Tuesday, October 21, 2014
Disclaimer: I don’t own Gundam Wing
Note: This is not a Santa Clarita story, but one in a different timeline, that may have or have had some brush with the Santa Clarita timeline. And this chapter is a little short... oh man.
Standing in the hall, he was pretty sure it was just kids in the house. Killing them dead for interrupting his time with Heero seemed like overkill, but so tempting, nonetheless. Even the thought of life without Heero ruined the edges of Duo’s sense of self, gave instinct over to a much more dangerous and feral Shinigami.
He would not mind planting a group of cheerleaders if it gave Heero a better chance at life. They’d come back to Wyoming for privacy! Didn’t these kids have a better place to be?
Heero coughed though, then whispered his name and it was enough to draw him back into the room, silent and leary. Heero had his arm out, hand reaching for him, and Duo forgot all about the intruders.
He sank back down to crouch by his husband, violet eyes locked on the door to the bedroom where he’d set them up. He gone to great lengths to get them where they’d be safe and he could get Heero to take the ‘cure’.
Whoever was downstairs, their voices were muffled, but still young sounding, and uncomfortably familiar in ways that Duo couldn’t understand.
Heero, who was already moving better, laid a hand on Duo’s arm. “It’s probably just kids... It’s Halloween and we’re in a haunted house. If it was anything other than kids, you’d have us on the move already.” Heero smiled, light and energy in his blue eyes.
Duo clicked the safety back on, went to one knee and leaned closer. “How do you feel?” Duo holstered his weapon. Fingers brushed over Heero’s face, feeling more warmth than there had been. “Are you in pain?”
“Less than I was,” Heero said, his hand drawing Duo’s to his lips. Kisses traveled across his palm. “Why is this treatment illegal? Where did you get it?”
“Wow,” Duo said, snuggling a little closer, feeling more hope that this would work, that he wasn’t going to lose his husband, “You are feeling better!”
Heero winced as he sat up a bit more, a hand running over Duo’s hair, smoothing flyaways into the dark braid. “Whatever you did to get this, I trust you. We’re going to have to disappear, aren’t we?”
“Yeah,” Duo said, snuggling into Heero’s acceptance, his touch. “But you need to rest for at least twelve hours. This treatment can go... wrong... really wrong. You have to rest.”
A gun fired below them and a moment later a girl screamed, shrill and echo-y.
The softness in Duo was gone, his hand on the pistol he’d holstered. He glared at Heero, stern and worried. “You rest. We might be fucking by dawn, but you have to rest. Don’t move. Don’t get your heartrate up. Rest.”
Heero rolled his eyes, leaned back, other pistol in hand. He pointed to the unshuttered window. “I can control my heart rate. How about you?”
Where there had been night sky, there was now a swirling white mist pressing against the glass, moving as if unseen fingers trailed through it. Breath swirled against the second story window, like someone blowing on a frosted over window before rubbing the frost away. Duo’s hair stood on end and his free hand shot to the little metal cross under his tee-shirt. “Holy Mary, Mother of God.”
The fog jumped back. Footsteps ran across the roof and the room went chill as a hungry January. Whatever was interrupting them, it wasn’t just kids. Chapter One
Tuesday, October 14, 2014
Disclaimer: I don’t own Gundam Wing.
Note: This isn’t Santa Clarita story... I haven’t written much recently... It seems like the only love I really believe in is Duo and Heero. I also have a new job (at an actual aerospace manufacturing plant), so ... I’m just not meant to write full time. Maybe I’m meant to be an engineer. Maybe my Heero’s waiting in in anodizing.
This is a horror story...slasher style.. though it doesn’t start that way. :) Transhumanist themes.)
Heero leaned his head back against the headrest, thumb caressing lightly over the morphine control, not triggering it, just knowing that he could. The hum of the engine was almost just as comforting. After fifteen years of marriage to Duo Maxwell, his husband’s silence was just as loud as all the endless chatter had been and it too was comforting. In the passenger seat of Duo’s black Mustang, bound to wherever it was that Duo wanted to take them, he found it pleasant to think about being carried off into the peace by Shinigami in a black mustang.
