Dancing in the Velvet Moon

Loyalty-Andare Insano drabble piece o.O

2009-04-12T20:38:32Z

Loyalty.

The meaning of that word, it was different for every single person familiar with it. A concept, completely subjective to its surroundings, to the situation, to the very whims and beliefs of the ones emulating it.

Loyalty.

There were dogs and masters. Lovers and friends. Enemies and comrades. Each of these...each of these had loyalties. To a person, to an organization, to an ideal.

Loyalty.

It was the glue that held the eccentric personalities of the top Varia together. The only thing that bound the vastly different psyches of these men, each of them committed by a different reason, but all to the same ideal, the same organization, the same man.

Xanxus.

He was not a kind leader, nor was he benevolent, patient or understanding. He ruled them with a cold, merciless hand, destroyed those deemed too weak for serving him, swept away the trash not worthy to be in his presence, and most of all, destroyed all that stood in his way.
Eight years of being imprisoned within ice had not flawed his drive, rather, it had been increased thousand-fold. His hate, his tenacity, his grudge, but also his pride and ambition grew within that cold isolation, with no one but his own mind as company, alive but not living, cut off from the world. Trapped in an icy hell as punishment for not accepting the injustice towards him. The betrayal by his father, by his mother, by all he had held important in his young life.
No, Xanxus would never forgive that old fool. It did not matter if he had offered him unconditional love. He had lied to him. Had kept the truth that would have change his fate, would render him worthless, an adopted child out of pity. A future-less candidate for a position he would never be able to reach.
Hatred. Hatred and Anger were the forces that fueled Xanxus. Gave him that ferocious power, and gave him the unmistakable magnetic pull that kept his subordinates so dedicated.
Subordinates. Dogs would be a better description. For they feared and loved their leader as a dog fears and loves its master. Undoubtedly, they would follow him to the ends of the universe, follow that strength, that resolution, that unmistakable pride.
Although they each held ambitions of their own, they submitted willingly, passionately to the desire that drove Xanxus. To become the Vongola’s boss. To be the most revered and feared of the Mafia world. The king of their world.
It wasn’t love in a lover’s sense. That kind of emotion was not something surrounding this group of people. No, it was a different love. It was the same kind of love that a mouse may hold for a lion. An awed, overwhelmed and outclassed love. The kind of love for a higher being, for a different existence.
Varia respected, followed and revered Xanxus for his strength. Of determination, of willpower, of hatred and tenacity. Varia would follow Xanxus to their own deaths, laying down their lives for his ambitions with the loyalty of dogs.

Loyalty.

It was something that haunted her mind continously. A thought that never left her brain, a thought that kept her spending her nights in a cold cellar, staring at a block of steel, ice and chains.

Loyalty.
Eight years had passed, yet it kept her chained to this house, to this Family. But not out of gratitude for the 9th’s lenience towards her. No. It kept her chained to the bizarre sculpture of ice, to the steel container which seperated her from the one she followed, the one she would free. Of that, she had been sure since the day of the imprisonment.
Sometimes, the other members of Varia would show up in the cellar, out of respect or impatience was never clear. Only Squalo showed the signs of time, his hair growing at an astonishing speed, his resolution set to match that of Amadea. Their loyalty bound them to their master, kept Xanxus’s faithful dogs close, working on a near impossible plan to free him.
It was never out of love.
But out of their desire for his leadership, his presence, his ambition and pride. Without him, the six Varia officers drifted aimlessly, unable to shape their own ambitions into a plan. Suppressed by the merciful and compassionate nature of the 9th, Varia longed for the cruel, harsh leadership they understood. For the man who was their master.
So, they remained loyal. Watching. Waiting. All with unwavering loyalty

Andare Insano

2009-04-09T21:54:57Z

RANT TIME!
I'm sick to death of bad fanfiction. Seriously. It doesn't matter if its XS or bad Mary Sue OC's. Everything sucks. Everything breaks character. Xanxus is a difficult one to capture, yes, but does that mean you have the right violate his character by making him something he isn't? Such as caring, or soft, or emotional. NO.
So fuck off, I'm quitting READING fanfiction, and sticking to writing my own.

Andare Insano

"Why?! Why are you doing this?!" The young mafioso screamed up at his attacker, fearing for his life as he stared down the barrel of a gun that not long ago had been in his own hand.
"Because this is destiny." The female assassin replied, no emotion betraying her voice.
"But why?! Varia is supposed to be loyal to Vongola! Why?!" the young man whispered, horrified at the scene around him, the utter destruction, and the sight of his own blood, rushing from his body, his life, seeping away.
"Because this is what he wants. And what he wants, he gets." Amadea replied before pulling the trigger and putting the man out of his misery.
She let the gun drop from her hand, it was out of ammo and not her weapon anyway. It was time to follow Squalo and Xanxus into the basement of the HQ, to where the ninth would surely have been defeated by now.
As she stepped over dead bodies and destroyed parts of the building, she lit herself a cigarette, a habit she had developed in an early age. Her dark blue hair was starting to come out of the ponytail she’d pulled it into, but Amadea had no time or will to fix her appearance. Her Varia uniform, barely three months old, was stained with blood. Maybe she ought to consider using a long-distance weapon rather than her clawed staff.
Her ears picked up the faint sound of explosions and shouting, by the pitch of the voices, definitely male. It had to be them.
She came to a large set of heavy double doors. The ninth’s panic room...the right side of the door was hanging off of its hinges, barely holding on. She slid past it without so much as brushing the burnt wood.
The scene inside was almost worse than the one outside. The room was half collapsed. Courtesy of Xanxus’ flame of wrath. What marvelous destructive power her boss possessed...Amadea gave a small sigh of amazement. His abilities had always awed her.
"Vooiii, you’re late." A voice coughed to her left. Superbi Squalo was leaning against a pillar, a half-smirk on his bleeding face. So he was already defeated?
"Ah, Squalo, you don’t look so hot." Amadea came over to him, kneeling at his side and surveying the arm he was clenching.
"Broke it again?"
"Che. You look like hell yourself." Squalo spat, but he couldn’t help the glance over his shoulder. Amadea followed his gaze and finally saw Xanxus, battling with the ninth and already covered in similar wounds.
"So...he hasn’t won yet..."
"The old bastard is a lot tougher than we thought."
Just then, Xanxus began shouting his reasoning at his ‘father’ and Amadea fell silent, staring at Squalo’s widened eyes as he did the same.
"A...dopted?" Amadea whispered, but before Squalo could respond a huge crunching sound, something ice-like, filled the room followed shortly by a body hitting the floor.
Amadea helped Squalo up, throwing her cigarette down as they rounded the pillar.
What they saw next drained her of all words and thoughts, save one.
"No....no...fucking way....fro..zen?! Xanxus!!!"

~~
Amadea woke with a start. That damn memory had been surfacing in her mind way more than usual recently.
Even after eight years it felt like just yesterday. Sighing, she got up, walking into her bathroom and splashing her face with icy cold water. Letting the cold fluid stay on her face, she surveyed herself in the mirror. Her less than perfect vision blurred her outlines slightly, but she could make out her hair was a tangled blue-black mess. She never did find out how Squalo kept his immensely long white hair so smooth and straight.
"Damn shark..." she muttered, pulling out a comb and battling to run it through her hair several times. She slipped into her uniform with her other hand. It was still early in the morning, but she had to go down to the kitchens to see to it that Xanxus got exactly what he wanted. A bit of a servant duty, but Amadea didn’t really complain. This way, she could get her choice too. There were few things more important than food...And fewer things even more important than the Boss’ food. He certainly had exclusive taste.
Amadea pushed her glasses up her nose, sighing as the world finally became clear. She glanced at the staff propped next to her door. No, she shouldn’t need that on a simple trip to the kitchen...

All was quiet in the hallway as the only female member of the top officers of Varia made her way to the kitchen. Really, she wasn’t part of Xanxus’ six selected Guardians. She certainly didn’t lack strength or resolve, having been with the 9th’s son from the moment she joined the Vongola family. No, her job was different to the guardians. She was the Boss’ assistant, a title she seemed to share with Gola Mosca. However, there were many things the machine wasn’t capable of, and those fell to her. Also, Gola Mosca was expensive, and not as expendable as her. She took care of whatever Xanxus sent her to do. No question.

And currently, that task was to order his rather large breakfast and see to it that it was in perfect condition.

Stuffing her mouth whilst watching the delicacies being prepared for Xanxus, Amadea pondered as to why he always ate so much. Maybe he had eight years worth of meals to catch up on? That would be absurd. His body hadn’t aged, but by the thousand-fold increase of his temper and hatred, his mind had certainly been awake those eight years...

She shook her head. It was bad enough she spent most of her time around Xanxus, fulfilling his whims; he didn’t need to fill her mind too.

"Amadea-sama. The food is ready." A nervous maid announced to her. Amadea stood up, stretching in the black leathers of Varia. Time to bring the ‘king’ his morning reports and breakfast. Although, of course he’d only care for the one thing.

