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cookies, because that's all i'm good for right now :x
know that i'm still working on things, but for right now i'm just giving out a heads up to say YES! still here. and, um, cookies. because you guys are ridiculously patient.
first, the blues fic, which is part of a much bigger one that is piecing itself together in my brain and involves all the boys and girls, but is proving to be one of those "epics" that will drive me to the brink of crazy. but at least i got something out of it!
***
“So what’d you come up here to think about?” he finally asked. “And if I’m interrupting the thought process, just tell me to shut up and I will.”
“No, don’t worry about that,” she assured, shaking her head. “It’s… not anything, really.” She rubbed at the sweat on her cup. “I just… well, I guess I was thinking about how great it was. The show, I mean.” She turned to him and smiled. “You really did great, you know?”
‘Oh God, Bubbles, where are you going with this?’ she thought.
He laughed and responded, “You’re one to talk. It was great singing with you. Come on, who wouldn’t want to sing with you, when you’ve got a voice as pretty as yours?”
Her mouth parted slightly and she gave him an incredulous look. “You never stop, do you?”
“I don’t,” he admitted, and rested his arm on the back of the bench. “But you give me such great material to work with.”
That expression of his had no trace of maliciousness or ill intent in it, and she just smiled in defeat and looked back at the sky for a second before setting her cup down and scooting a little closer. His arm instinctively curved around her shoulders. “Thank you,” she said quietly as she leant her head against his shoulder.
His breathing was deep, and after a few minutes he whispered, “So what’s with the sudden burst of affection these days?”
More thinking. Bubbles took a long time to respond. “It’s… I dunno.” She sat up and turned a little, resting her leg up on the bench between them. His arm retreated to the back of the bench.
Silence filled the space between them. For some reason she couldn’t stop staring at his shoes.
“… Go on,” he urged kindly. “I mean, if you want to.”
She thanked him with a smile and brief eye contact, then dropped her eyes to his shoes again. “So… it’s just, I was thinking you’re a really sweet guy, and you’ve become a really wonderful friend.”
He nodded, contemplating. “That ‘friend’ stuff is like knives in my heart, but that’s about par for the course.”
She laughed nervously and said, “No, no, this is so… argh!” She buried her face in her hands and sighed through them. “What am I trying to say? I seriously have no idea, this is coming out so wrong.”
“I kid, I kid, you know I kid,” she heard him say apologetically, and next thing she knew she felt his hand brushing against her cheek. “Hey, if you’ve got something you want to say, say it; if you don’t, no worries.”
She lowered her hands and met his gaze, which was charming and warm and completely undemanding of anything. He began to lower his hand from her cheek but she lifted hers and grasped his before it could move.
Everything stilled all at once, save for the clamoring people below them and the vibrations from the bass.
Finally he smiled and said softly, “You’re really messing with me here, you know?”
***
and a cookie of my first (published (sort of)) red fic! rejoice!
***
“Is this good enough for you?”
Blossom froze. “What?”
He slowly turned his head towards her, finally making eye contact. There was a nasty gash somewhere on his head; it was bleeding through his cap and down his face and she had to struggle with herself not to wipe the blood away.
“We were fighting about us,” he clarified. “Before the monster struck, anyway, we were fighting about us. And your standards, and mine. So me bleeding, maybe dying—am I worthy of Her Majesty’s Presence yet?” he snarled bitterly.
A silence stretched between them, marred only by his breathing.
“How can you possibly be thinking about this,” she finally whispered, seeing nothing but blood, blood, blood. His blood. “This doesn’t matter right now, what matters is—”
“If it didn’t matter then I wouldn’t be fucking bleeding in the first place,” he spat, then pulled back, hissing in pain. Blossom’s hands flew to his face, slipping against the blood on his skin.
“Listen to me—”
“Answer me. Does taking down a monster and bleeding for you make me a Goddamn hero?”
Her expression hardened, and she snapped, “Trying to impress a girl makes you no hero, it makes you selfish.”
“Oh, so me risking my life for you makes me an egotistical bastard?” he scoffed, face pointed at the ground. “You don’t want villains in your life, that makes sense, but you don’t want heroes, either.”
“Right now you aren’t any sort of hero, right now you’re just an idiot who’s too weak to move and won’t go to the hospital because you want some sort of concession from me that isn’t going to happen because you need to see a doctor!”
He gave a cynical laugh. “I fight for you, I bleed for you, and you can’t even give me one tiny part of yourself in return.”
She grit her teeth and tried to quell the anger welling up in her chest. “This isn’t the time to talk about us!”
“You never want to talk about us,” he retorted, meeting her eyes again. “All you do is fire rejection after rejection at me.” His eyes softened, a darkness washing over them, and the rage inside her stilled because his gaze sang of deep, irrepressible sadness. “A concession isn’t going to kill you, Blossom,” he whispered. “But every little ‘No,’ and ‘Sorry,’ and ‘Don’t ask me again, Brick?’ It’s like a little death, every time you look at me and say it.”
He raised his hand again to rest on her arm. His pupils were slowly dilating, and his hand slipped uneasily on her wrist. “Bleeding isn’t what’s going to kill me in the end,” he said quietly.
***
yeah, i suck. also, i don't get nearly enough sleep.
first, the blues fic, which is part of a much bigger one that is piecing itself together in my brain and involves all the boys and girls, but is proving to be one of those "epics" that will drive me to the brink of crazy. but at least i got something out of it!
