ssh," he answers, kissing his fingertips and pressing them to her mouth, and she shakes her head at his sappy gesture, but she takes his hand and sucks on his fingers.

She can feel his desire pressing against her. He takes his hand back, kissing her slowly and softly, but his fingers slide down her stomach. Her dress has slipped down here to her waist, and he helps her slide it the rest of the way off, down her legs, without stopping his relentless trail of kisses. She might have ruined his shirt, but he will be paying for a torn dress for the rest of his existence, he knows, if he tries the same trick.

His fingers are warm as he slips them into her underwear, and her breath catches against his mouth as he rubs at her sensitive areas. He has a certain magic here, too, but a more mundane kind. He knows the way she likes to be touched, and he'd never forget something as important as that.

She scratches his back and leaves him a trail of lovebites across his shoulders, but after a while her hands pause, and clutch at his thighs, and she moans, "Clow...," and the demand in her voice makes his want for her even sharper.

So he pulls his hand from her warmth and lets her press him flat against the couch and liberate him from his pants and underwear. She licks him once, her expression almost mischievous as she glances up to see his reaction, a swift intake of breath and rolling of his eyes in pleasure.

And with that encouragement, she takes him in her mouth and sucks, just a little, but it is enough to make him clutch at the couch and sigh. She's just as good at driving him wild as he is at touching her. They have had a lot of practice over these past decades.

She slides her underwear off and then settles down onto him, sighing with satisfaction. He rests a hand on her hip, lifting the other to brush her hair from her face.

"You're beautiful," he says, sighing.

"You're a sap," she answers, and it's a familiar refrain, but he will never quit telling her that she's beautiful, a goddess with dark hair and bright red lips, and she will never stop smiling a little when he does.

She leans forward over him and takes the glasses from his nose and tosses them toward the coffee table, cushioning them as an afterthought before they strike the wood. And then she kisses him sloppily and begins to move, her hips rolling against his.

He reaches up and grabs her breasts, trailing magic again, shocking her with the headiness of his power. Her back arches and her movements become more insistent. But never one to be outdone, she leans forward again and traces her name across his chest, her fingers painting warmly and wetly across his skin.

(She does not own him, except for these moments. They have spent time apart and time together, and there have been decades in which they haven't touched at all, and others where sex is all that they do when they are together. They are friends, and they are lovers, and they are Clow and Yuuko-- but they belong to themselves, even if their destinies are tangled.

And until that moment, they will both believe this.)

He laughs and grabs her hand and takes the paint-spell from her to splash it across her breasts, so that one of her nipples is purple and the other, as he shifts the color of the paint, is the exact shade of her eyes.

She laughs too and gives him a green paint mustache, one with curling ends, before her focus returns to the sex and she kisses him, thrusts her tongue into his mouth. His hands slide down to her hips, both of their movements becoming more urgent.

She sighs and bites her lip and then shifts a little so that his thrusts are hitting her just right. She throws her head back when she orgasms, and screams, digging her nails into his shoulders.

He never lasts long after she comes. The look on her face always pushes him over the edge, but he is quieter about it than she is, his hands tightening on her, groaning just a little. Their movements slow, and then stop. Yuuko rolls off of him, after a moment, careful not to fall off the couch, but she turns back around and splays herself across him lazily, her breasts against his chest, their legs tangled, her right arm around his shoulder.

He draws a star on her cheek in bright gold, and then traces the color down the curve of her neck. They are silent for a while as their breathing slows to normal.

"I love you," he says. He has said it before, and he'll say it again, even though he knows the way she'll answer. Clow sees the future, after all. He knows, whether he wants to or not, and he knows that actions speak louder than words, not just sex but the things that she will do for the sake of their not-yet-made plan after he is gone.

But her answer is just a sigh, not a quip or complaint or demand for alcohol in the afterglow. She tucks her head into his shoulder and shuts her eyes. And since this is unusual, he asks.

"Yuuko?"

"Me too. Let me sleep," she mumbles.

He pets her hair and lets her fall asleep, even though her sprawl isn't exactly comfortable and his arm is asleep by the time her breathing is even and slow. He tucks a lock behind her ear and wonders how much she has seen, then, or been told by another fortuneteller, about what is up ahead for them. Even he isn't sure of the details yet. There are some years to go.

He looks up at her ceiling, his eyes unfocused without his glasses. He waves his free hand, cleaning the magic and the mess from them, and he holds her for another hour before he gets up and puts her to bed.

In the morning, she wakes to the smell of pancakes and a bottle of eki-kyabe on the bedstand. She downs the medication and throws on a robe before wandering into the kitchen in search of the smell.

And there is Clow at her stove, turning to see her as she comes in, and he's got a garish green paint mustache. She laughs as he grins.

"Couldn't get that one to come off," he says, an unabashed lie if she's ever heard one. So she smacks him in the back of the head and then settles down at the table with an air of anticipation.

"Good morning, darling," he says cheerfully, flipping pancakes onto a plate, and she curls her toes under the table and smiles, resting her head in her hands.

And the little things like this, they're magic too.

Dean in Wonderland (Dean/Triana)

2009-11-10T15:22:24Z

Title: Dean in Wonderland
Fandom: Venture Brothers
Length: 445 words
Prompt: fic-or-treat: Math & Candy (Venture Bros., preferably starring a constumed Dean and Hank and Triana) for oystermato
Pairing: Dean/Triana
Other: Set S3; therefore spoilers for S3.

Excerpt: "Why do I always have to be the one in the dress?" Dean whined.

"Why do I always have to be the one in the dress?" Dean whined.

"Because you have the figure for it, and I wanted to be the Mad Hatter," his father snapped back. "Now fix your wig, your real hair is showing."

Sulkily, Dean tucked it back under his headband and stared down at the blue dress. What if Triana saw him in this-- what would she say? He was Alice. She'd laugh at him forever.

"Are you ready yet?" Dr. Venture snapped toward the bathroom door, tapping his watch impatiently. "We're going to be late."

"I was adjusting my ears!" Sargeant Hatred answered in his whiny voice, emerging from the bathroom with his bunny ears still crooked.

"Oh, for God's sake," Venture muttered, reaching up to set him straight. "I should have been the White Rabbit."

"I'm late, I'm late!" Hatred said with an awful falsetto.

"On second thought, pity points!" the doctor continued, cheering up. "Come on Han-- Why am I not surprised?"

Batman was attired this year in a jean jacket over his costume. Hank scowled and played with one of his ear points.

"Let's just go," Venture said after a momentary stare-down that accomplished nothing.

They stepped out of the building and Dean was momentarily gratified not to see Triana anywhere, but there she was, standing by the statue and looking bored. She had a bowl of candy in her hands, but it seemed pretty untouched. Her t-shirt said, THIS IS MY COSTUME. Dean blushed down to his knees.

"Told you we didn't need makeup," Doc said, slapping his son on the back. "You've got the face of a little girl, Dean my boy."

Dean wondered if it were possible to sink into the ground. Only in comic books, probably.

"Nice costume," Triana said with a small smirk, and Dean opened his mouth to explain, but Hank was having one of his Batman moments and Hatred had darted after him, puffing with the effort, and then Dr. Venture started yelling and it all went to hell. By the time everything was sorted, she'd turned and gone back inside to avoid the chaos. Dean stared despairingly after her.

"What if I pay you to behave?" Venture wheedled at Hank.

"I don't want to dress up either!" Dean yelled. His father shot him a look and then rubbed at the bridge of his nose.

"I'll pay you too. Come on, let's just go."

He dragged his reluctant sons toward the plane. Dean sat in the back next to Hank and sulked. The Batman brooded in his blue jean jacket.

Dean hoped there would be some candy left when he got home.

Pride (Yuuko/Haruka/Clow)

2009-11-10T15:20:01Z

Title: Pride
Fandom: xxxHOLiC
Length: 1674 words
Prompt: springkink 8 Nov 09 - xxxholic, Yuuko/Haruka/Clow: oral sex in the dream world from which all worlds can be reached - Wine in the bottle does not quench thirst
Pairing: Yuuko/Haruka/Clow; mostly Clow/Yuuko
Other: R for sex; unbalanced threesome. Set pre-series, some attempts to be canon-compliant.

Excerpt: "The dream world connects to all worlds," he replied, stroking her hair to one side and pressing gentle kisses into her shoulder, "but you know that your world is particularly difficult to dream into. You do not have pleasant dreams, my love."