Amadea shook her head again as she followed the little food-cart into the hallway. Honestly, if she wasn’t around, no one would handle Varia’s missions and finances...Although Marmon loved money so much, he refused to deal with any but his own. And Xanxus certainly couldn’t care less what his subordinates did or didn’t do.

All too soon, the trembling servant and Amadea had reached the heavy oak doors that led to Xanxus’ rooms.
Amadea eyed the shaking young man in front of her. Poor kid, of course he was scared. His predecessor had still not been released from hospital after waking Xanxus up by mistake.

"Oi. Little dude." she called out as she searched her pockets for a pack of cigarettes. The shaking servant looked at her, his fear didn’t seem diminished even though Amadea’s reputation wasn’t as bad as her male companions.
"You can leave. I can wheel a cart by myself. Go on, get out of here." She gave a dismissive wave. The young man sighed with evident relief and made himself scarce.

Amadea gave a brief chuckle. She could understand the deep fear of the servants easily, but for many reasons, she couldn’t share it. Instead, she pushed the door open and wheeled the trolley in.
"Rise and shine, Boss." She called out sarcastically.

"Fuck off." Came the growling reply out of the darkness, and an empty whiskey bottle whistling through the air. Amadea ducked her head nonchalantly, closing the door as the bottle smashed outside on the hallway wall.

"Can’t do that. You gave me a schedule, I’m holding you to it." She wheeled the food to a corner, then went to the window and pulled the dark curtains back, letting the sun stream in. Xanxus swore heavily and turned over, cursing her name and wishing her a cruel, violent death.

"Are you quite finished?" Amadea sat in the now open window, now lighting a cigarette and blowing the smoke out into the cool, fresh, crisp morning air.

"I fucking hate it when you smoke in here. Put that fucking cigarette out." Xanxus growled as he sat up, his crimson eyes shooting a hateful glare towards her. Amadea sighed and let the cigarette drop out of the window, giving a chuckle when it hit the head of a passing servant.

Xanxus had stood up, washing his face to rid himself of his hangover. Amadea watched him out of the corner of her eye.
These were the perks of her job. Watching Xanxus topless first thing in the morning was definitely a plus for doing all his dirty work. Her deeply green eyes continued to linger on him as he strode over to the food-trolley, lifting the lids of the dishes and sneering suspiciously.

"What is this shit?"
"Breakfast. As you ordered. Are we going to do this every day, Boss?"
Amadea sighed, he was never satisfied until they’d argued, by which point the food was cold and of course it would be her fault.

"Hm. Not today trash. I have better things to do." Xanxus started eating, ignoring anything else Amadea did or said.
Amadea sat in the window-sill, watching the yard instead. Varia HQ was a beautiful Italian mansion, if one ignored its sinister atmosphere and terrified servants. Oh yeah, and its...eccentric residents.
She absent-mindedly reached for another cigarette, lighting it and savouring the taste.
"Ow, shit!" she swore as the metal dish hit her head.
"I told you not to fucking smoke in here trash. It fucking stinks." Xanxus snapped from across the room, finishing his food and getting dressed.
"...Oh yeah....fine whatever." Amadea dispatched another cigarette, watching it fall with some regret.
She didn’t even notice Xanxus walking over to tower over her,

"You shouldn’t fucking smoke anyway, trash."

"...Ain’t your place to decide, Boss." Amadea turned to face him defiantly, however she kept her eye-line below his.

"Yes it fucking is. If cancer kills you before your use runs out...you’re in fucking trouble, trash."
Xanxus turned on his heel, expecting her to follow him out. Amadea smirked lightly at his empty threat. It was his way of caring? Well...yeah right. She liked to delude herself like that. Anything that wasn’t useful to Xanxus was gotten rid of. She was useful, and he knew that. So of course, she was his property. Like Gola Mosca. It didn’t matter that she was human.

Does it please you to let me down?

2009-03-08T23:52:26Z

Eyes Of The Devil lyrics

It irks me when i get burned
And i realize, i don't get hurt
And always, it seems I've lost my way
When i feel you, it's not enough
And i need you to shun my touch
I notice the season's ripe for change

I'm weak
I'm weak

So with every new lesson learned
I could keep you before it turns
And the knowledge that things won't be the same
Now i realize that you have won
And there's nothing to be said or done
And i notice the wind won't blow my way

So run with the eyes of the devil
And keep them in your dreams
If you succumb to the lies of the rebel
You'll cleanse yourself of me

It kills me to watch this fade
And i realize it's all charade
And every mistake i make is the same
I beseech you to let me drown
Will it please you to let me down
And no one can save me from the pain

So run with the eyes of the devil
And keep them in your dreams
If you succumb to the lies of the rebel
You'll cleanse yourself of me

Jesus, save me! (I'm weak)
Jesus, save me from me.

(Seether, Eyes of the Devil)

These Violent Delights

2009-02-23T01:31:21Z

I felt like posting the SMUT for my Xanxus fic 8D
look away if you don't like lemons. Srsly.