***
“So what’d you come up here to think about?” he finally asked. “And if I’m interrupting the thought process, just tell me to shut up and I will.”
“No, don’t worry about that,” she assured, shaking her head. “It’s… not anything, really.” She rubbed at the sweat on her cup. “I just… well, I guess I was thinking about how great it was. The show, I mean.” She turned to him and smiled. “You really did great, you know?”
‘Oh God, Bubbles, where are you going with this?’ she thought.
He laughed and responded, “You’re one to talk. It was great singing with you. Come on, who wouldn’t want to sing with you, when you’ve got a voice as pretty as yours?”
Her mouth parted slightly and she gave him an incredulous look. “You never stop, do you?”
“I don’t,” he admitted, and rested his arm on the back of the bench. “But you give me such great material to work with.”
That expression of his had no trace of maliciousness or ill intent in it, and she just smiled in defeat and looked back at the sky for a second before setting her cup down and scooting a little closer. His arm instinctively curved around her shoulders. “Thank you,” she said quietly as she leant her head against his shoulder.
His breathing was deep, and after a few minutes he whispered, “So what’s with the sudden burst of affection these days?”
More thinking. Bubbles took a long time to respond. “It’s… I dunno.” She sat up and turned a little, resting her leg up on the bench between them. His arm retreated to the back of the bench.
Silence filled the space between them. For some reason she couldn’t stop staring at his shoes.
“… Go on,” he urged kindly. “I mean, if you want to.”
She thanked him with a smile and brief eye contact, then dropped her eyes to his shoes again. “So… it’s just, I was thinking you’re a really sweet guy, and you’ve become a really wonderful friend.”
He nodded, contemplating. “That ‘friend’ stuff is like knives in my heart, but that’s about par for the course.”
She laughed nervously and said, “No, no, this is so… argh!” She buried her face in her hands and sighed through them. “What am I trying to say? I seriously have no idea, this is coming out so wrong.”
“I kid, I kid, you know I kid,” she heard him say apologetically, and next thing she knew she felt his hand brushing against her cheek. “Hey, if you’ve got something you want to say, say it; if you don’t, no worries.”
She lowered her hands and met his gaze, which was charming and warm and completely undemanding of anything. He began to lower his hand from her cheek but she lifted hers and grasped his before it could move.
Everything stilled all at once, save for the clamoring people below them and the vibrations from the bass.
Finally he smiled and said softly, “You’re really messing with me here, you know?”
***
and a cookie of my first (published (sort of)) red fic! rejoice!
***
“Is this good enough for you?”
Blossom froze. “What?”
He slowly turned his head towards her, finally making eye contact. There was a nasty gash somewhere on his head; it was bleeding through his cap and down his face and she had to struggle with herself not to wipe the blood away.
“We were fighting about us,” he clarified. “Before the monster struck, anyway, we were fighting about us. And your standards, and mine. So me bleeding, maybe dying—am I worthy of Her Majesty’s Presence yet?” he snarled bitterly.
A silence stretched between them, marred only by his breathing.
“How can you possibly be thinking about this,” she finally whispered, seeing nothing but blood, blood, blood. His blood. “This doesn’t matter right now, what matters is—”
“If it didn’t matter then I wouldn’t be fucking bleeding in the first place,” he spat, then pulled back, hissing in pain. Blossom’s hands flew to his face, slipping against the blood on his skin.
“Listen to me—”
“Answer me. Does taking down a monster and bleeding for you make me a Goddamn hero?”
Her expression hardened, and she snapped, “Trying to impress a girl makes you no hero, it makes you selfish.”
“Oh, so me risking my life for you makes me an egotistical bastard?” he scoffed, face pointed at the ground. “You don’t want villains in your life, that makes sense, but you don’t want heroes, either.”
“Right now you aren’t any sort of hero, right now you’re just an idiot who’s too weak to move and won’t go to the hospital because you want some sort of concession from me that isn’t going to happen because you need to see a doctor!”
He gave a cynical laugh. “I fight for you, I bleed for you, and you can’t even give me one tiny part of yourself in return.”
She grit her teeth and tried to quell the anger welling up in her chest. “This isn’t the time to talk about us!”
“You never want to talk about us,” he retorted, meeting her eyes again. “All you do is fire rejection after rejection at me.” His eyes softened, a darkness washing over them, and the rage inside her stilled because his gaze sang of deep, irrepressible sadness. “A concession isn’t going to kill you, Blossom,” he whispered. “But every little ‘No,’ and ‘Sorry,’ and ‘Don’t ask me again, Brick?’ It’s like a little death, every time you look at me and say it.”
He raised his hand again to rest on her arm. His pupils were slowly dilating, and his hand slipped uneasily on her wrist. “Bleeding isn’t what’s going to kill me in the end,” he said quietly.
***
yeah, i suck. also, i don't get nearly enough sleep.
no subject
I must say that I am positively in love with your writing and your style. You're definitely at the top of the list of the few awesome PPG writers I've found. I've already read all your stories (quite a few times actually) and loved them all and well, I'm glad to see you're still alive. ^^
I hope you don't mind if I friend this journal? I'm in such a need for good ppg ficcage and your writing is just amazing. ♥
no subject