When the priest appeared in her dream, it was no surprise. Yuuko had began seeing him more frequently as the time of her own death approached. But his companion tonight shocked her.

"You brought him too?" she said, pointing at Clow.

Haruka just smiled gently. "He brought himself," the priest answered. His tones were serene and though Yuuko generally liked his calm attitude, she found herself dissolving in irritation.

It was strange how two men who seemed similar in temperament could provoke her to such different reactions. Haruka's silences led to her own. Sometimes they sat in her dreams and she leaned her head against his shoulder and said nothing at all.

But Clow, Clow, even when he was quiet, even when he was smiling, he gave her such fits of temper and sometimes passion. Her bosom heaved as she looked at him with one of her most annoyed glares.

Clow wasn't paying attention to her tone or her expression. He was staring at her with that awful look he had, full of longing and lust and love. She thought she'd broken him of that, at least in her presence, but there it was, back again.

He reached out reverently and brushed her cheek. She froze for a second and then turned her back to him, knowing he was still staring at her body outlined in the thin dress she was wearing.

"Nice of you to visit," she said, her tone sharp.

He never asked before he touched her and even dead he hadn't changed that habit. His arms were around her shoulders, and somehow, they were warm, and somehow still they were familiar even after all these years apart. She bit her lip and her spine stiffened.

"The dream world connects to all worlds," he replied, stroking her hair to one side and pressing gentle kisses into her shoulder, "but you know that your world is particularly difficult to dream into. You do not have pleasant dreams, my love."

There was no use disagreeing. She used to see the future in her dreams, but now she only saw the present, Syaoran and Sakura and the others struggling, Soel crying.

"And," Haruka spoke, his voice steady as he reached for her hand, and kissed it, "you had to let him come."

Yuuko had before been thrown by her pride. It was the only vice she would not freely admit to. She would not let him come because she would not admit she missed him.

Was this her admittance? Had she drank too much red wine and wished to dream of him?

She'd pay the penalty for that. Everyone paid for their wishes.

Clow reached down the low back of her dress and unfastened her bra. His hands crept around stealthily to cover her breasts, and he squeezed, just a little roughly, just like he used to do when he was alive.

And Haruka, every inch the gentleman Clow pretended to be (another burst of annoyance swiftly covered by need) leaned down to run his fingers down her ankles and lift her foot, pressing her back against Clow, and delicately she found herself in the magician's lap.

This was her shop (even if it was a dream), this was her porch, and these were the two men she'd loved when both of them were alive. But they hadn't been able to maintain the balance and the relationship had fallen over; she'd fallen onto the annoying one and he'd kept her and kissed her and prevented her from dying.

She'd never ever say it to the man whose teeth were gentle but persistent on her neck, but she didn't regret it, the whole mess, even the sacrifices made by all of them. It was selfish of her, which was another reason she didn't mention it. She leaned back into Clow's arms as he unzipped her dress.

Haruka's hands were gentle but persistent on her thighs as he removed her stockings and her garters. He kissed the underside of her knee, making her exhale suddenly.

It had been a while since she'd been with him. He'd left her and Clow to themselves, saying nothing like he always did, and married and had a son. She passed the temple some days, lifting a hand, smiling, and he always smiled back. She watched his son grow and marry, unsurprised, somehow by the old face Haruka's grandson wore, so much like his grandfather but more serious. And she'd gone to his funeral and waved goodbye.

When he'd stepped into her dreams for the first time, after he'd taken Watanuki under his wing, their relationship had been nearly platonic. Perhaps it was this he was thinking of when he met Clow's eyes above her head. Clow reached out to touch Haruka's cheek. He leaned forward, and then the two men kissed once, gently, above her head. Clow's fingers slipped down her stomach, further, and it had been decades, but he still had the knack. His movements were slow and unhurried, persistent across her most sensitive skin, and he and Haruka shared another long kiss before some sort of conclusion seemed to be made between them.

"Let me taste you," Clow breathed in her ear. Haruka's hands cascaded across her breasts as though he were sculpting her. She pretended to consider while Clow's fingers worked in her. She never gave anything to him easily, even the things she herself wanted.

"If you must," she said finally, hissing with desire as his thumb brushed over her clit before he pulled his hand away.

"You're still warm," he said, when she turned around so that her hair was spilling across Haruka's chest instead. Clow's eyes twinkled with mischief and she opened her mouth to break the mood, to throw away this momentary thing (the diversion of a memory, of a way things used to be, to keep until the day she too could join them).

Haruka chuckled and said, "Did you expect anything different from her? She is very good at dreaming."

Perhaps it was from his grandfather that Shizuka had inherited his tendency to avoid using names. Given that names had power, Yuuko had always approved. Between Haruka, Clow, and Yuuko, moreover, his meaning was always clear, and his voice always held just a trace of affection in his pronouns.

His words were enough distraction that Yuuko did not protest when Clow exhaled warmly on her inner thigh and said, "Of course not. It was a compliment." He kissed her sweetly, high on each leg, before lowering his mouth to her.

He was warm too, confident, his tongue hot, and Yuuko squirmed, biting her lip against verbal acknowledgment of his skills. From behind, Haruka's hands played over her, mapping her collarbones, tracing across her breasts, his kisses on her neck soft but not without bite. He tasted like cigarettes and the sake they had drank the night before Clow went away (and they'd done this then, too, in silence, drunkenly, though she'd come back to herself with her hand down Clow's pants and Haruka pressed against her back, and swore she'd never give him the satisfaction, because he was leaving).

That memory provoked a moan, shuddering from her lips. Yuuko did her best to live with no regrets, and she did not regret then (or now), but sometimes she wondered how different their lives (and deaths) could have been. But there was hitsuzen, and it was all. There was nothing to regret, because things happened as they needed to happen.

She slid into those moments when desire was all, when the body ruled, when they were not three, but one, and she kilted her hips forward, breathing heavily. She reached back to clutch at Haruka, the best that she could, given a certain inability to focus and the angle, but just her touch provoked a sigh of satisfaction.

Clow was patient and persistent. He pulled back a little to suck on her clit, and then slipped two fingers into her. He curled them up, seeking her G-spot, provoking another guttural sigh from her when he found it. They both had big hands, a long reach, and she appreciated that. They were the only men who could ever make her feel small (physically, that is, she would not let anyone make her feel small otherwise).

"There," she managed in encouragement, and he acknowledged that with, "Mm," just a buzz of his lips on her, and with Haruka breathing hard in her ear, she slipped over the edge into orgasm, letting it roll through her in waves of pleasure. Clow didn't pull back until her spasms ceased. His own breath ragged, he stared at her with something resembling awe on his face.

He'd told her once, when the two of them were alone and drunk, that she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, especially in her afterglow-- her skin glistening with sweat, her lips half-parted. She was a goddess, he'd said, his voice too loud in his inebriation.

She'd told him, tartly, that he was only a mess, and he'd just smiled. He was (both smiling and a mess) now, hair falling loose from his ponytail, his lips slick with her.

His eyes were dark and his clothing was hopelessly rumpled, but what she hadn't told him then, even drunk, was that she liked him that way, when he seemed the most like a normal man and the least like the cocky magician she knew him to be. She didn't say it now, either. This was her dream and her desires, but there were secrets kept between them, all the same.

When she could focus again, she leaned forward to kiss him, almost possessively, wrapping her arms around his neck and then burying her head in his shoulder, pushing away a wish. Then she turned to kiss Haruka too, and run her hands through his short hair.

Together, the three of them dreamed.

Or Treat (Syaoran/Sakura)

2009-11-10T15:13:14Z

Title: Or Treat
Fandom: Cardcaptor Sakura
Length: 601 words
Prompt: fic-or-treat: Yamazaki telling the story of the first Halloween for beansidhe_baby.
Pairing: Syaoran/Sakura
Other: Set mid-canon. Sort of wanders away from the prompt for Syaoran/Sakura fluff.

Excerpt: Syaoran Li was not quite sure why he'd agreed to go to this party. His bandages itched and Hiiragizawa kept grinning at him oddly.

Syaoran Li was not quite sure why he'd agreed to go to this party. His bandages itched and Hiiragizawa kept grinning at him oddly. Well, if he were honest with himself, the resason he'd came was because Sakura had asked him, her smile vibrant, and he'd found himself quite incapable of saying no.