"Onna." Xanxus’ deep voice echoed around the room, sending shudders down Amadea’s back. He’d called her woman. Not trash. Was she special now?
Not wanting to aggravate him by ignoring him, she turned around dutifully, but her gaze rested on his feet instead of his face. If she looked up, she certainly would have lunged at him, unable to contain her desire anymore.
"Hai, Xanxus-sama?" her eyes still fixed on his boots. But suddenly, they moved out of her vision. She heard his footsteps. One. What was he doing? Was he going to beat her? She hadn’t done anything to displease him, right? Two. Maybe he was bored and wanted to relieve his anger. Highly possible in this man. Three. Oh gods. He was right in front of her. His black boots had come to a halt in front of her, filling her vision as she picked out every detail of the expensive leather footwear.
"Onna. Look at me." Xanxus ordered, a hint of amusement in his voice.
Amadea looked up and just barely stopped herself from flinching back. He was right in front of her, closer than personal space should allow, his warm breath on her face. She could pick out the notion of alcohol on his breath, a delicious, intoxicating scent. Keeping her eyes firmly below his eye-level, Amadea felt her heart pounding hard against her ribcage. Damn it all to hell. Why did he make her so fucking nervous?! Why did she fear and love him at the same time? What was it about him that made her so dedicated to him, she’d never want to displease him, never disobey him?
A hand reached forward, grasping her jaw with an unexpectedly gentle grip. He pulled her eye-level up to his.
"I said look at me." he growled, but the amusement was gone from his face.
"Xanxus-sama, what are you doing?" Amadea breathed, she could see him react to her hot breath.
"You’ve been drinking." Xanxus leant forward, taking a whiff of her still open mouth,
"You’ve been drinking my whiskey." A chuckle rumbled in his chest as Amadea froze up completely for a moment. Then, she finally recovered herself.
"Its the best in the house. I was thirsty." She retorted, confident that he hadn’t called her for ridding himself of anger.
"How do you intend to replace it?" Xanxus’ face was still hovering inches from hers, his crimson eyes staring shamelessly into hers, his hand on her chin.
"However you would like me to." Amadea’s lips curled into a smirk, two could play this game. What good would it do to freeze up like an innocent lamb in front of this man? He was no gentleman. He was no nobleman. He was a Mafioso, in the truest definition of the word. She was an assassin. There was nothing between the two of them that suggested they had to respect one another. No rules, no morals, no regulations to how they should interact.
Xanxus felt that desire reach a painful height, and this time, he wouldn’t disappoint it.
"What is it you want from me, Xanxus-sama?" Amadea breathed, feeling his grip on her get tighter, as if he could never express the true thoughts in his head. She knew. She knew he wanted her. If it was only lust, or sexual frustration, or simply the libido of any man, it didn’t matter. If he wanted her, he could take her, however he pleased.
"You." Xanxus growled, before crashing his lips into hers, his eyes remaining open to watch for her reaction. But instead of fear, Amadea closed her eyes, her lips ready for him, desperate for him. He wasted no time in letting his tongue make its way into her mouth, tasting the oh so familiar taste of his favorite whiskey. It was an incredibly pleasing sensation, and Xanxus’ other arm coiled around her waist, pulling her flush against his body, raising her to her tip-toes to reach him.
Amadea’s arms snaked around his neck, holding herself in place as his kiss became rough, his lips an unstoppable force against hers.
She hadn’t expected him to be gentle, so she offered resistance, biting his lip in warning. A pleased growl rumbled in Xanxus’ throat as he backed her against a wall, his hands now roaming hungrily around her body, respectless and interested.
Amadea could only think about how good it felt to be kissing Xanxus. At last. She had dreamed of this, on so many occasions, and he didn’t fail to meet her expectations. His kiss was completely dominating, thrilling her to her core. Her legs lifted up to circle his waist, fervently wishing the layers of clothing would disappear. Xanxus’ arm left her waist, pulling her thigh up higher, allowing her leg to wrap around his waist as his hand slipped under her shirt, roaming over the hot skin.
Amadea gave a little whimper, but it was drowned by his kiss, which only grew more impatient and insistent. Finally, Amadea’s hands left his neck, instead tearing off all the buttons on his simple shirt, tearing at his belt-buckle, unable to undo it in her feverish haste.
Xanxus pulled back from her lips, his forehead resting on hers, his crimson eyes full of lust, his lips curled into a smirk.
"So impatient, Amadea. And here was me thinking I was the fucking only one wanting to do this."
Amadea’s hands caressed his chest, her brain slowly melting from the overwhelming satisfaction and hunger she felt simultaneously.
"You should have fucking asked me." she breathed, leaning in to kiss his neck, sinking her teeth against his skin, taking in his taste before leaving dark red marks, Xanxus gave a little pleased groan,
"I should have just fucked you the moment I saw you." He almost laughed, his hands pretty much ripping her clothes out of the way.
"Maybe you should have." Amadea whispered, sliding her leg down to support her, before she crouched in front of him, finally ridding him of his trousers.
Xanxus could easily see what she was going for, and a pleased smirk replaced the amusement on his face. His hand dug into her hair, his other hand pulling her up by her shoulder.
"Not now. I want to do this," His lips met hers again, and this time he closed his eyes, there was no point staring at her closed ones after all. Amadea felt herself melt against his bare body, obeying his every wish was all she ever wanted, all she would give to him. A sharp gasp escaped her when Xanxus pushed himself into her without warning.
The light pain spindled into pleasure as she grew used to him, her hands digging into his back as he started moving in and out. His thrusts weren’t gentle, but the speed and strength of them felt exactly right. Enough to make Amadea gasp and moan, but not enough to send her straight over the edge.
Xanxus’ mouth was still covering hers, and his groans were equally covered by their kiss.
His hips started speeding up, unable to control the burning desire inside of Xanxus, and he pulled back to groan, his body already working up a light sweat. He leant his head to her ear, his tongue briefly touching the shell before whispering
"You feel good, Amadea. You’re mine. You’re fucking mine alone. Understand?"
Amadea’s eyes rolled back into her head, she had to concentrate hard to formulate a coherent reply.
"Yes! Xanxus-sama!" she shot forward to capture his lips again, to which he didn’t resist. His teeth sunk into her lip, drawing blood. Another longing moan from her was his reward, and Xanxus tightened his grip and upped his pace.
Amadea arched her back, this felt amazing, better than any of her daydreams could ever paint for her. Xanxus was a rough lover, but what else could be expected from him? Nothing. She’d probably be disappointed if he wasn’t like this. Pounding her into the wall. She couldn’t take it much longer.
"Xanxus!" She exclaimed, nails digging into the sweaty skin of his back, breath only coming ragged to her, mind reeling with the overload of pleasure.
Xanxus pushed his head into her neck, teeth grabbing whatever skin was in front of him as he finished with a rumbling groan. Amadea followed him with a scream of pleasure.
Silence followed, only punctuated by Amadea’s heavy breathing. Xanxus seemed barely tired, the only signs of his exertion was the fine, misty layer of salty sweat that covered his muscular body.
Amadea leant back against the wall, closing her eyes briefly to try and control her spasming mind.
"Xanxus-sama..."
A hot, wet sensation greeted her neck as Xanxus’ tongue moved against it slowly, giving her one slow, lustrous lick that ended at her chin.
"Hm. Onna. I hope you aren’t finished." He whispered huskily, his red eyes searing into her green ones,
"Because this night has only started." A devilish smile appeared on his lips as his hands began working her inner thighs.
Amadea’s lips spread into a wide smirk, leaning forward to rest her forehead on his,
"Ti amo, Xanxus-sama."
~~~
smuuuuuttteh WIN! 8D

I can make you a man!

2009-02-15T23:13:40Z

Random subject is random.
I seem to have abandoned LJ recently, so just to let y'all know I am alive 8D
And into KHR deeper than ever!
Xanxus has stolen my fangirl lovin' entirely. I blame him for distracting me from EVERYTHING.
Gyah, he is so...*o*
Scar fetish? Yes xD And I've always had a thing for antagonists...om nom nom.
So I'm cookie monster now according to Dorkster. Greeat.
Cosplay is my life!
Education is boring, not worth writing about.
Romance is dead, relationships hold no interest to me anymore.
Friends, that's all I need. 8D crazy mofos who understand and love me for being insane. yay. XD
Wow, I'm really bored writing about myself. o.o; and I haven't written fic, because I've been rping with Dorkster again, so all creativity is sapped away...Also starting a Xanxus fanfic...but not gonna post that anywhere, that's just a private fanservice. XD
ah...Off to read some 5927~

Chapter 5~Still Doll

2009-01-02T20:21:18Z

Chapter 5

"And so, I have done all I can."

Unohana concluded, watching the younger Taichou with a reserved look of patience, hiding her exhaustion and puzzlement. Her past two days had been very...interesting, to say the least.
Trying to figure out what had happened to Ayazani had proven itself too difficult, nothing could be extracted from her. Or rather, the creature that had her shape.

"I see...Thank you."
Hitsugaya replied tonelessly, his hand stroking over the dark hair softly, lovingly. In the past two days, from the moment of discovery, nothing had been able to part the Captain of Tenth from the sad hollow-like creature he now cradled.
And despite all efforts to tell him that this was not the shinigami whom he loved, he just didn’t seem to care.
"If that’s all Unohana-san, I’d like to be alone with her."

Unohana let a delicate frown touch her features. Her. That was an overstatement. The creature was not capable of speech, or human understanding it seemed. All responses it had made were those of a hollow.
Nothing of Ayazani remained. Except for the strange pacifistic behaviour of the creature, nothing gave away any signs that the Captain of Fifth was still present.

And yet, the one person who should know this the best was the one person who could never let go of the idea, the faint hope that Ayazani was still here, still here for him to hold, to rescue, to reclaim as his, to protect from those who would not believe in her.

