Disclaimer: I own nothing, I regret nothing.
Author's Notes: Written at 1:30am. So tired. Must...finish...seminar paper... Also, since this is from her point of view, and yes, because I believe German was her first language and not English (canon is inside my head?), she?s allowed to use prepositions at the end of sentences. Even though it killed me a little bit inside each time. But she insisted. *rereads it* Oh my God, I am so frigging incapable of writing anything interesting. I aim for the mundane. XD
Beating
Thmb-Thmb-Thmb-Thmb-Thmb-Th-
I sit up straighter, easing into the position so he doesn?t notice I?m shifting.
His mouth is quirked up in a half-grin at the antics of a Holo-cast comedian, and the light from the set flickers in his eyes. He?s got the remote casually in his hand, having won the long and often complicated battle over who wielded it each evening. I don?t worry about my complicity though; I often buy the wrong kind of beer ?on accident.?
Honestly, he looks normal.
Normal college-age dude, stretched out on the sofa during a Tuesday evening comedy sketch, remote at the ready, beer on the coffee table, light Tee forming a comfortable barrier for a friend to lean against.
Not so normal child yet Death God incarnate, responsible for the death of millions, afraid to let himself love and too naturally emotional to stop himself, violently assumed identity forming a tense barrier for enemies to be diverted by.
I didn?t believe him. Not that he was a Gundam Pilot- that I knew already, and I will never thank him enough for using his suit to save my life during the last battle. Not that he was a killer- I can understand his reasons for fighting and accept his unspoken but obvious repentance. I didn?t believe he thought himself a God. A God of Death, no less.
I?d been afraid to mention it, after he'd told me. As if bringing it up again would trigger some sort of strange reaction and he?d morph into a werewolf and run out the door after biting me, and I?d die of rabies, alone in the local hospital. But I knew that wouldn?t happen. I just didn?t? I don?t know.
But I do know he?s not a God of Death.
Why?
Because, face it, what kind of God would have a completely normal pulse for his age/height/weight/gender. I lean as slowly and silently as I can back toward his chest, and get as close as I can to hear that almost comically muffled but wholly unthreatening sound.
Thmb-Thmb-Thmb-Th-
Uh. Why yes, I can explain what I?m doing! I just don?t think now is the right time to mention you that you aren?t the soulless demon you think you are. So I laugh instead, burying my face in the couch and snorffling the way I do, and you let the uneasiness roll off your shoulders as you settle back into the couch the way you do.
Hm. Maybe next Tuesday I?ll buy him a stethoscope and let him distract himself with it while I hide the remote.
Beating (G, realism, fluffish)
Moderator: Lauren
-
sitboy007
- Fanfic Connoisseur|NewType
- Posts: 136
- Joined: Tue Oct 26, 2004 3:51 pm
- Location: Atl, GA, USA
- Contact:
aw, that's really cute! I liked it.
Mucho luv,
S.B.007
We aren't laughing at you, we are laughing near you.
(Robin Williams, Dead Poets Society)
Are you a mexican or a mexican't?
(Johnny Depp, Once Upon A Time in Mexico)
Darling, nothing is certain until you're dead, and even then I'm sure that God negotiates.
(Anjelica Housten, Ever After)
S.B.007
We aren't laughing at you, we are laughing near you.
(Robin Williams, Dead Poets Society)
Are you a mexican or a mexican't?
(Johnny Depp, Once Upon A Time in Mexico)
Darling, nothing is certain until you're dead, and even then I'm sure that God negotiates.
(Anjelica Housten, Ever After)