And then, of course, he had to find a costume, because this was a Halloween party, and Daidouji had vetoed his idea of showing up in his traditional Chinese uniform. So he'd gone out and bought some bandages and some red makeup, and found a shirt he didn't wear much anymore: instant zombie.

But an itchy one. Ad there was Hiiragizawa's snicker and Daidouji's admonishment that he should have worn something Sakura could match (did she ever stop thinking about clothes, or driving him insane?).

Someone had gotten the bright idea to tell ghost stories, and he could feel Sakura trembling in the seat beside him. She'd faced dangerous Clow Cards without flinching, but the thought of something paranormal invariably made her shriek. Trying not to make it obvious, he leaned a little closer to her. She shot him a grateful look.

"I'm going to tell the story of the first Halloween," Yamazaki began cheerfully, pushing his halo back up so it would sit straight. "A long, long time ago..."

Syaoran would admit that he didn't know the story, though from the way Chiharu was glaring, perhaps the story wasn't true at all. She looked as though she wanted to bash him with her witch's wand.

"And that's when--" Yamazaki said, his voice dropping low, "it attacked!"

And that was in fact when the lights flickered off (later, after he'd found out Hiiragizawa's true identity, Syaoran wondered if he had anything to do with this). Sakura screamed, though so did a couple of the other girls. When the lights came back up, however, Syaoran was the only one with a lap full of frightened girl. He blushed furiously and said, "Um--"

Sakura opened her eyes, looked around, and loosened her deathgrip on his shirt. "Eheh," she laughed nervously, slipping back into her own seat. Then she frowned up at Syaoran with concern. "Oh, your bandages are all messed up, I'm sorry."

She adjusted them with nimble fingers while Syaoran contemplated the possibility of fainting due to all the blood rushing to his head. How would he explain that?

Luckily, he didn't have to. The party broke up soon after that. The flickering lights were due to an approaching storm, and everyone wanted to get home before it broke.

"Nice costume," Hiiragizawa said, smarmily in Syaoran's opinion, as he gave his goodbyes. Eriol's cat tail swished in a self-satisfied manner.

"Thanks," Syaoran muttered.

"Sorry," Sakura whispered again, pausing at the door to fiddle with the hem of her shirt. What real desert princess would bare her navel, Syaoran wanted to know, but Daidouji would be Daidouji (or today she would be some sort of Victorian belle, but still a costumemaker).

"It's okay," Syaoran said, looking away, unable to meet her eyes. It was then, with tension sharp as a knife between them, that someone brushed his shoulder and he jumped forward, nearly knocking Sakura over.

"Why are you so nervous?" Daidouji asked, giggling, and Syaoran only paused to make sure Sakura was okay before he escaped into the cooling night.

"Do you really think that Yamazaki-kun was right about Halloween?" Sakura asked Tomoyo, watching Syaoran flee.

"There are all kinds of tricks and treats," Tomoyo said with a knowng smile, and she explained no more than that.

Flowering (Tarzan/Jane)

2009-11-10T15:08:56Z

Title: Flowering
Fandom: Disney's Tarzan
Length: 401 words
Prompt: fic-or-treat: Tarzan, Tarzan/Jane, love blooming for brokengem
Pairing: Tarzan/Jane established (post-movie)
Other: n/a

Excerpt: That was never as easy as Jane would like, but eventually she found him down by a favored watering hole with Turk and Tantor. When she explained what she wanted, he looked thoughtful for a moment, but then grabbed her hand and vaulted off into a trees with her.

Jane knew apes, but she felt a woeful ignorance when it came to plants.

"They're beautiful," she said to her father, "but I dare not pick anything, because it could be poison."

"Can't help you there, Jane my dear," he answered, not looking up from his careful sketching. She didn't think to ask who he was sketching for. Even if they lived in Africa for the rest of their lives, her father was still a researcher, through and through. He'd learn even without a scientific society to send notes back to.

"Why don't you ask your young man?" he said, tone somewhat muffled as he bit his tone in concetration.

"That's a wonderful idea, Father," she said, kissing him on the top of his bald head, and she went to find Tarzan.

*

That was never as easy as Jane would like, but eventually she found him down by a favored watering hole with Turk and Tantor. When she explained what she wanted, he looked thoughtful for a moment, but then grabbed her hand and vaulted off into a trees with her.

"You know," Turk called after him, "you could have at least finished the game!"

Jane giggled when Tarzan translated for her. "What were you playing?" she askd.

"Poker," Tarzan answered cheerfully.

"But you don't have any cards..."

"We were using rocks," he answered, but before she could inquire further (who had even taught him poker?), he set her down carefully in the midst of the jungle's bounty.

Tarzan was a patient man, and a good teacher. He pulled back leaves, uprooted vines, and talked constantly, rattling off the gorilla names for various plants and their properties. Jane did her best to take it all in.

"Take someone with you at first when you look," he cautioned. "They won't let you make mistakes."

She leaned back against him, her mind spinning with names, leaves, and roots. Sometimes she just couldn't believe she'd stayed. Every day was something new, a new transition. The world of academia was miles away from this world. But it was worth it.

"I'll make some sort of salad," she said to Tarzan, and then of course had to explain salad. It wasn't a bad meal, either, once he'd picked out one dangerously mistaken plant.

She saved another one, a decorative one, and it bloomed all summer, pink and vibrant. The next year, she kept a garden.

Twins (Maru and Moro gen)

2009-11-10T15:06:33Z

Title: Twins
Fandom: xxxHOLiC
Length: 357 words
Prompt: Fic-or-treat: Maru and Moro get separated somehow for claire_chan
Pairing: Yuuko, Watanuki, Maru & Moro gen
Other: More of an AU sort of thing than the prompt. Spoilers for ch182-ish.

Excerpt: Yuuko had cuddled her, called her "my little Marudashi," and it had been just the two of them for a while. Maru slept curled up across Yuuko's feet, and she dreamed of the shop and kept it strong.

Maru had been alone once. Yuuko had cuddled her, called her "my little Marudashi," and it had been just the two of them for a while. Maru slept curled up across Yuuko's feet, and she dreamed of the shop and kept it strong.

She was the shop, she loved the shop. She knew every rafter and every blade of grass in the little pocket dimension where they lived. And she was happy, a child's simple happiness, there with the mistress and the sleeping Mokona (mustn't ever touch, the mistress said).

She waited at the door when Yuuko went out, shouting cheerfully when Yuuko returned. Yuuko patted her head and asked if she'd missed anything when she was out in the world, but she never did. The customers always came when they were supposed to.

Maru didn't realize she was lonely when Yuuko was gone, not until Moro was born. She watched with fascination as Yuuko spoke the spells and her sister slipped into being.

"Morodashi," Yuuko said, sounding tired but satisfied. Moro blinked. Maru reached out and took Moro's hand. Moro squeezed back.

"And now you have each other," Yuuko said.

It wasn't a conversation that either girl remembered. Time passed and it seemed like the two of them had been together forever. "My Marudashi and Morodashi," Yuuko said, introducing them with a giggle.

Watanuki was special, a client who stayed. He taught them things and helped the mistress when he could. He wanted to take them to the festival. No one had asked them to go anywhere before. And so they loved him. They kept the shop for him and for Yuuko, hand in hand, even when they didn't have hands to hold.

They always had each other, even when Yuuko went away, and that had hurt more than anything, more than the thought of the shop disappearing (and death), more than the time that Watanuki had nearly bled away his life in Yuuko's bed.

But time passed, or did not pass in the shop, and they had a new master, and Maru had Moro and Moro had Maru.

And so they kept the shop, together.

Anniversaries (Tomoyo/Meiling)

2009-11-10T15:01:52Z

Title: Anniversaries
Fandom: Cardcaptor Sakura
Length: 419 words
Prompt: fic or treat: Cardcaptor Sakura, Tomoyo/Meiling, five o'clock with plans for the weekend for dreximgirl
Pairing: Tomoyo/Meiling established
Other: n/a

Excerpt: Five o'clock on a Friday night... it certainly wouldn't be the first time Tomoyo had canceled plans because of a project or other work delay.

Meiling was trying to choose her earrings when the phone rang. It was Tomoyo's specific ringtone, which normally would prompt a smile, but not tonight. Five o'clock on a Friday night... it certainly wouldn't be the first time Tomoyo had canceled plans because of a project or other work delay. She worked as hard as her mother had when she'd been CEO of Daidouji Toys.