Unohana stood and left the room silently, not uttering another word until she’d reached the threshold,
"Hitsugaya-Taichou, please realise...this is not your wife anymore."
Her quiet words etched sharply into the silence. Toushiro did not grace her with a response, his gentle grip on the resting creature tightened by merely a fraction.
Unohana shook her head and left them alone, there was nothing she could say that would get through to him.
~~
"Ano..."
A young girl awaited the healer anxiously, lines of worry creasing her forehead.
"Shana-san."
The older woman greeted gently, yet without being patronizing.
The girl had accepted the news a lot better than her father, and she suffered no dellusion that her mother had returned. Yet she was suffering just as much as Toushiro.

"Is he...still with it?"
The stress Shana put on the word ‘it’ made Unohana aware of the anger beneath the worried exterior, and it baffled her. Worry, Sorrow, Loss, Suffering was what she had anticipated from the Hitsugaya family. But not this emotion, not this rage that was shining through.
Unohana found herself without an urge to find out.

"Hai. I don’t think an earthquake could seperate your father from...it."
"I see." Shana nodded briefly, in a manner that didn’t suit her age or appearance, the stern determinated look she adopted was much more like her father’s. The black-haired girl stomped past Unohana, down the corridor she’d just come from. Clearly, Shana would try to get through to Toushiro. Maybe she could. They were family after all.
~~
"Aya~chaan..."
Toushiro called her name softly, his voice was almost hoarse from the past days, but he didn’t want to waste any time they had together. The medical team surrounding them almost every hour of the day told him, it seemed, every ten minutes that this was not Ayazani. Fools. What did they know? Had they been by her side when she almost died and lost her memory?
Did they do anything to bring her back to how she was?

No.
Of course not.
That had been his job.
His task.

He had been the only one who believed that she could regain the memories. The only one to believe in her.
Had these fools of 4th Division been by her side when she defeated their greatest enemy, Aizen?

No. He’d been the only one to stand behind her then too.

Why was this time so different? Why couldn’t anyone but him see that Ayazani was not gone? She was still there, inside that Hollow form, she was alive.

Not even Shana, her own daughter, believed in her now.

But he would. Hitsugaya Toushiro always would. Because nothing in the world could make him abandon this woman. His lover, his best friend, his wife.

The dark creature stirred lightly. A smile curved the cracked and dry lips, a weak glimmer went through her odd eyes. Toushiro felt his heartbeat quicken, perhaps this time, she’d use his name, prove to him she was truly back.

"Kuuuuu." She trilled softly, her hollow limb reaching out to his face.
Toushiro withstood his body’s natural disgust at the hollow’s touch, he’d learned not to flinch away from the tentacle.

"Aya-chan?"

He asked again, his eyes trained on hers, hoping for a glimmer of recognition.

"Kuuuu!" The creature expressed another noise, this one sounded more joyous, and the tentacle slid over his hair and down his neck, feeling its way beneath his robes.
Toushiro couldn’t help the colour rising to his face as he gently pulled the tentacle from his clothes.

"Aya-chan, its me. Toushiro. Come on, you remember me, don’t you?"
The creature tilted its head, the mouth twisting around unfamiliar speech, as if rehearsing.

Toushiro could do nothing but stare pleadingly at her. What had brought her memories back last time? Oh yes...A kiss...How terribly cliche and romantic. But last time, Ayazani had retained her shinigami shape, at least. But now...

Toushiro reached forward as the creature continued to mumble to itself, his hand gingerly tugging on the worn black robes covering its body.
Giving up on its existence as clothing, the material slipped down, revealing a sight that, under normal circumstances, would have turned Toushiro’s face red and his thoughts in only one direction.

But now, he wasn’t just staring at her chest. He was staring at the hole. The small, black, but perfectly round hole that sat as if it had always been there, in the middle of her chest.
Toushiro remembered to breathe, and he looked up from the repulsive new feature to her face.

The creature no longer looked satisfied or happy. It, no, She, looked sad, worried, disappointed. As if she hadn’t been aware of her hole herself.

Toushiro felt himself overrun with a mixture of emotion. Disgust at the idea that his beloved’s body could be so dephiled and hollow-fied, grief, for the loss of Ayazani’s soul, and hatred for whoever had done this to her.

Taking the blanket from behind her, he wrapped it around her shoulders gently, letting his finger caress the soft skin of her collarbone slowly.
The creature looked into his face, its bruised face pulled into a confused frown.

"Aya-chan...come back to me...please..."
Toushiro whispered, placing a soft kiss on her forehead.

"...Ku...Tous...Toush..."
The creature struggled around the unfamiliar language, yet the familiarity of the word was too seductive for her to give up trying.

"Toush...Toushi!" Frustration laced into her voice.

"Shh...its okay. Aya-chan, I know...I won’t give up on you."
Toushiro’s mouth stretched into a small, hopeful smile, he wasn’t wrong, she was still...somewhere in this body.
Ayazani, for Hitsugaya knew this was Ayazani, in whatever creature’s form she was, returned his smile, and then slumped down, resting her head on his lap and sinking into a light sleep quickly.
Toushiro resumed his stroking of her hair. Day by day, she seemed more and more...like herself. And yet, she only seemed to act like herself when they were alone. As if she didn’t trust the other shinigami. But their opinions didn’t matter to Toushiro. There was hope.

Chapter 4~All I need

2008-12-10T19:56:33Z

"Oto-san! Oto-san, come on!"

Shana pulled relentlessly at the limp arm hanging over the edge of the bed. Toushiro groaned from beneath the covers, unwilling to respond to his daughter’s pleas.

"Oto-san, you need to come see my Sensei today, we’ll be late if you don’t get up!"
Shana whined a little more, finally getting the response she wanted.

Toushiro sat up, rubbing his messy white hair out of his face and yawning widely. He grunted something unintelligible at his child, and she understood enough to leave the room as he got dressed.

Shana breathed a sigh of relief and scooted into the kitchen to grab some breakfast for her father from the fridge.

It had been fourteen months since she lost her mother, and her father was finally showing signs of recovery. Only tiny ones, such as actually communicating with others, and able to socialize at least once a week. The stress on Matsumoto had been stacked too high to allow him any more recovery time. Now, tenth division was back in full working order. And assisting fifth whenever they could. Shana guessed that her father felt responsibility for his wife’s Division as well as his own.

Her mother. Ayazani.

She felt so distant now, and only a happy echo of her time with her seemed to remain.
Shana knew Toushiro was still in pain about Ayazani, eating it into himself, not letting her share his burden.
Not that she could. But she had wondered whether Toushiro would ever let himself feel as much for a woman other than her mother. He wore the ring, he kept all the pictures, and he still visited her grave daily, now alone, as Shana found herself more intrusive when with him.

Maybe she was just coping better with the loss because she still had one of her parents. Toushiro didn’t have another wife or lover, and there was only so much comfort a child could give.

Shana’s thoughts were caught short as the door opened and her father appeared in his full captain’s uniform, his hair spiked back into his usual style, and his face looking more alert than five minutes ago. However, the bags under his eyes told Shana he was still suffering from insomnia, he still couldn’t find rest at night.

"Let’s go then."
Toushiro grumbled, not touching anything on the table and heading straight for the door.

"Hai, oto-san." Shana trailed behind him, thoughtful still.
************
Cold slivering, the sounds of slick skin against a moist surface, was all the warning she got. The small snake-like hollow lunged, thinking it had ensnared a tasty victim. Oh how wrong it had been.

Catching the swift creature with her strong right hand, the shinigami let a delirious smile curve her lips. Her breathing was reminiscent of a rattling of chains over rough ground, her eyes wide and suspicious as she bit into the smaller creature.

The hollow screamed, but its cry for help would be ignored by his fellow hollow, for no one would approach this kind of creature willingly.

Dark blood ran down the side of her face, only to soak into a black uniform, torn and shredded, but still hanging on by threads. Black hair snaked down her back, the devoured hollow adding its reiatsu into the ever-moving mane of power that almost enveloped its small host.

Black tendrils, almost like tentacles forming a sort of claw, protruded from the loose left sleeve, where the arm had been severed brutally.

The white mask replaced itself on her face, the frozen grin of the hollow that no longer possessed her its only distinctive feature.

Onwards, onwards, she had to keep moving. It wasn’t far now. From the moment she had escaped Las Noches, she had been seeking only one thing; a way home. To her home, to her comrades, to her beloved.

But the clear memories and distinctions between the three had been lost to her, bleached from her mind by the past month. Only an insatiable hunger for a familiar place drove her onwards now.

There!

A rip, shimmering lightly, dared to tease and taunt her. Her black make-shift arm reached forward, grasping the tear firmly, ripping at its size, she could feel the life on the other side. Life, for which she hungered.

With a deep, wistful howl, the pseudo-arrancar ripped the hole into Soul Society and stumbled through, only to have the rip shut almost angrily behind her.
Life. Another deep breath, this time more of a whiff, and the cruel, frozen smile widened. The forked tongue flicked out briefly to lick non-existent lips. This was mealtime.

"Ho....Hollow!!!!"

A young shinigami student had watched the creature come through and now stood, terrified, rooted to the spot.
Hunger overcame her at the sight of his delicate reiatsu. By the feel of the surrounding reiatsus, she had landed in the academy, practically a banquet of unprepared, fearful students.

She lunged.
*****
Toushiro stopped so suddenly that Shana walked straight into his back and tumbled to the ground, complaining loudly as he didn’t move an inch to help her up.

"Nani?!" She demanded.