“Hey,” Duo said, voice deeper and mellow. The faintest hint of silver was showing at his temples, though Heero thought that was early. They were only thirty-three. The wars were hard on a body though. “You okay?”
“Hai,” Heero said and he could hear Duo snarking in his head about how if one could count being days away from the terminal end of several kinds of cancer and knowing that your dumb fucking husband was going to follow you into the dark, no matter what you said and you just didn’t have the energy to yell anymore was okay then yeah, yeah you’re just fucking fine. “I’m fine. You’re hungry.”
“Hn,” Duo said. The direction of the car changed. The speed slowed. “We’re almost there. I have food in the back.”
Heero rolled a little in his reclined seat. reached out a hand to touch Duo’s arm and imagined a moment of better health, a kitchen table, and a joining of the physical that was a mirror and sub-chorus to the way each of the had written into the other’s mental being. He wanted to feel that way again though, even if it was the last thing he felt, the power and penetration and sweat on Duo’s body, the loss of control on that face as the wickedly cunning mind exceeded all bounds of control and was utterly open. “I want to fuck.”
The look of fear passed over Duo’s face so quickly, the held breath so short, and likely no one else would have perceived it, but to Heero it was a rip in his heart. “I used to be stronger.”
“Yeah, well, you will be again,” Duo promised.
Duo had developed a taste for lying, Heero thought, but that was okay with him. They’d had more life than some people ever had and more love too, and he wasn’t sure either of them really deserved it, but moments of their lives brushed over his drug disordered memory and it seemed that deserved or not, he liked the lives they’d had together. “You’ll lay next to me and masterbate?”
“Yeah,” Duo said, wink while they were at the stop light, licking his upper lip in a suggestive expression that a dead man would have responded too. “Fuck yeah.”
“So where we going?”
“Remember our first kiss?” Duo asked, his illegally fast car moving at a law abiding twenty-five.
“Yes,” Heero said. And he did. In the memory, Duo was so much smaller, more fragile and yet, so much more dangerous and feral then. Heero had gotten to the house by following a trail of Duo’s blood, cleaning the trail as he went. It wasn’t a safe thing to be doing and even then he’d doubted his own reason for doing so. He didn’t need the American for any strategic purposes. That long hair made it much harder for him to stay unrecognized and he got wildly violent when it was suggested that he just cut the shit. Granted, Wufei shouldn’t have reached for the braid. The American went off on his own too often, took on risky missions that he thought would help civilians, which in the end was probably only prolonging the conflict. If he bled out in some ratty house, it was probably better for everyone, yet, Heero could remember moving into that house, hoping that Duo wasn’t dead. When he finally found him, in a corner a scalpel between his teeth, forceps digging around in his own arm, blood across a shock pale face, Heero remembered wanting to kiss him - a completely irrational reaction to finding him still alive.
The kiss hadn’t actually happened for a few days after that, but that moment was when it started. “Are you going to get shot again,” he teased, brushing too slender fingers over Duo’s arm, feeling the hard muscle under the warm cotton of his shirt.
“Fuck’in hope not,” Duo said. “Not unless Q’s bleeding sister hunts me down for springing you from the hospital. I don’t think that’s a likely outcome.”
“Anything’s possible, as long as we’re alive,” Heero said. “I want yogurt.”
“Okay,” Duo said, reaching behind Heero’s seat to a cooler with easy open yogurt packs on chill. “So... I had this idea.”
Heero grunted, blue eyes still vivid and sharp as they stared at Duo while he sucked down his yogurt.
“Now, now don’t be that way. You haven’t heard it yet.”
“Sooooo... Pala... one of Q’s sisters... she’s a theoretical physicist.”
“She’s pretty. Do you like her?”
Duo made a half kind of strangling noise, glaring at Heero with the other eye still on the road going through the small little down. “You first, baby. You get all better and invite her over for a threesome. One, I think Q would do us bodily harm. He has a thing about his sister not fucking married men.”