Tonight was supposed to be special, furthermore. It was their second anniversary. Something about that was more important than the first had been. The first had been a celebration, still, of newness, of the queen bed and two toothbrushes in the cabinet. The second anniversary, Meiling thought, was a turning point. The new bed was broken in; the toothbrushes had been used and replaced. They were together. They were committed.

"Hello?" Meiling said into the phone, setting down her jewelry and feeling her heart sink as soon as soon as she heard Tomoyo's voice.

"Meiling-chan... I'm so sorry."

Meiling sighed. "I know," she said gently.

"Umehito's plane was delayed, so we had to push back our schedule..."

Meiling wasn't resentful. If she had been, this relationship wouldn't have lasted the first year. Tomoyo's unwavering dedication-- to both her company and her frinds-- was something Meiling admired about her girlfriend.

"I have to get through these reports for tomorrow's meeting. I should be home around seven."

Though Meiling was used to the interruptions of their life, she wasn't happy about them. Tomoyo sometimes overexerted herself. She'd been late every day this week.

"Did you send Sayaka-san home?" Meiling asked. Tomoyo's equally-dedicated and overworked assistant had recently had a baby, and Tomoyo was making her keep a more reasonable schedule.

"She left at three," Tomoyo answered in a satisified tone of voice. "Her mother is coming to see the baby this weekend."

"Then I'll see you in a little while," Meiling said, hanging up before Tomoyo could protest. With Sayaka gone, it was a certainty that Tomoyo wouldn't have eaten since lunch, if she'd even paused for that. Meiling would pick up a pizza and spend the evening with her girlfriend in her ofice. It wasn't a party really, or a date-- she'd be quiet so Tomoyo could read, but the important thing was, she would be there.

She picked up her earrings and held them up to her lobes, peering into the mirror and letting a smile spread across her face.

Two years gone, and she could hardly wait for the third.

Slow Boil (Watanuki gen)

2009-10-30T14:26:28Z

Title: Slow Boil
Fandom: xxxHOLiC
Length: 411 words
Prompt: 31_days: 30 Oct 09 // I weep for my mother as I watch the sea
Pairing: Watanuki and Doumeki gen; mentions of Yuuko
Other: spoilers for ch182.

Excerpt: It was mid-July before Watanuki pulled the kiddy pool out of storage, partly because he knew he'd have to go to the trouble of blowing it up himself.

It was mid-July before Watanuki pulled the kiddy pool out of storage, partly because he knew he'd have to go to the trouble of blowing it up himself. When he could breathe again, and he'd drawn the water, he slipped into it with a satisfied sigh, trying to resist the thought that he probably looked ridiculous. She'd done it, so he could do it.

"What are you doing?"

Doumeki's deadpan tone startled him. The girls hadn't told Watanuki that the archer had arrived, probably because they were putting on their bathing suits. Watanuki scowled and tried not to feel so... exposed. The floral umbrella didn't help matters much. He crossed his arms over his chest.

"Trying to stay cool."

Doumeki stared for another long moment. "You look ridiculous."

"I'm fine!" he snapped back. "If Yuuko-san could--"

Doumeki nodded once, curtly, cutting him off. Watanuki paused. Something about this argument seemed familiar.

He knew very well that he wasn't Yuuko, and that he honestly had less style in his whole body than she'd had in one finger. Most people couldn't pull off her ridiculous antics and somehow maintain her fearsome reputation as well. He knew he wasn't as good-- he couldn't even leave the shop. But he was trying his best.

Water splashed Watanuki's cheek. He blinked in surprise as more splattered coldly down on him. Doumeki was leaning on the shower handpump. He pumped a couple more times, his expression unchanging.

"No," he said after another minute's consideration, "still ridiculous."

"I probably look like a drowned rat now!" Watanuki growled, rising fussily and shedding water. The girls ran out of the shop and twined themselves around his legs.

"You can have it to yourselves," he said kindly, and they shouted gleefully and splashed around as he climbed out.

"You don't," Doumeki began, and then stopped.

"What?"

"Nothing," he answered, stepping uncomfortably close to Watanuki, making him feel short and pale and irritable. Doumeki brushed a drop of water from his cheek, and Watanuki leapt backwards like he'd been bitten. This meant, of course, that he tripped over the pool and upended it over himself. He sputtered angrily while Maru and Moro tittered with laughter.

"Himawari is coming later," Doumeki said, unconcerned. "Get dressed."

Watanuki muttered under his breath, flinging the pool off of his head.

"I don't what?" he asked, eyes piercing.

"Have to be her," Doumeki answered.

Watanuki got up and went into the shop without another word.

Upon a Time (Yuuko and Watanuki gen)

2009-10-30T14:24:59Z

Title: Upon a Time
Fandom: xxxHOLiC
Length: 453 words
Prompt: 31_days: 29 Oct 09 // a crow buries its secret
Pairing: Yuuko and Watanuki gen
Other: n/a

Excerpt: "Once upon a time," Yuuko said, exhaling smoke that slid lazily across the air, half-forming patterns that broke as soon as Watanuki looked at them. "Once upon a time, there was a crow."

"Once upon a time," Yuuko said, exhaling smoke that slid lazily across the air, half-forming patterns that broke as soon as Watanuki looked at them. "Once upon a time, there was a crow."

"You're telling fairytales now?" Watanuki asked, sweeping busily. But with Yuuko, the fairytales were often true, and it really was a silly thing to question.

"There are a lot of magnificent stories that begin "once upon a time," Watanuki-kun," she admonished. "Everything that happens, happened once upon a time, even if that time was long ago in another universe."

"Are you saying that all of those old stories are true?" he replied, voice incredulous, and Yuuko rubbed the bridge of her nose. Some days, she seemed to be thinking, some days you betray your willful ignorance, Watanuki. Watanuki scowled. He hated that look.

"Truth is never as simple as you think," she answered. "Now. Once upon a time, there was a crow who found a beautiful strip of shiny paper. He loved it at once, taking it home to his nest and putting it in a place of honor."

"I fail to see," Watanuki interrupted, "what this has to do with me not making your dinner tonight."

"It would help if you'd let me finish," his employer answered. "Sssh, before I die of hunger." She sighed dramatically.

"Yeah, yeah," Watanuki answered sourly. He never asked for time off and he was feeling rather put-upon that this was the answer to his question.

"After a while, the crow had to leave the nest to find food. I won't give you the details of that," she drawled on. "But he didn't want to leave his treasure alone, so he found a good place to bury it."

"Do crows dig?" Watanuki objected.

Yuuko rolled her eyes and continued. "So the crow buried his treasure and went to find food. But when he came back, a squirrel had been busy at work burying nuts. No matter how much the crow digged, he couldn't find his shiny thing. And now he regretted burying it in the first place."

She leaned back with an air of triumph. Watanuki blinked.

"I still don't see--" he ventured.

"Don't hide your good things, Watanuki-kun!" she declared. "Use them, or lose them."

"I don't think that me not feeding you once is going to lead to my loss of cooking skills." He paused, and because this was Yuuko, he then continued, "Is it?"

She buried her face in her arms. "Once upon a time," she warned.

"If I make something now, you can warm it for dinner," he said with a long-suffering sigh. She perked up, her grin devilish.

"Caw caw," Watanuki muttered.

Woven (Kohane gen)

2009-10-30T14:23:17Z

Title: Woven
Fandom: xxxHOLiC
Length: 302 words
Prompt: 31_days: 28 Oct 09 // you have outgrown your first kimono
Pairing: Kohane gen; Yuuko and Watanuki
Other: Spoilers for ch184.

Excerpt: Yuuko wasn't like most people. She knew Kohane wasn't lying, but more importantly, she let her be a person, and make her own decisions.

Kohane knew, on some level, that Yuuko couldn't give presents, but when the witch disappeared before Kohane could return her kimono, she kept it. She hadn't known Yuuko as well as Kimihiro had, of course, but the wishgranter had been very kind to her. The kimono was only part of that. Yuuko had given her the opportunity to grant her own wish, and that was worth any amount of power in return.

Yuuko wasn't like most people. She knew Kohane wasn't lying, but more importantly, she let her be a person, and make her own decisions. She did it for Kimihiro too, using his wish to give him the opportunity for change. Yuuko was very wise, Kohane thought, and she would remember her fondly. She would keep her kimono, folded and safe. Yuuko didn't give gifts, so perhaps she could return it, if Yuuko came back like Kimihiro seemed to think she would.