He did not answer. His eyes were wide, and his face frozen in silent shock.
Shana frowned.

He couldn’t believe it. He heard Shana talking behind him, barely felt her collide with his back. All that filled his mind was the touch of that reiatsu.
So...distinct, something he had prayed, hoped and wished fervently for.
But it couldn’t be real, right?

It felt polluted, diluted, and yet, it was there. The trace, the living trace, not a trail laid by her Zanpaktous...

He felt his heart race in his chest, his lungs screaming for air as he had held his breath, as if to savour the scent. He gasped air into his lungs, but couldn’t bring his mouth to form the words.

"Shana..." He finally whispered.
His daughter looked confused and annoyed, so it had only been him that had picked up the scent.

"Shana go ahead, I’ll catch up in a bit."
There was no need to fill her with the same mad hope he now had.

Shana grumbled, kicked a rock and obeyed, walking away quickly, but she kept glancing at him, as if worried he’d finally lost it.

As soon as she was out of sight, Toushiro flash-stepped to the source of the reiatsu.
By chance, he ended up at the Academy. But it wasn’t the scene he had dreamed up in his mad hopes.

A ring of quivering students stood in a circle, teachers in front, watching a hunched over, dark figure with tendrils that marked it as a hollow lingering in the air around it.

"Hitsugaya-Taichou!" One of the teachers breathed with relief.

Toushiro didn’t hear his name. He didn’t stop once he’d pushed through the crowd. Without hesitation, he walked past the outstretched Zanpaktous held against the Hollow.
The creature did nothing to stop his approach, its stance was still one of defense, only its black and orange eyes watched the shinigami.

Once at its side, Toushiro reached forward, ignoring the cries of despair around him, and placed both hands on the mask, pulling it harshly towards him. The hollow gave a howl, then slumped, as if suddenly drained, and collapsed into Hitsugaya’s arms.
He sank to his knees cradling the creature to himself, his hands buried in the messy black hair, his eyes full of tears and clenched shut, the only word escaping his barely parted lips being

"Aya-chan."

She was alive. It didn’t matter how, it didn’t matter what she was now, she was alive, she was home, she was with him. The relief and the pain in him were almost too much, surely too great for a single body to contain this intensity of emotion?

"Kurimatsu Ayazani!" A teacher exclaimed, gathering his wits and sending a student to fourth division immediately.

Hitsugaya rocked slightly, unable to gather his thoughts, his pure feeling of completion, of the restoration of his once-happy life. Even though he knew he must get aid for her, the giant waves of emotion immobilized him. He just sat on the floor, clutching his unconscious wife to his chest, burying his head in her hair, whispered words lost amongst the wall of noise erupting from the crowd at the recognition.

Still Doll

2008-12-10T13:34:39Z

I felt like posting above the story, pshaw.
I wrote another chapter of Dancing in the Velvet Moon! -waits for applause...crickets-
Ah well, I like it, and that's all that matters XD
Of course, it will be sent to my beta tonight ^_^
My explosion of Hitsugaya love is taking its toll...Everything must be Hitsu-fied, LJ, DA, My...wait, that's already done...Damn it.
I guess I gotta write more fic...
I need to consult FM on plot, because right now its kind of flailing. I guess I should put the past 3 stories up too, since this is the 4th one.
Hitsugaya Love never stops! Even when you kill off the OC and leave him in misery...
But then, I felt so terrible for Toushiro that she couldn't be dead, he should never be in so much pain. I fail. I suck, but only for Hitsu ID
As for OC following the pairings rant...
Ayazani(I took her name, she had it first) was written for Hitsugaya, but she is her own person. And she is the only kind of person I could possibly see with Hitsugaya.
I even have the support of a devout Slash-fangirl-writer. Yes FM this means you!
Hitsugaya is just not gay...and he's not simple, no one in Bleach would make a decent pairing with him.
-rant over-
Anyways! I'm bored, hence post.

SeVen {Chapter 2} Eddie~

2008-12-03T00:24:47Z

This time for sure.

This time that silver-haired weirdo would not escape him. His sniper-rifle didn’t move a millimeter as he wiped the sweat of his brow. How long had he waited for this moment? This opportune moment, why shouldn’t he savour it?

And that is exactly what he would do.
Whilst SeVen and his new companion were below, unsuspecting and devouring some sort of meal, he, Edward Berkeley, would savour the moment he would finally collect the huge bounty on the astonishingly evasive Hitman. It felt good to know HE would be the one, the one to make a famous name of his doubly famous quarry.

"Good job Eddie! You’re an amazing bounty-hunter!"

He could hear the praise in his mind, and a blissful smile spread on his tanned face. He would look amazing, in his combat gear, a cigar in his mouth, his boot on the back of the neck of the Hitman SeVen, and a shower of money raining on his head.

Eddie ran a hand through his smooth black hair, which had been combed neatly this morning as every other morning. He took pride in his appearance, and never once did he look messy or as absurd as the prey he pursued for over two years now.

Routinely, he checked over his equipment. The sniper-rifle was still in perfect position, so he left it out of his inspection. Everything else had been taken apart to fit into his suitcase, which was the only thing he always carried with him. The several handguns were of course well kept as anything of his, from his immaculate, mid-length hair that tumbled over half of his face, to his dyed black combat suit and his shining boots.

Everything he owned had a purpose, was well looked after and in perfect condition. Edward Berkeley had not been a bounty hunter of eight years for nothing.

No one evaded him if he wanted their head.

No one except SeVen.

Eddie ground his teeth angrily. It was one of the many reasons he hated that man so deeply. He had sullied his reputation, made a joke out of him and everything he stood for, and sullied his name, along with...He hated SeVen. He wanted to be the one to capture him, to wipe that god damn smile off his clownish face, to see him beg for mercy.

Eddie’s lips curved into a cruel smile. Yes, he would enjoy this moment of triumph.

He peered through the visor again.

A young Asian looking girl sat with SeVen, evidently annoyed by him, the look on her face was one of pure irritation. Was she his latest victim, entrapped with his deceptive charms?

Eddie narrowed his ice-blue eyes. Poor girl. She had no idea what she’d gotten herself into with that man.

******

"Seriously, how are we gonna pay for all this?!"

Mori hissed, barely suppressing the rage in her voice. SeVen sat across from her, his plate full every time he returned from the buffet inside.
An innocent look on his young face, SeVen stared at her with his mouth full, continuing to shovel food into the already cramped space.

"Are you even listening to me!?"

Mori snapped, the irritation making her voice rise in volume.
SeVen’s face changed to a look of pleading, his visible eye widening and with a tilt of his head, he was looking at her through his lashes.
Mori drew her breath in sharply. If his mouth hadn’t been stuffed to the fullest to give him a certain hamster resemblance, she would have found herself dazzled by that look he gave her.
But with the hamster cheeks, none of the charms of his good looks worked on her.

"You heard me. How’re we gonna pay for it?!"

SeVen swallowed the huge amount of food, and a wide smirk crawled across his face. His emerald eye sparkled with mischief and intent and he gave his beautiful silver hair a brief shake.

"Mori Hichigawa, you were a thief. Unemployed yes, but certainly skilled in your trade, right?"

His words were almost praising, although he hadn’t addressed her previous ‘occupation’ in the last two weeks she’d spent at his side.
Mori felt a blush creep up her cheeks and reaching the top of her ears, where it burned with her embarrassment.

She hadn’t exactly been a very good thief either, and the way he complimented her in his strange accent and soft voice made her feel like he was whispering it in her ear accompanied with a soft caress by his gloved hand. Maybe it was just his voice, or the way in which he expressed himself. It was like velvet, almost smothering her coherent thoughts to pure nothingness and simple, yet futile desire.

Mori shook her head violently, she had to stop those daydreams of hers. They certainly weren’t helpful.
As she had all this contemplative thought, SeVen had simply just been looking at her. Seemingly amused by her obvious embarrassment and lack for words.

Bastard.
Was he laughing at her? Did he even think of how he affected those around him, especially women? It wasn’t just her who noticed all these things about him. He had to know that. More than once, he’d used his natural ‘charms’ to get them a place to sleep or eat, for which Mori was not ungrateful for, but it still appalled the strong feminine side of her.

"Are you done sticking your head in the sand, Ostrich-san?"

SeVen’s velvety voice interrupted her thoughts again. She replied to his mocking comment with a glare, hoping it would scorch that velvet quality from his voice.

He gave a sudden laugh, like her glare had been the funniest joke he’d ever been told. Mori blinked in surprise. His laugh rang out like an infectious ringing of bells, bells wrapped in velvet. It was an addictively attractive sound.

SeVen caught himself, coughing into his gloved fist to clear his face of the broad smile, reducing it to a conspiratory smirk. Mori leant forward as he did, awaiting a glamorous plan or explanation from him.

"When the waiter turns his back, run."
SeVen whispered.

Mori nearly fell off her chair. What?! This was his great plan?! Oh yes, what a Hitman, eat and runs, sleeping on park benches...and absolutely no money. Great. What an employer she’d found herself.
But Mori didn’t have time to chide him for his pathetic plan.
The waiter had turned his back to them.

"GO MORI GO!"

SeVen instructed rather loudly, grabbing his worn down backpack and leaping over the little barrier between the restaurant/buffet and the street. Mori scrambled after him as he flew down the street, the stunned staff of the food place screaming for someone to stop them.

SeVen turned another corner, and she followed blindly. They ran straight into a dead-end.

"Aw crap."

SeVen scratched his head, looking up at the forbidding wall, there was no way a human could scale it fast enough to escape. He sighed and turned slightly, pausing to light a cigarette.

"What the hell are you doing?! We’re gonna get caught!!"
Mori felt panic rise in her. Years as a thief had taught her caution and a more than healthy respect and fear of getting trapped by the law.