“Well, a widower isn’t married.”
“Just. FUCK. You,” Duo hissed, “I’ll be married to you to the day I die. Now fucking listen to my idea.”
Duo reached back and pulled up two more. “So.... she’s working on time travel.”
“Well, shit does have its risks, but it’ll get worked out and so like... someone with better tech will come back from the future and get both of us. So you can get healthy and I can that targeting system out of my eye.”
“Why would anyone do that?”
“Because we ask them to. We’re going to write them a letter.”
“And like leave it on the internet for them to find?”
“Yeah. I know there will be good people who want to help.”
“If they were doing that, wouldn’t there be a lot of bodies that were never found? Wouldn’t that lead to the formation of some new religion?”
“No, no,” Duo said, speeding up as they exited the town. “So All they’ll do is take a scan.. and recreate us in the future.”
“So we’ll still die here?”
“But it’ll be like going to sleep. We’ll wake up.”
“I woke up when I accepted that I love you. When my neural processing stops, it will stop in the process of think about how much I love you and how happy being near you makes me, and if I can wake up on the other side of that with you, then everything is good. I want you to go on living. You live long enough to come back and get me, so you can tell me all about the new world.”
Duo laid his hand on Heero’s leg, just needing to connect. “Maybe we’ll run in to a vampire to turn us?”
“I think the first idea was a better idea. All stories end, Duo.”
Duo didn’t say anything else, but then they were pulling up behind what had once been a lovely three storey Victorian, but now all the bright had long since peeled away. Staring at it, their first kiss seemed like it was yesterday, like he could feel the elation of being accepted, desired, of having a future just as brightly in that moment as he had so many years before. He had lost track of Duo until his car door opened and Duo reached into undo his safety belt and lift him out. He rested against his husband, surprised at how much bigger and stronger Duo felt. He couldn’t imagine Duo ever succumbing to anything.
“Over the threshold,” Duo said playfully. “Lights on.”
A path of glowing rose petals lit up winding off to the bedroom they’d shared in the war days. Heero purred. Illogical romantic nonsense was something both of them had developed a near fetish for in the early days. Duo carried Heero into a room draped in satin and roses, lit by only a couple of strategically placed candles.
“Fuck, why didn’t we do this like six months ago,” Heero groaned.
“Oh I like that,” Duo said, setting him down on a special couch that was hospital grade to prevent any kind of pressure on his delicate body, while still being draped with silk. “Keep thinking about reasons to live, baby.” Duo said, smiling.
Heero rested his hands on Duo’s cheeks, then lifted towards him, but Duo met him more than half way, kissing and it was the taste of Heero as he’d always been, not the taste of various chemicals and medicines. Tongues touched, breath mixed, and if either of them had believed in a soul, theirs would have blended. Heero’s breath ran out though and Duo had a hand behind his head, laying him back against the couch designed to support him.
Kneeling beside him, he brushed bangs back and smiled adoringly. “So you don’t like my plan about waiting for the future to save us?”
“I will be very angry with you if you remain committed to killing yourself.”
“Oh yeah, well, so, I did have a backup plan,” Duo said, lifting Heero’s hand to his lips to kiss the back of skinny fingers, “But it’s kinda illegal as fuck and it’s not as safe as I’d like.”
“Hn,” Heero said. “Promise you won’t hurt yourself?”
“I promise to do what’s best for me,” Duo said, gently setting Heero’s hand down. “Now... the back up plan.” He pulled a small black box from under Heero’s couch and opened it, revealing two syringes. “Pretty ne?”
“So,” Duo said, closing the case again, “So, well, it’s... it’ll make us non-biological, but us still, but well, it works in rats and dogs.”
“What,” Heero asked, sitting up more, licking his lips. “Give me something to drink?”
Duo nodded, reached for a bottle of water that he had on a chill pouch, opened it and handed it to Heero, while still keeping hold of it enough that Heero could drink with it dropping. “It works fast and well, okay, I think we’ll still be us. We’re gonna look kinda gray, but uh, cosmetics...and we’ll be alive... forever.”