Kohane wasn't so sure that Kimihiro would be a good shopkeeper. He cared too much, for Kohane and Yuuko and anyone who was hurting, and though Yuuko cared, she knew her business, and could make the difficult decisions. So Kohane worried. She didn't want Kimihiro to hurt.

She packed Yuuko's kimono into storage when the season changed, and Obaa-chan said nothing about it. She told Kimihiro's future, though, when Kohane asked (in exchange for a meal), and sent Kohane with the information that Kimihiro needed to know.

The world was re-forming around a new center, Kimihiro instead of Yuuko, and Kohane hoped her friend was strong enough. But he was granting his own wish, in waiting for Yuuko, so she knew he would be okay. Yuuko had guided him well, after all.

So when she visited, Kohane tried to smile.

Spent (Clow/Yuuko)

2009-10-30T14:21:26Z

Title: Spent
Fandom: xxxHOLiC
Length: 371 words
Prompt: 31_days: 27 Oct 09 // I've squandered all these years
Pairing: Clow/Yuuko
Other: spoilers for ch182 as always.

Excerpt: So she treasured her vices and would not apologize for indulging them-- what was the use of time if you didn't make the most of it?

Time was never a particular concern of Yuuko, as aging was optional to someone as powerful as she. She knew she would die someday, because all things that lived did, but the thought didn't concern her. Better, she thought, to focus on the present, to act then (towards the future, yes, but that was never set in stone). So she treasured her vices and would not apologize for indulging them-- what was the use of time if you didn't make the most of it?

Though most of the magical community was as long-lived, there weren't many who approved of the Dimension Witch and her methods. Feared her, yes, sometimes. They said that she could read the future in the twining trails of smoke from her pipe, could hide the secrets of the worlds in her stoned ruby eyes, could drink her weight in alcohol (which wasn't technically magical, but pretty amazing all the same).

Clow's philosophy wasn't quite the same. He seemed to treasure each moment as if he expected no next breath. That didn't mean he couldn't be convinced to have fun; really, he had the most fun of anyone, or that was the impression he left.

But when he met her, he said, "I've squandered all these years without you," and she whacked him with her fan and said, "I wasn't made to entertain you." Nonetheless, she did, and he entertained her, and after a century or so they'd quite forgotten what it was like to spend all their time alone (in Yuuko's case) or in the company of created beings (in his).

"I've wasted all these years with you," she said, the day he left. He leaned forward and kissed her forehead, answering, "It's impossible to waste time."

"At least I managed to teach you something," she mumbled, shutting her eyes to better remember his lips soft against her skin.

"Yuuko-san?" Watanuki asked uncertainly, and she opened her eyes again, shaking ash out of her pipe and reaching for her cup.

"Nothing, Watanuki-kun, nothing," she answered, following with a plaintive request for snacks, and the memory passed, and so did the years.

And until her time ended for good, she lived. There was no wasted time.

Coming Home (Clef/Presea)

2009-10-30T14:16:33Z

Title: Coming Home
Fandom: Magic Knight Rayearth
Length: 556 words
Prompt: 31_days: 26 Oct 09 // shining in my soup bowl
Character/Pairing: Clef and Presea; slight Presea/Clef
Other: n/a

Excerpt: Presea knows there must have been a time before Clef lived in the palace, a time before he put on those heavy robes and took up the staff of office, but she finds it hard to picture.

Presea knows there must have been a time before Clef lived in the palace, a time before he put on those heavy robes and took up the staff of office, but she finds it hard to picture. He's mentioned it only once, in passing-- a cottage he kept near the edge of the Forest of Silence (he was always so fond of silence). She pictured it, at that time, a smile on her lips, as a little place, homey, relaxing, with a great big study like hers.

Now he has no separation between work and home. She stops in to see him sometimes when her work brings her to the palace, but his office juts right up to his quarters, which are small and spare in her opinion, and undecorated, no nicer than what she would imagine for the butler. But if that's what his rooms look like, it's what he's chosen for himself, but Emeraude would never deny him something better if he wanted it. He'd practically raised her, after all.

She doesn't know what to say about it so one day she brings him something. She can't draw, but she can do metalwork, so she sculpts something pretty but not girly, from a metal like steel, setting blue stones into it. It has sharp edges but is a long, slender shape overall, and it reminds her of Clef a little when she is done, or perhaps her idea of him: strong, weighted, intricate.

"I thought you could put it on your wall," she tells Clef, smiling, her face oddly warm. He looks bemused for a second, holding it, and then he smiles back, looking brighter than he had in a long time.

"Of course," he says, gesturing for her to follow as he leaves his office (of course she's found him there). She walks along behind him to his apartment. He climbs up onto the couch and holds up the decoration onto the wall, turning back for her opinion.

It looks wonderful there, just as she'd imagined. She pulls the hammer from her belt, and a couple of nails, and in short order they install it.

"Thank you," Clef says, stepping back to look at it, then smiling at her again. Presea puts her hammer away, somehow fumbling a little under his gaze.

"You're welcome," she says, and then hesitates before continuing, "it seemed really bare in here."

His smile drops a little. "I suppose I don't have a lot of time for decorating."

"It helps to have someplace relaxing to come home to," she answers softly.

"You're right," he says after a considering moment. "Thank you, Pharle. Presea."

He only calls her-- only calls anyone, really-- by their name on very rare occasions, and the word sinks to the bottom of her stomach and rests there warmly.

"You're welcome," she answers, bowing. They spend a few moments talking before Clef is called away yet again to another errand. She watches him go, smiling faintly.

The next time she returns to the palace, there is a little glass jar on the endtable next to his couch, with smooth blue stones in the bottom.

He sees her gaze, and says, "It matched," smiling just a little before returning to the business before them. But Presea grinned all the way back home.

Spring (Presea gen)

2009-10-30T14:14:58Z

Title: Spring
Fandom: Magic Knight Rayearth
Length: 727 words
Prompt: 31_days: 25 Oct 09 // Fields of new grasses
Pairing: Clef and Presea gen
Other: n/a

Excerpt: "Who woke me?" she demanded sleepily. "I'll string you up-- oh, it's you, Guru." Seeming a little embarrassed by her automatic reaction, she sat up quickly. "What do you need?"

He found her lying under a tree, dozing in the shade, and though he'd come to talk business, Clef found himself unwilling to interrupt. Finally, he coughed politely. Presea's eyes flew open.

"Who woke me?" she demanded sleepily. "I'll string you up-- oh, it's you, Guru." Seeming a little embarrassed by her automatic reaction, she sat up quickly. "What do you need?"

Instead of answering right away, the mage stepped through the spring grass, robes whispering as they brushed the blades, and he placed a hand on the tree she was leaning against. He smiled a little.

"Spring," he said. "Everything is happy to be growing."

"You can talk to trees?" Presea asked, wide-eyed, though in retrospect, it wasn't particularly surprising. He talked to animals all the time, after all. If there was something the Supreme Yil couldn't do, she hadn't seen it yet.

"This one is loud," he answered, still smiling a little, as if he had some private joke. Presea smiled back. She brushed her hand along the trunk as she rose to her feet and adjusted her apron. The forge was loud too, in its own way. It strained in the afternoon heat, wanting to be used, but it was too hot to work right now. That is, unless you were Clef, who worked all the time in a set of robes she suspected counted for half of his weight. He was a man whose heart and soul belonged to Cephiro. He probably saw it, she thought, as service, not as work.

"What can I help you with today, Guru?" she asked, as he turned away from the tree to look up at her. It must have been something important for him to come in person. She was seeing less and less of him these days. She wasn't sure what was going on in the palace, and it really wasn't her place to ask, but Clef was busy, and he looked tired.

He adjusted his circlet before answering, attempting but failing to push his bangs out of his eyes. "There is something I need you to keep for me, Pharle," he answered seriously. "The time we have feared has come to pass. When the Magic Knights arrive, there is something you must send with them besides weaponry."

Presea gasped, her hands flying up. The leather of her gloves on her face was familiar, but not comforting. A cold chill settled in her stomach, but Clef just looked at her steadily. He looked determined, not broken, and that fact helped calm her.

"Yes, of course," she answered. He nodded and gestured for her to follow him back up toward her house. He waited for her to get the door (though he could have opened it himself, he was polite), and over tea he explained to her what little he knew and could tell.