SeVen’s calm exterior didn’t change at her demand, so she resorted to pulling at his sleeves.

"Oi, what do you plan on doing?! We can’t make a stand here!"

"Who’s gonna fight?"
SeVen looked at her incredulously, like he’d never even considered that option.
Mori’s jaw fell open.

"What are you saying? We just let ourselves get caught? I thought you were a famous Hitman?"

"Hitman, Thief, Jack of all Trades de extraordinaire!"
SeVen corrected, for which he earned a scornful glare. Shaking his sleeve free of her hold, he smoothed the cloth to his arm.

"You worry too much, ostrich-girl. They don’t know who I am. Or if they do, they certainly don’t know you. Which means you can claim that you," SeVen pulled a pitiful expression and his lip quivered with faked emotion, his voice rising several octaves, "were seduced by the promises of this wretched criminal."

Mori twitched slightly, his acting out his impression of her inspired her with an urge to hit him repeatedly, at least until something gave a satisfactory snap or crack. However, he did have a good point.
She was still incredibly uncomfortable with the situation and would have preferred not to get caught in the first place.

She could hear their pursuers now, noisily roaming closer to them. SeVen seemed entirely disinterested in the officers chasing them. He had found a wooden box to sit on and was playing with a deck of cards.

"How can you be so calm, you idiot!?"
Mori fumed, pacing up and down and glowering at her boss.
SeVen blinked as if he didn’t know their situation.

"Settle down Ostrich. It’ll be all right."

His velvet voice soothed her, wrapping itself around Mori, calming her almost erratic fears.
She let herself lean on the wall next to him.

"Stop calling me Ostrich."
She murmured. A smile curved SeVen’s lips before he pursed them into a pout,

"But then I have to think of a whole new name for you, Ostrich."

Mori gave a heavy sigh.

Suddenly, a black Rolls Royce limo shot down the narrow street. Mori thought it would flatten them against the wall for sure, and there was no escaping her death.

But at the last minute, the vehicle’s brakes were slammed down, the tires leaving a smoking, black mark across the concrete, the wheels screeching in protest to the harsh treatment.
The rear end of the limo was just in front of them now, the door flung open by an unseen occupant.

"Get in."
A deep voice commanded.

Mori stared incredulously, like hell she would jump into a strange car. Something brushed past her. SeVen slid into the vehicle without so much as a word to her.

"S...SeVen?"

She called unsurely. He looked out of the car with a bored expression, flicking the ash of his cigarette out of the window.

"You coming or not, Ostrich?"

"Don’t call me that!!!"

Mori slammed the door shut behind her, and the mystery driver stepped harshly on the gas. The limo lurched forward to take them to whatever they had gotten themselves into now. Mori chewed her lip with worry and glanced toward her boss.
If she had been an anime character, she would have sweat-dropped.
Snores echoed around the silent rear end of the limo.

"Idiot." She muttered.

SeVen {first part of Ch1}

2008-12-01T21:53:26Z

Okay, so its not finished, but this is the first part, the initial meeting of my two main characters.

Chapter one, meeting a Hitman

"Hey, look at that hobo on the bench!"
A teenage girl giggled and pointed out her object of interest to her friends.
Out of sheer boredom, Mori Hichigawa followed the girls’ glances. Indeed, there was a sleeping lump on the bench, snoring contently in the late afternoon, oblivious to the masses of people passing it by.
Mori shrugged, what was so unusual about someone homeless during this recession?
Although, she didn’t think many homeless people wore suits and looked well-kept.
Since she had nothing better to do, the green-haired young woman approached the sleeper. At a closer look, the person didn’t seem quite as ordinary as she had thought. A shock of silver hair was visible beneath the hat pulled over the sleeping face. Headphones emitted a low but clear drum-beat, probably some heavy rock or metal music.
The stranger was wearing a suit and tie, and he, she decided it had to be a male, since there was nothing visible in the chest area, and was resting on a packed full backpack.
Mori suddenly lost interest and glanced at her watch. Damnit! She had to be at a meeting with her associate and sister, Shizu, in less than ten minutes.
Not giving the sleeping stranger another look, she rushed off to catch the bus.

Night was coming was coming fast when Mori returned to the city center. Her meeting with her sister had not gone well. It seemed work was slim in the city, even on the filthy underbelly of crime. Shizu had suggested they travel to other countries in europe, leave their familiar England behind. Easy for her to say, she was fluent in fourteen languages, whereas Mori was limited to english and japanese.
She passed the same park thoughtfully, not really paying attention to her surroundings. If she didn’t manage to at least get someone’s wallet or purse, she’d have nothing to eat this night too.
A memory popped into her mind. That stranger. Was he still on that park bench? His bag had looked full, and he didn’t seem like the money-less typical homeless.
Her eyes traveled through the dusk to that bench. She could barely believe her luck. He was still there, in the same position as the last time she’d seen him. Her mind was made up quickly, her meal ticket had to be in that bag under his head.
Mori approached silently, glancing around to see if anyone would witness her crime. Once again, a stroke of luck. It must have been mealtime, because not a single human soul was around.
The young woman looked down at the sleeper. The hat still covered the face, and there was no sign of movement. Maybe he was unconscious? It certainly seemed that way.
Quickly, she crouched by his head, her fingers swiftly unlatching the bag. A heap of books landed in her hands.
"Manga?" She breathed astounded. Not something she’d expected. Pushing the graphic novels aside, she dug further into the bag.
"Damnit, doesn’t this guy have anything valuable?" she swore under her breath.
"Not where you’re looking, no."
"Well that sucks ass!"
Mori froze. That voice had not been familiar, and certainly hadn’t come from her head or mouth. Slowly, she looked up wearily.
The barrel of a silver gun greeted her vision. Mori froze all together. Armed. Awake.
The face behind the gun yawned, an emerald eye looking bored but slightly amused.
Mori’s eyes travelled quickly over the awakened sleeper’s face.
His right eye was completely covered by silver hair, which peeked out messily from under his black hat.
His left eye was fully visible, but ringed with black, which flowed into a star like pattern around the stranger’s eye and cheek. His full lips were half black, half pale red, his bottom lip pierced.
From what was visible of his neck, the number seven lingered in tattoo-form. He was incredibly handsome, almost on the verge of feminine beauty. It was unsettling.
"Oh." Was all that left Mori’s lips.
"Its not nice to rob a sleeping man, young lady." The stranger spoke again, his voice was soft, and his english held a foreign accent she couldn’t quite place.
"What’s your name, little thief?"
"M..Mori..." Mori replied hesitantly, the gun was still pointing at her face.
"Well, Mori, I’d suggest you put what you found back in the bag. Manga is precious and shouldn’t be laying on the floor."
Mori obeyed silently, briefly wondering why an armed manga-collector was sleeping on a park-bench.
When she was done, she glanced back at the strange face.
"Good girl. Now stand up, turn around, and walk away." The stranger commanded.
Mori obeyed again, hearing the gun being holstered as soon as she’d walked a couple of steps.
She turned slightly, to see the stranger stand up and pick up his bag, then leaving the park in the opposite direction she’d taken.
"Wait!" she called, catching the young man’s attention once more.
"Hm?"
"Who are you?" Mori asked bluntly, curiousity had gotten the better of her.
What she had not anticipated was the response he gave her.
The stranger whipped out two guns and posed on the arm of the bench, a wide smirk on his face.
"Hitman, Thief, opportunistic Jack of all trades de extraordinaire, SeVen!"
Silence reigned over the park. Mori stared, a hint of disbelief on her face. what kind of stupid introduction was that? What kind of name was Seven? And what was with the pose? And what kind of hitman introduced himself so noisily?!
SeVen shifted slightly, eye still staring at her, waiting for some kind of response.
"I’m Hichigawa Mori. Unemployed thief?" Mori tried shyly, weakly trying to imitate his pose.
SeVen relaxed, holstered his guns then walked over to her.
"Unemployed thief hmm? Tell me, you any good at keeping records?"
"I’m pretty good at book-keeping..." Mori offered.
"Well, Mori Hichigawa, how about you keep my records as my accountant? I’m crap at keeping track of anything, and you have nothing better to do." SeVen scratched his non-existant beard.
Mori blinked twice, staring at him to see if he was being serious.
"What?" SeVen asked, unnerved by her silence.
"Are you being serious?"
"Yes..."
"I tried to rob you!"
"Yes, you sucked at it."
"And you don’t even know me."
"And you don’t know me, we’re even."
"And you want to HIRE me?!"
"That’s about right."
Mori couldn’t stop staring incrediously.
"So, what do you say, unemployed thief?" SeVen smirked again, his young face full of mischief.
Mori nodded silently. SeVen slapped a gloved hand on her shoulder.
"Alright! Accountant Mori, I suggest you get something you can’t live without, then we have to catch a train to France! Jetzt gehen wir! Gemeinsam!!"
"Huh?!"
"Aw, you don’t speak german. Suckage." SeVen looked vaguely upset, then pointed a finger towards the general South.
"I meant to say! Let’s go!"
Minutes later, Mori had packed her little belongings in her flat. Her new boss was waiting downstairs.

What kind of lunatic situation had she gotten herself into?

SeVen saved me

2008-11-29T21:55:04Z

We-ell!
At last, the emo blues have passed.
Truly, I love my imagination sometimes. Most of the times. Ah shucks, it rocks!
So, the last dregs of my emo-ness have been blown away, all thanks to a new figment of my imagination. His name is SeVen, he's an opportunist jack-of-all-trades, somewhat gender confused and the star of my new story.
Which is actually an original story, based around SeVen and his sidekick/accountant, who has yet to be named.
So, since this is my LJ and I can babble all I like since no one reads it anyway, here goes.
I've thought a lot more about SeVen than about his sidekick, but she only recently formed as an addition.

Basic Info:

Name: SeVen/Sieben (last name not known)
Age: Unknown, looks to be his in early twenties
Gender: Unknown. but presumed male
Race: Human(presumed)
Nationality: German/British
Occupation: Hitman, Thief, Jack-of-all-Trades
Favourite Food: Spicy Chicken/Ramen
Favourite Music: Metal/J-pop/Industrial
Favourite Book: Manga of all sorts
Favourite weapon: A pair of silver 9mm
Favourite Pastime: Sleeping, eating, reading manga, smoking
Known Associations: His (not so)trusty sidekick Hichigawa Mori
Quotes:
"Its a capital 'V'!!!!"
"If its not nailed down, its mine!"
"Do I look gay to you?...Don't answer that."

anyway!
He's a quirky, insane, gender confused (or is he? ID) but extremely good at what he does.
Mori is going to meet him by accident, discovering slowly more about her 'boss' who employs her simply because she shows potential for being a good thief as she tries to rob him ID

here's her info:

Name: Mori Hichigawa
Age: 19
Gender: female
Race: Human
Nationality: Japanese-British
Occupation: Thief, currently Accountant to SeVen
Favourite Food: Anything with Fish
Favourite Music: no interest in it
Favourite Book: Twilight Saga
Favourite Weapon: Throwing knifes
Favourite Pastime: Fantasizing and Yaoi-reading/watching
Known Associations: SeVen, Shizu Hichigawa(sister)
Quotes:
"SeVen-sama! Do we LOOK like we can afford that?!"
"I'm not his sidekick. I'm his ACCOUNTANT!"

Ahh, she's gonna be a bundle of fun.
Anyways, that's what I've decided so far for these two, the setting of the story will be the present, but of course, a few modifications regarding politics, supernatural etc will be made.
This story will include a lot of fanservice...especially since SeVen likes manga and Mori reads yaoi. heh.
As to her fantasizing, it is dirrrty stuff, and she will also be an extraordinary drunk XD
SeVen's sexuality is...well, whatever he feels like at the time. ID
anyways, gimme a comment if you have any interest, and i will send you the first chapter when i write it.

Emo post is emo

2008-11-24T14:44:17Z

Well...
Monday morning, and already I feel like crap.
Maybe because my weekend was over too quickly and epic or maybe because I realized just how much I have to do for RL...
Everything seems to be going downhill. And reality sucks so hard.
I live far away from my friends, I don't enough money for like ANYTHING, including Kitacon, so I will randomly invade Northampton at some point.
But yeah, looks like the UCAS thing is way too soon, and despite my parents' crack decision to make me do it, we'll be too late. Urgh. So, I have to save a good £1000 for moving out purposes...Plus Expo. I NEED expo, I can't stand not to go. Looks like I'll have to stop smoking for a long while...so I can afford Expo.
Urgh. There's a high possibility I won't be online a lot soon, since I've been incredibly stupid and have a huge lack of self-control, so I've been going behind the parents' back, which they can't stand. So yeh, this morning, I was looking for something onlne and was discovered and the modem confiscated. Great.
I'll apologize and jazz when I get home, but I don't know, I may have pushed too far.
Well, I suppose it will help me concentrate on coursework and stuff, but actually, I have lost the will to live, especially today.
I had a bizarre dream which involves...certain people that I should not be thinking about in that way...and then I woke up contemplating whether life is worth living.
That's not just a random emo statement, but actually has thought attached to it.
Firstly, what is the point? In order to have those wonderful but brief moments of joy (in cosplaying with friends) this boring and tedious and bullshit life has to be led. Has to have progress, has to have education in order to survive. I'm too lazy for a career, I have no ambition, just dreams and not the drive to pursue them.
If only I had pushover parents with money, I could laze around as long as I liked. I detest working hard and then having it scrutinized, and I detest having to put up with the idiotic masses of fucking ignorant bastards EVERY SINGLE DAY.
I know its like that for a lot of people, I know its a lot worse for some. I COULDN'T CARE LESS. I'm not sympathetic, I'm not compassionate, I'm not kind. Why should I be? It doesn't do me any good. I don't feel better when helping people. I simply regret that I get nothing out of it. I don't care about others' suffering, unless I caused it, in which case, it may be well deserved.
Call me cruel, call me cold.
Why should I care?
There is only this stupid herd morality, that defines "good" and "bad" as if they're ever that simple; they don't even exist. Stupid binary oppositions. Stupid people who follow them, who think they have the right to impose their pathetic ideas on others with all the power their little hands can grab.
What's wrong with greed, selfishness and arrogance? Nothing. Its the survival instinct of a human, to self-preserve.
I hate having to live this boring shitty life, with these tiny moments of joy, yet always knowing they will end, or be interrupted by this ridiculous play called life.
Soul Society, oh how I wish to be there.
Anyway.
emo aya out ¬.¬

Chapter 2 of story~Nur der regen weint am Grab

2008-11-20T10:37:29Z

Chapter 2 -Nur der Regen weint am Grab

("only the rain cries by the grave")

“Hitsugaya Ayazani was a great captain, she...”

The words of the speech washed over Toushiro, meaningless as the ceremony around him. Everything had become dull, bland, pointless, grey. His eyes were on the coffin in front of him. It couldn’t be real. It couldn’t be happening. How could he accept this?

Briefly, his glassy, teal eyes traveled to the headstone.

Hitsugaya.

His own name. The name he had given to his beloved, his wife.

Ayazani.

The name alone, it meant so much to him, too much to express in words. How could she truly be gone? His happiness, his world, it was all gone. Toushiro shuddered, repressing the desire to sob, to scream. Not here. Not in front of the others, and not in front of Shana.

He felt embarrassed by how’d she found him that night. Drunken beyond his normal, sane state of mind, his voice hoarse from sobbing, screaming and swearing, and his words filled with nothing but his own grief. He hadn’t even considered how hard it would be on Shana to lose her mother, and he’d been so useless as a father...To not even have the strength to comfort his own daughter.

He’d failed her completely. Firstly, to allow her mother to be taken from them, and secondly, to not even be able to control his own grief for their loss.

“Her defeat over Aizen was...”

More empty words.

What did it matter that Ayazani had saved Soul Society? She was gone. Everything was worthless now.

He gave himself another mental shake.

No. He only had one purpose now. To raise the child Ayazani had given him, the only piece of her he could still reach. It was his duty, his responsibility, and all that was left in his life.

Shana was the most important thing now, no one else, not Tenth Division, not his faithful fukutaichou, not even Seireitei could be more important to him than his daughter.

Another pang of guilt.

Had he even pushed Shana aside for Ayazani? Did they make their daughter feel not only over-shadowed and insignificant, but also unwanted? He had never given it too much thought, Ayazani would soothe his troubles with her reassuring presence, her gentle touch, her deep understanding of him. The pain seared through him sharply as he remembered the past fourteen years. Compared to how he felt right now, they were a happy haze. The wedding, the honeymoon, the year of pure bliss with his love. Then the excitement of the arrival of Shana, and the past thirteen years of raising her. And never, ever, had he felt more at peace than during time with his family. His very own, true, family. How could it have been broken so easily?

Toushiro’s eyes landed on the coffin once more.

It didn’t contain the body of his beloved wife, it had never been found. But the two Zanpaktous, they were undoubtedly hers. And, the only part of her body that had been found at the scene. Toushiro was still haunted by the vision, the dainty fingers he adored, the ring he’d given her at their wedding, the blood-drenched rags of the shinigami uniform wrapped around the torn bone. Her arm. Only her arm was in that coffin. It turned his stomach.

The vision still sickened Toushiro, and he’d awoken several times to empty his stomach the past few nights.

Shana didn’t know, and he had no intention of telling her.

The small spark of hope that had lit in him last night was extinct by now. There was...no possibility, no trace of her reiatsu, no sign that she was alive somewhere, alive and in pain, but alive nonetheless. No, Mayuri’s division had found nothing to feed his mad hope.

She was dead.

“May she rest in peace and always be remembered.”

Yamamoto had finished his speech, his voice strong and sincere, Seireitei was indebted to the dead captain. Her sudden death had shocked even him, and despite his disagreements with the woman, he felt a sense of loss.

The assembled captains and shinigami of fifth Division remained silent as the coffin was lowered into the ground, Toushiro standing by its side like he was about to follow it. The white flower in his hand fell slowly, like a snowflake in slow motion, to land on the dark wood, the white petals stark against the mahogany.

“Aya-chan...” Toushiro whispered, a couple of tears managing to escape his control, they rolled silently down his face as the sky darkened to a depressing grey.

Snow drifted down gently as a soft breeze froze the tears on Hitsugaya’s face.

Short Preview/Start to 4th story

2008-11-18T22:11:32Z

"Shana! Are you listening to me?!"

The outraged voice of the teacher barely reached Shana’s ears.

She blinked sleepily, her turquoise eyes full of disinterest as she ran a hand through her soft black hair. The student next to her giggled, Shana was not known for laziness, and this was an embarrassing moment of it.

"Hitsugaya Shana-san! Recite the passage we have just discussed!"

The teacher demanded, feeling irritated with the behaviour of his student. Her parents were both prodigies that went through academy at an unsurpassed rate, and so, everyone had great expectations of their child.

But Shana was average at best, none of parents’ supreme talents seemed to have passed onto her.
And she knew it. Every day, someone, somewhere around her, would comment on her inabilities, her shortcomings. She hated it. Every second, every word of it.

Of course, she wanted to be amazing like her parents. She wanted to be the amazing prodigy offspring of the two Hitsugaya-Taichous. But she was a failure.

She hated that about herself. But she’d learned to live with her reality, she wouldn’t live up to the name of Hitsugaya or Kurimatsu. Her parents would forever overshadow her.

Shana’s mind was far away as she listened to the lecture, and received the note to her parents without as much as a shrug. What would her parents do? Scold her? Hardly. They were very aware of how pressured Shana felt by their achievements, and through Shana’s playing it up; they were sensitive to the issue.