"So we must help them," he said, sighing. He paced back and forth in her living room, finally pausing and taking one of her hands in his. "Thank you," he said. The moment was interrupted by the appearance of a white creature in the room.

"Puu!" he said cheerfully. Clef dropped her hands to gesture at the beast.

"Mokona," he explained, his tone a little bemused. Presea had to admit her own confusion-- this animal, the one that was now bouncing across her living furniture-- was supposed to help the legendary Knights?

"Don't get into my study," she warned Mokona sternly, and then smiled back at Clef. "It's not a problem, Guru."

She walked with him to the edge of the forest, leaving Mokona to investigate (though hopefully not destroy) her house. The wind was rising, clearing away the early afternoon heat, and it played through her hair. They'd had an unusually warm spring, she thought, as she bid Clef goodbye, though in the circumstances, that wasn't surprising.

It wasn't until she'd gone back to work, her hands automatically shaping the metal, adjusting a seam, that she thought to wonder why Clef hadn't kept Mokona himself to give to the Knights. After all, he'd meet them, wouldn't he?

The thought made her bite her lip; she finished the repair and began to clear up.

She hoped all of them would see another spring.

Truly (Yuuko gen)

2009-10-30T14:12:54Z

Title: Truly
Fandom: xxxHOLiC
Length: 239 words
Prompt: 31_days: 24 Oct 09 // Ask tearfully, truly
Pairing: Yuuko gen
Other: n/a

Excerpt: But when someone asked Yuuko for the truth of their futures, they didn't often like the answers she gave. Few people valued a good fortuneteller because of this.

Fortunetelling was a contract between teller and told. Though Yuuko was pretty good at reading the threads of hitsuzen, at seeing the choices to be made and paths to walk, it was a rare future she told nowadays. It was a contract most people only thought they wanted to make.

It wasn't that seeing was a burden; she'd never been as entangled in pasts and futures as Clow ahd been. She could tell tomorrow from yesterday, even when drunk, and that was better than he'd lived, some days.

But when someone asked Yuuko for the truth of their futures, they didn't often like the answers she gave. Few people valued a good fortuneteller because of this. "Tell me the truth," they said, eyes shining, but the truth took its price. Nothing was free, after all. Clow confused his tenses, hid his heavy burden with a smile. One all paid for the good times with the bad, but it was easier to walk without the foreknowledge of both.

Yuuko could grant a wish of future change, but hitsuzen was hitsuzen. Watanuki was always with Doumeki, whether by his own will or not. She was limited to opening closed circles, increasing potential butterflies. And no one, not even Clow when he still lived, could read her future now.

She'd rather find out on her own, in any case. The uncertainty was a gift.

Pilgrimage (Syaoran gen)

2009-10-30T14:10:08Z

Title: Pilgrimage
Fandom: Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicle
Length: 373 words
Prompt: 31_days: 23 Oct 09 // As if tired from their pilgrimage
Pairing: Syaoran-tachi; Syaoran mostly; mention of Syaoran/Sakura
Other: spoilers for end of series.

Excerpt: Nevertheless, the solemn-faced, polite, young man who asked the questions never seemed to get the answers he was looking for, no matter what direction he was sent in the world, to mages or philosophers or scientists.

They were seasoned travelers; any innkeeper could tell you that. They wasted no time in negotiations, knew exactly what they wanted in a room, and disappeared into said rooms with an air of determined weariness, wearing their few possessions.

And the next morning, there were questions. Perhaps they thought that the little white creature would help ease the air (and in many inns, Mokona did charm the wives and children of the proprietors), because they always had it near. Nevertheless, the solemn-faced, polite, young man who asked the questions never seemed to get the answers he was looking for, no matter what direction he was sent in the world, to mages or philosophers or scientists.

Those who kept the places of rest all communicated, some across worlds, because world-traveling was certainly unusual, but not unheard of (and anyone who had met Seishirou or the twins thought it best to send on a warning). And just as those innkeepers said, "Like the Dimension Witch's children? Or like Clow's guardians?" to the oft-asked question, soon they began to expect the travelers. They were distinctive, after all-- the dark swordsman, the bright mage, the steady archaeologist (for this was the profession Syaoran claimed to follow), and the excitable pet. Even so, they never had the answers that the travelers were looking for.

So after a few days, sometimes a week or a month, the small group paid their bill and shook dust or sand or dampness from their shoes, and walked on. They showed no frustration, not anymore; just a stolid determination.

"Like a pilgrimage," a little girl said to them once, stroking Mokona and then teasing it with one of the large fronds that decorated the courtyard. Syaoran's eyes widened in consideration. Finally, he nodded.

"But what are you going to see at the end?" she asked.

"Myself," Syaoran answered after a long moment. "My family, and my wife."

"Then I wish you traveler's luck," she said, giggling sweetly before she was called away to help with the chores. Syaoran bowed to her receding form. They didn't travel with Sakura's luck anymore, but even in the darkest worlds, thought of her sustained him.

And so they journeyed, on and on.

Truly Free (Yuuko gen)

2009-10-30T14:08:29Z

Title: Truly Free
Fandom: xxxHOLiC
Length: 350 words
Prompt: 31_days: 22 Oct 09 // Vanish quickly, for you are finally free
Pairing: Yuuko and Watanuki gen
Other: spoilers for ch182.

Excerpt: There was more that she wanted to teach him, from the smallest trick to the secrets of traveling universes, even if he could only grasp the theory.

It wasn't that she didn't care for Watanuki, or that she wanted to leave him alone. There was more that she wanted to teach him, from the smallest trick to the secrets of traveling universes, even if he could only grasp the theory. He had no magic of his own, after all, being born apart, a placeholder that she struggled to make real, because every life was precious.

But time was limited, even in timeless places, and many of Yuuko's secrets died with her. She wasn't surprised at this-- it had taken her decades of learning and experience to discover them, and that would be the way that Watanuki had to learn them. Knowledge had a price, after all.

Everything had a price, and one of the prices she paid for her extension of life was this graceless death. She had no room for embarrassment, just a few moments to explain what she could before the darkness wrapped around and swallowed and set her free.

She wanted to die, to end. It was something Watanuki no longer understood. He didn't want to disappear anymore, and he could not stand to lose the one who'd saved him from this fate.

She watched him sob with dimming eyes, wondering if she was being freed or simply binding him in her place. But there was nothing to do for it now. Her time of interference was truly over.

She'd said it once to him, hadn't she? As he slept, adjusting to a new gaze. No one was ever truly alone. We belong to each other.

So maybe she wasn't truly free in death, but she hoped, for his sake and her own, that Watanuki would learn to let her go. Memory was something quite different from mourning, after all. She'd let him keep the memories; they helped define who he was, after all.

Memory, the shop, Maru and Moro and Larg, and the new promise that he wouldn't die alone. Everything had its price, after all, and he'd earned more than his wish from her.

Not A Date I Swear (Dean/Triana)

2009-10-30T14:01:32Z

Title: Not A Date I Swear
Fandom: Venture Brothers
Length: 1297 words
Prompt: 31_days: 21 Oct 09 // In the midst of this world/ we stroll along the roof of hell/ gawking at flowers; bright autumn, Dean/Triana for oystermato
Pairing: Dean/Triana; mostly gen
Other: AU in that this should be S4 Halloween due to events mentioned, but it has a S3 feel.

Excerpt: Triana sighed, setting down the book and turning off her music. "I remember, Dad. Don't you have a spirit to decant or something?"

There was an extremely polite knock at the front door around two o'clock, and Triana ignored it mostly because she hadn't heard it. Her father was doing something creepy in his study, and she'd found it necessary to put in headphones and blare showtunes in her ears to drown out the screams. After a minutes, she barely registered her father stride down the hall, and then he came back and knocked at her door.

"Pumpkin?" he said, peering around the doorframe at his daughter, who was curled up on her bed, trying to ignore the occult in her house with both the aforementioned headphones and a dull book she had to read for class. Dr. Orpheus had clearly been interrupted mid-ritual. His hair was slick, his collar was high, and there was something wispy and dangerous curling around his shiny shoes.

"That Dean Venture is here to see you," he said, his voice for a moment disapproving. "You remember what I told you about the Venture boys, don't you, dear?"

Triana sighed, setting down the book and turning off her music. "I remember, Dad. Don't you have a spirit to decant or something?"

The necromancer looked down at the mist around his ankles, which was getting thicker and also rising slowly in a somewhat ominous manner. "You're right!" he declared dramatically. "It is a matter of GRAVE IMPORTANCE!"

Triana rolled her eyes at the pun and went to see what Dean wanted.

*

Dean was wearing his speedsuit because he'd come to associate it with formalwear. He only wore it when his father forced him to, which was generally when they had some dinner or award show to go to. A few misguided attempts through the wash had further deformed its already unfortunate shape, making it looser in the behind and tighter in the chest. He was also wearing something like half a bottle of his father's cologne, because all of that cloning hadn't done anything toward improving his skills with the ladies.

It smelled like grape soda, actually, and Triana wrinkled her nose and stared at the boy.

"T-triana!" Dean stuttered, seeming surprised to see her. "Isn't it a lovely day?"

His voice wavered up an octave and back down. If she were truly honest with herself, Triana would admit it was cute, this ridiculous crush he had on her. Most of the boys at school didn't look twice at her. Of the ones who visited, they were all scared off by her father and his threats to sic zombies on them if they didn't get his "princess" home by ten p.m. It didn't help when he had both photographic evidence of said zombies, and baby pictures of her to show off.

"Yeah, I guess," she admitted. She hadn't been outside yet. She had been out partying late last night and hadn't bothered to get out of bed until around noon.

"I was wondering," he said, and gulped, "if you would want to take a walk with me? Maybe?"

"Why do you smell like grape soda?" she asked.

"I, um--" Dean paused. "Grape soda?"

There was another blood-curdling howl from the direction of the necromancer's study.

"I'll go get some shoes," she said, sighing, because the sun would probably be slightly less painful than doing homework and listening to shouting in stereo (as Dr. Orpheus himself picked up the chorus in alarm).

*

They ran into Hank when they cut through the hangar to tell Brock where they were going. Luckily, it was October, so he was wearing his Batman costume and uninterested in interruptions.

She wondered if he really did wear it every day. Dean mumbled something about having to "peel it off in November." Which was gross, and something she was glad not to think about when they ran into Brock, who was fiddling with something under his cool old car again.

"Why do you smell like grape soda, Dean?" the bodyguard asked, wheeling himself out from underneath and looking from Dean to Triana and back. Triana wasn't sure she liked his appraisal.

"Brock!" Dean whined. "I don't. I borrowed--" He glanced at Triana. "Never mind." He waggled his eyebrows, apparently trying to communicate something to the blond man. Triana looked away because it was that or laugh.

Brock shrugged. "Take Hank w--"

Triana imagined the eyebrow-wrangling that went into that communique, and giggled a little. Brock sighed.

"He's driving me crazy. Like usual. You haven't seen your father around, have you?"

"No. We're going to go now, Brock, okay? For a walk around the compound," Dean said quickly.

"You kids have fun," Brock answered, wheeling himself back under the car.

Triana opened her mouth to protest-- it wasn't like this was a date, no matter what Dean seemed to be also assuming-- but Dean grabbed her hand and dragged her away before Hank could toss another Batarang in their direction. They were just Frisbees with bat symbols inked on in Sharpie, but they were still getting annoying.

*

The problem with leaving the compound, however, was that then there was no distractions, and suddenly nothing to talk about. Dean had dropped her hand as soon as he realized he was holding it. Probably thought she had cooties, Triana thought pessimistically.

But when he managed to relax, finally, and when she managed to ignore the grape soda odor, she realized he was charming, in a dorky sort of way. He certainly wasn't her first choice boy... or really her second... or third or-- well, in any case, he wasn't last. And that counted for something.

He told her a story about last year's Halloween, and how Hank had somehow managed to almost get himself married to someone called Under-bite or something like that (which Triana thought was weird, because hadn't he dressed like Batman last year too?). And then there were other tales of weird place he'd visited with his family, and when all else failed, they looked at clouds, though Triana was always half worried to see something dangerous in them. Ominous clouds seemed to collect around her father. She was never quite sure if he brought them intentionally or if they came with the job. In any case, they weren't as awful as the portal in her closet, but they weren't really pleasant, either.

When he walked her back to her door, he leaned forward for a kiss and she shook his hand instead, a move that seemed to confuse him at first, but he then accepted enthusiastically, pumping her hand in both of his.

"I, um, I had a good time," he said, blushing.

"It wasn't so bad," Triana admitted, managing a small smile. "Thanks."

She ended up shutting the door in his face, because Dean didn't have the best reflexes, but she figured he wouldn't mind.

He probably minded when she shot back out, screaming at the thing her father had raised this time, but he'd forgive her. After all, he didn't like zombies either. Even when they were seasonally appropriate.

***************

"Doc, why are you drinking your cologne? Did you take too many diet pills?"

Brock grabbed the bottle from Dr. Venture's hands, but the shorter man scowled at him and took it back.

"No, Brock, I got tired of Hank stealing all of the soda out of the fridge. I figured if I put it in this bottle, he wouldn't bother with it."

Venture held up the bottle under his bodyguard's nose. Brock sniffled it and then chuckled a little.

"What?" Venture whined.

"Nothing," Brock answered. "Nothing weird at all."

"You're just jealous that I have grape soda and you don't!" Venture yelled at his bodyguard's retreating back. Brock just shook his head, and smiled a little.

Real Enough to Matter(Yuuko gen)

2009-10-20T15:59:22Z

Title: Real Enough to Matter
Fandom: xxxHOLiC
Length: 505 words
Prompt: 31_days: 20 Oct 09 // and within every dewdrop a world of struggle
Pairing: Yuuko and Watanuki gen
Other: n/a

Excerpt: She takes his watch but there are other things she could have taken, and she tells him this. His soul, the course of his future-- because his name is false, he is safe enough, but even that name was given in love, and so it means enough to matter.

She has had apprentices before Watanuki. Rarely does a year pass before a young person stumbles into her shop, empty but wanting. But rarely does a year pass again before they are dead of their own hubris. She doesn't give warnings for her own health (beyond redemption, there), but for theirs.

She takes his watch but there are other things she could have taken, and she tells him this. His soul, the course of his future-- because his name is false, he is safe enough, but even that name was given in love, and so it means enough to matter.

She does not tell him that yet. It is not time yet, when he is scarcely anchored to his tenuous existence. He would break apart and disappear in shards of glass, and she will not have that. He may be a boy born of choice and not of the fighting, blood, viscera known as birthright. But he is a child, and since he cannot be his mother's son, he will be Yuuko's employee. It is as close as she can get.

(She could not just mother him for free; everything between them must be paid for, or it will not exist when it is needed most, when she is gone.

Except-- except-- feelings, but hers she cloaks in whim and irritation. He does not have Clow's eyes and so she can just bear it. But bonding with him too close would be a mistake.

It is a mistake she makes. She is only human, after all.)

She and Clow tried to account for all of them, even the ones not naturally born, because they knew what it was like to have children who were not human. But Watanuki was the hardest. He is the child without sin, born of his other self's sin, and he has to cling to existence with every part of himself in order to make it to the end.

But even before he comes to the shop, Watanuki has been fighting for his life for a long time. He listens, even if he whines. Winter turns over to spring and then again to winter.

He lives.

Yuuko smiles and requests food out of season. She presses him into becoming someone greater than he is, and when he makes mistakes she scolds him and bandages his wounds (for a price, mind you, but she throws the scolding and advice in for free because she's a softy really).

And when he asks her finally, if he is real, she tells him yes, he is real. He has Doumeki's pure blood and Himawari's carefully offered heart and a thousand pearls of wisdom from herself. He has a soul that someone could take, had she not taught him to keep his name and birthday safe from strangers.

And he chooses to believe her. The world itself is very small, she thinks, and smiles. But that's all the world he needs.

Managing Accounts (Yuuko and Kakei gen)

2009-10-20T15:53:01Z

Title: Managing Accounts
Fandom: xxxHOLiC/Legal Drug
Length: 618 words
Prompt: 31_days: 19 Oct 09 // hide-and-seek among the tea flowers; comment_fic: xxxHolic/Legal Drug, Yuuko and Kakei (with implied Doumeki/Watanuki and Rikuo/Kazehaya), bonding and reminiscing over the shared love of making their errand boys do humiliating things
Pairing: Yuuko and Kakei; slight Doumeki/Watanuki and Rikuo/Kazahaya implied
Other: n/a

Excerpt: Yuuko watched her creation fondly, lifting her cup of tea to her lips for a moment, and then resting it on the table next to her. It was still half-full, but Kakei refilled it anyway, his smile never fading.