But maybe, if she was lucky, her father would take some time off work to teach her. Shana adored Toushiro; he had always been the more doting of her parents. Although he was just as harsh on punishments and restrictions as Ayazani, Shana was still a daddy’s girl.

Sometimes, Shana wished her mother would work even harder than what she was doing currently. Both Toushiro and Ayazani were hardly ever at home, their workload as Captains as rigorous and inflexible as before the initial maternity/paternity leave.
The problem for Shana wasn’t that her parents were bad parents, or too stressed, or anything like that. No, her problem was that they were still...a couple madly in love.

Whenever they had the chance of free time together, Shana felt pushed out of the picture, like she wasn’t needed, or wanted. The tenderness and intensity of the love between her parents was embarrassing to Shana, and she made sure to spend as little time as possible in the house when they were together.

Another thing about that she hated was the fact she could never, not even once, play the two against each other. It was like they had a psychic connection or something, not once did they doubt each other.
It was annoying, embarrassing, and most of all...it hurt. Shana wanted to spend time with her father, he paid attention, he loved her, he was just too...preoccupied with her mother.

The small rock that had been lying on the path was now angrily kicked aside by Shana’s foot. Another free day. She would see the lovey-dovey parents at dinner, then disappear to a friend’s for the night, she planned out mentally. Anger surged up further in her mind,

"I wish oka-san disappeared!"
she muttered to herself, starting up the small path to her home.

Something was off. Shana could tell straight away.
The atmosphere of the house seemed, gloomy, uninviting and dark.
Hesitantly, the young girl pushed open the screen door that led into the quiet house.

Oka-san? Oto-san?"
She called out, hoping they were just doing their usual and had forgotten to turn on the lights. Maybe they had gone out to dinner?
A groan from nearby alerted Shana to someone’s presence. She took a step into the kitchen, gently lighting the dark surrounding.
"Oto-san?"
Toushiro didn’t sit up; he stayed slumped, staring at the bottle of sake with an expression unknown to Shana. Anguish.
"Oto-san, what’s...going on?"
Shana questioned her father’s silence, his pose and his drinking. Toushiro never touched alcohol; it was only occasionally that he’d have a couple of drinks with his wife in the onsen.
"Shana-chan..." Toushiro croaked out, his voice hoarse as if he’d been screaming.
Shana came over to him, surprised when he pulled her into an embrace. She was even more shocked when he was holding back sobs as he spoke.
"It’s...your...mother. Shana-chan...She’s gone."
"What? Gone? Where?"
Shana asked with total confusion as Toushiro breathed heavily to regain control over his shaking voice.
"Your mother...Ayazani...is dead."

Bleach 334

2008-11-14T10:22:38Z

DAMN IT!!!
I owe Tite Kubo a slap!
ITS FUCKING MOMO.
Bitch. I hope she fucking dies. Stupid stupid bedwetting bitch. >.>
GO GO GO HITSUGAYA!!! I LOVE YOU!
DIE DIE DIE HINAMORI! I HATE YOU!
aya is done. XD

KHR meet and Bday coming up!

2008-11-11T14:35:57Z

Wehey! I have 15 minutes before class, so time for an update!
Milton Keynes was both horrid and awesome!
The journey (6 hours total) was hell, with failed systems and extra money and peoples! Oh yes, and Milton Keynes is a horrible place XD Expecially when you have to walk across it to find people and what not.
It was cold, rainy, windy...and yet I had an awesome time with people I LOVE!
Can't wait to see some of you guys on the 22nd, its going to be epic, longer, and mostly inside if we can manage ID
Manchester is good like that, but also a very crowded place, so we're gonna have to hunt around for locations and what not! I hope the weather doesn't PHAIL/
Also, someone needs to have a decent camera, since mine is crappy....and pretty much dead.
All must worship Emi, for she is amazing and will let me have hair again XD In case I don't find a Goku wig in time. This is bugging me, I'll ask mah folks to get me it for my actual bday which is the 4th of December.
Oh yes, and no one has to get me or prat anything for our bdays, we just love cosplaying with friends, thats enough of a gift!
-sniffs- I feel mushy now...I'm losing contact with my "real life" so much, and I don't mind. I wish I could just live in the cosplay-online-life-bubble foreverz..
Seriously, I love my friends, my online friends, my cosplay friends so much, you guys are my real friends <3
Mushy Goku is mushy. I blame Byaku-chan.
Hopefully, I can graduate, move out and get a job (also sharing a flat with Chrome ID) relatively soon, so I can focus on cosplaying for an entire year before University...
Anyways, I should go hand in this stupid german presentation now...So I'll see y'all soon.
~mushy aya

short update is short

2008-11-06T20:50:41Z

Well! FM thinks I should update...she's a monkey. Like Renji. lolz.
Well, I'm waiting for TUNA to return, so I will do as she says. Once.
Well, I was in a crummy mood all day, for no particular reason, but now Pablo Francisco is cheering me up. Yay for Comedians.
I got my dynamite finished, and it looks...crappy in my opinion, but I'll let others be the judge of that.
Can't wait til sunday, oh mai, it looks to be the highlight of my month...Except my bday meet is in two weeks ID
Also had a great idea for another story, which follows on from my Bleach fanfic...in which Ayazani is gonna die. Yeees...poor Hitsugaya. But I couldn't possibly bare to kill him off, so Ayazani gets it instead.
Anywhooo!
Epic bday is gonna be excellent, just have to suffer through tedious college work first...AHHH BACON!
Sorry. Nietzsche was a crazy dewd.
short update is short.

Life, College and Dynamite

2008-11-04T12:18:49Z

-yawns-
Well I've got another hour to kill until my next lesson, so I thought I'd update my LJ...I'm so tired right now, remind me that staying up until 3am in order to make Dynamite and sow pockets for it is a BAD idea. Bad Gokudera Cosplay. Keeping me up.
Arrgh, so my parents have decided to be n00bs and are NOT booking the coach ticket to Milton Keynes for me, despite my reassurance I'd pay them back before I even go.
Oh well. They said it should be alright if I buy the ticket on the day, about an hour before the coach leaves.
So, that means on Sunday, I have to be there at 8am in order to make it for 11.55 in Milton Keynes. Seriously. And once there, I have to wait for emi(GOD) to arrive with the Hayato(Allen, but shhh) wig, so no cosplay until we have Uni...Well, I'll be in cosplay anyway, since KHR is casual enough. Well it is in my case.
Soo...life...it sucks generally, with not enough time in the day to do anything, cosplay or work.
I have four research projects to do...Philosophy, I have to research Nietzsche's idea of Truth, Media, I must examine the export market of films of Japan and China, and view their progress in the mainstream western market. Oh yes, and I have to make a music video. Heh.
Film Studies...I have decided to look at the role the Samurai figure plays in Kurosawa Akira's movies, and the direct relationship to Japanese Traditions. AND I have to make a short film. With people I can't stand, who don't even understand the basics of Bleach. Yes the manga, not the cleaning product.
German. I'm doing two years in one, since I'm a native speaker, it should be a walk in the park, right?
Wrong. This park is a forest and it is full of hungry critters and poisonous plants. >.>
I have to pull together a presentation of the german film industry, and a roleplay. Seriously why?!
Plus I have shitloads of exams to take next year.
2 Philosophy
3 Film Studies
6 German
3 Media Studies
Yay.
And now my parents think its a good idea to decide, "hey, why don't you apply for University this year?" Despite my decision to do so next year, so I can focus on my studies this year. They preach on and on about how I don't engage myself with College Work, that I'm obsessed with Cosplay. Okay, that's true to an extent, but I seriously do study for College. I just don't like to announce it every time I do it.
I don't want to apply for University this year, so I will convince my tutor that I'm too buried in coursework to truly focus on it, and then he can tell my parents.
On top of my sweet college joys, I have to fight with the EMA people and my ex-employer, who seems to have forgotten that I no longer work there and should therefore get my p45 so I can claim my taxes back. And EMA are taking forever to process my contract, I really need that fucking money now. stupid system.
And another rant on my parents; they have the nerve to tell me that I should save my money for moving out next year. That's all fair enough, and I will work my ass off over the next months, but the thing that pisses me off; they expect me to spend big money on gifts for them. WTF? I don't earn a lot, I am trying to make due with what I have so I can follow the best hobby ever, and they have the nerve to ask me that? It gets me...grrr...

Onto happier things!
My writer's block is dissolving, the vidding urges are back, and the creativity in general is flowing back after the substantial summer block. Maybe its Expo's fault. Expo was just amazing, but it should last a week, not a weekend...
I'm finally getting on with "A little Piece of Heaven" which I'd feared had come to an early and undeserved benching.
I have a wondeful AMV idea for "Indestructible" by Disturbed for Gokudera...It fits him awesomely!

Ahh, okay, that's half an hour killed. I can't wait for Sunday, and I'll make sure tonight that I can indeed buy a ticket on the day for the coach. Its gonna be a nice relief to be out cosplaying with friends ^__^
Oh gods, my brolly is broken XD I shall make do with a hat and coat.
Now I'm hungry and more tired...sayonara

Pressured into Joining LJ

2008-11-02T17:09:22Z

Well...here I am...freshly imported from DA, I feel out of my comfort zone XD
Damn that seductive kufufufu that lead me here.
Well, to be honest, I was thinking of getting an LJ anyway, since I'd rather find a different community than my rabid(and sort of scary) fanbase on Fanfiction.net. Don't get me wrong, I love those guys, but to get constant reminders of "update update update" can get tiring.
Look at me, two minutes on LJ and already rambling. >.> sighs.
Ehem. Whey. I'm here.
Shiny buttons o.o
Make me click and type. I should be doing Research for Film, discussion on Kurosawa's representation of the Samurai as an icon of Japanese tradition? Seriously. Anyone?
Cannot even begin to tell you how much I want to be out of College, focusing on Cosplay instead...Gyah. I'm so looking forward to my gap year, its unreal...Hopefully I can find some Cosplayers to move in with..
And now I'm pondering which fic to post on here...hm...