Mokona was playing hide-and-seek among the flowers with a scowling boy who could be convinced to smile, and a taller one who couldn't. Yuuko watched her creation fondly, lifting her cup of tea to her lips for a moment, and then resting it on the table next to her. It was still half-full, but Kakei refilled it anyway, his smile never fading. He was glancing at his employees once in a while, but his grin could be said to be more possessive than fond.

"Do you remember those headphones?" Yuuko said after a moment of peaceful silence (there was sound in the garden, Mokona giggling and Kazahaya's consternation and the half-argument he was conducting with Rikuo, but the shopkeepers were both ignoring it). "The ones with the cute little earpieces?"

"Oh yes," Kakei answered with a chuckle, taking a seat again and picking up his own cup. "I tried to borrow them from you, if I recall."

"You did," Yuuko replied, pointing at him lazily, "but I told you I needed them for something. My errand boy, actually. You should have seen the look on his face. Of course, there was no other way to communicate with him, what a shame, he simply had to wear them."

Kakei lifted his eyebrows, impressed. "And you sent him out with his archer like that?"

"I did," Yuuko answered, grinning. She watched Mokona dodge out of Kazahaya's grasp, and then as Kazahaya ran clumsily into Rikuo and complained at him for getting in the way.

"I'll forgive you then," Kakei answered cheerily.

"I thought you might," Yuuko said with a particularly evil grin. "It really was a shame that he lost them. I had to charge for them, then." Mokona slipped between Rikuo's legs; he reached down and picked it up, but it scrambled onto his head and then jumped back down into the flowers.

"Squirmy thing," Kakei remarked, and then, "I'm sending them to an all-boys' school next week to get something for me."

Yuuko nudged her companion. "Subtlety is not your watchword, Kakei."

"Not always," the man answered, sipping at his tea. "But when appropriate."

A shadow loomed over the pair. Saiga never changed, Yuuko always thought when she saw him. Always wearing sunglasses, always slightly rumpled. He rested his hand on Kakei's shoulder possessively (and Yuuko, instead of rolling her eyes, shifted subtly to show more thigh, because it wasn't that she was interested at all, but his possessiveness was annoying).

"Are you done playing?" Saiga asked, ignoring Yuuko. Kakei considered, and then sighed.

"I suppose so. Boys!" he called out, lifting his voice and getting up. Rikuo and Kazahaya looked up. Yuuko rose elegantly to her feet.

"Mokona!" she called out. Mokona bounced past the feet of its would-be captors and leapt into her arms. Kazahaya's mouth fell open in disbelief; Rikuo's frown deepened subtly.

"Why were we trying to catch that thing if it belonged to HER?" he said, pointing at Yuuko.

"Ssh, Kazahaya," Kakei said, waving, "or one might think you disliked women." He winked at Yuuko. Saiga set a hand on Kakei's shoulder.

"Wouldn't it have been polite to be able to return it to her when she arrived?" he continued.

"But it came right to her!" Kazahaya protested. "Did I really just spend an hour--"

"Mokona had fun!" Mokona remarked cheerfully, scrambling up onto Yuuko's shoulder.

"Nice to meet you boys," Yuuko said, petting Mokona absently. "It's very rare to see two children who are... so close."

Kazahaya frowned, but she swept around gracefully and offered her hand to Kakei. "See me out?"

"Of course," he answered, shooting his employees a look over his shoulder.

"I cannot believe--" Kazahaya began.

"Shut up," Rikuo muttered, thumping his coworker on the head, and it was to the dulcet sounds of another disagreement that Yuuko and Kakei parted ways again.

In Your Philosophy (Clow/Yuuko)

2009-10-20T15:38:10Z

Title: In Your Philosophy
Fandom: xxxHOLiC
Length: 953 words
Prompt: 31_days: 18 Oct 09 // I wrote on a wall, "I've gone ahead"; comment_fic: xxxHOLiC, Clow/Yuuko, there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy.
Pairing: Clow/Yuuko
Other: PG for sexual references. My apologies to Shakespeare.

Excerpt: The wine was making her eloquent that night, and she remembered being quite pleased by her turns of phrase until he looked at her. His gaze was only a little sad, and she might not have noticed had she not known him as long as she had.

There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy.

He'd said it to her once, and she'd just laughed and laughed.

"How could there be more?" she asked, waving her glass. "I dream of everything. I've seen the warashi that walk the day and the spirits who walk the night, and all of those who glide through dawns and sunsets and the times between."

The wine was making her eloquent that night, and she remembered being quite pleased by her turns of phrase until he looked at her. His gaze was only a little sad, and she might not have noticed had she not known him as long as she had.

"No, my dear," he said, and his tone was cheerful, "not yet, you haven't."

He reached out and brushed her cheek and she pulled away, like she always did, but instead of letting her go, he leaned forward and left her a kiss there, gentle but damp, upon her cheekbone. They weren't drunk enough yet to be fumbling toward her bed, not drunk enough that Yuuko could tell herself it was just one of those mistakes you made with judgment lowered (one of those mistakes she made often if she would be honest).

"You say these things, and then you never explain them," she said grumpily, when he had leaned back over to his side of the couch. The moment had passed and neither of them might acknowledge it again that night, or they might return to it later. Yuuko didn't like to categorize this thing they had. It was only much later that she realized it was a part of her more subtle precognition; if she didn't admit there was something, it wouldn't be so hard to lose.

"I must have something up on you," he answered playfully, "because otherwise you would own all of me, even more than you do."

"I don't want to own you," she retorted, but she let him fill her glass and settled back against the couch, letting her bare feet brush against his as he leaned against the other armrest.

"That's a shame," he said, laughing a little with the tone he wore for his most brilliant ideas, "because I was thinking of having a certificate made. I know it irritates you when the other witches flirt with me. I could carry the page around, you see, and absolve myself of their attentions more politely that way."

"You are an idiot," she answered. Jesting or not, she wanted no certificate, no gifts (beyond sex and sake, which were more like needs than presents anyway), no binding. The centuries stretched backwards, the centuries stretched forwards, and Yuuko stretched on the couch and pressed her toes into his side. The position was awkward until she shifted on her back, and she suspected that half of the reason for his sudden grin was his ability to see up her skirt that way, but she pinched him with her toes and enjoyed his grimace.

In retaliation, he sat up and pulled her into his lap, arms snaking around her waist, and they still weren't drunk enough to blame it on the wine (not that Clow ever did, he wasn't half as stupid as Yuuko claimed, and recognized love when he was in it).

"You know what they say about Shakespeare, anyway," she said, fingernails scraping across his cheek and pulling his glasses off.

"A bit high-strung and dramatic, but he'll grow into his own?" Clow suggested. "I have to admit, the first time I saw Hamlet performed I wasn't particularly impressed."

Blinded by her spectacles theft, he stared at her with unfocused eyes until she kissed him and he shut them. Her tongue in his mouth was almost angry, but he was used to that. His touches were gentle and hers were irritated. He didn't blame her for that, which somehow made her angrier.

He hadn't told her yet that he was planning to die. But a conversation like that reverberated down one's timeline, sometimes, and she would be so furious about that one that he felt as though he deserved her rage now, in the little packets that she delivered it.

"No," she answered scornfully, because she hadn't been in England then, and didn't care, "that an infinite number of monkeys on an infinite number of typewriters could, in time, reproduce all of his work. So I can't say it's that impressive."

Clow furrowed his brow. "Those must be very bright monkeys," he said, a stupid thing calculated to raise her ire, and she reacted as he expected, by growling at him and then biting his neck. He hid the satisfied sound he wanted to make.

"I believe you're missing the point of my statement, dearest," he said breathily, but then they went on to miss the point for quite a lot longer. She woke in the morning with her head on his stomach (that sort of odd position always happened when she shared her bed with someone) and a vague memory of some sort of ridiculous philosophical discussion, but most of the memory was overwhelmed by her hangover. It shouldn't have been as bad as it was, she thought grimly, as she hadn't been that drunk when they'd finally managed to sleep.

But she did remember it, years later, when Watanuki began, "There are more things, Yuuko-san," his tone sarcastic, and she stopped him by throwing Mokona at him. As she expected, Larg proved a wonderful distraction.

But she didn't get entirely drunk that night, either, even though she woke alone, sheets tangled.

"Idiot," she mumbled into the dark, and then clutched Mokona close and slid back into sleep.