Heero leaned back, closed his eyes to let his breathing steady. “You are going to die when I die, aren’t you?”
“You understand that this does not please me and that you would go through a grief period and feel better. You could even love again.”
“I’ll take the shot, if you promise to wait six months, either way. If I die, you wait six months. If I live because of the shot, you wait six months to take yours.”
“Deal,” Duo agreed, opening the little box and pulling Heero’s syringe. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” Duo uncapped the syringe. He had experience finding Heero’s veins and a moment later the illegal and last ditch second plan was in his husband’s blood. “I don’t really want to die, baby. I just... I’m not going to lose you.”
“How long,” Heero asked, sitting back up and reaching out for the water bottle. “I feel.... intoxicated.”
“For your mass, about 3 hours. It shouldn’t be unpleasant. You are stoned. We cut it with some ‘sugar’.” Duo handed back the water bottle and Heero didn’t need help holding it.
“Give me your braid,” Heero demanded, his voice stronger.
Duo sank down to his ass, laying his head on Heero’s legs, as he tossed his braid up to him.
Heero took it, kissed the cinnamon scented hair, then tugged him closer. “If you break your word to me on the six months, you will remember how to believe in a soul because I will claw my way back from whatever afterlife to make sure you feel my displeasure.”
Duo shivered, a whisper of desire going to down his spine. “Oh Baby, tell me how it is.”
The sound of a car in the front of the house stole Duo’s attention though and he whispered, “Lights off.”
Heero froze as well, but it was Duo that pulled a pair of pistols from under the couch. He cocked Heero’s, making sure a round was chambered, then flicked off the safety. “Stay here.”
“Hn.” Heero leaned back, feeling just entirely too good, better than he had in months, and gods, Duo’s eyes were so beautiful. How did one get violet eyes?
Duo made sure his own pistol was ready before moving out into the hall. He’d already crossed pretty much all the lines civilized people could cross and then some. If they were going to get attacked, he’d give the attackers Shinigami.
Monday, September 29, 2014
Tuesday, September 23, 2014
|Arin and September|
Excerpt: To Love the Moon
by Faith Luna
All rights reserved, copyright 2014
A group of men on horses lined the the top of the hill. One of them held up a ball of fire in his hand and was dressed in robes with authentic looking red ink tribal tattoos across his face. The horses didn’t look like the nice friendly ones the cops rode on either. These were all black, shiny and sleek, blacker than the sky, and each of them moved with personality and intelligence, not even the slightest bit of boredom about them. The riders were the same, predator skin-to-bone with the kind of eager smiles that demon cats might wear.
The one in the center dismounted, moving easily, even though the armor he wore caught the light like metal and the horse’s shoulder was higher than his head. He pulled his helmet off, revealing hair redder and shinier than any hair she’d ever seen on a living being. Red markings swirled over his face as well, moving as he glared at her. For the first moment in a very long time she wondered if she really was sane. Maybe being alone had really eaten away all the reason she’d ever found. Reason or not, he was so fucking pretty.
He spoke, holding his hand out to her, speaking in that same rough language, though in his mouth it wasn’t rough so much as much more like Chaucer, melodic and charming.
Having a nervous breakdown was the obvious answer to this situation. She’d been walking home and seen a baby in the water and gone in after it and then... well... somehow she was just confabulating like crazy. “I don’t suppose you have a cell phone do you? My phone got wet when I went into the water and I seem to be having a bit of a psychotic break. Not that this is like being the worst outcome and you look fantastic, but uh, do you have a phone I could make a call with?”
He said something that sounded like he was talking to a spooked horse as he made his way down the slippery hill of mud. There wasn’t anyone like him at the call center. Boots to his knees, leather pants on his thighs that were worn to a soft competence, and he wore a belt around his hips, heavy with a blackened sword in its sheath. By the time her eyes had gone up his whole body, over powerful grace under battle scarred leather, he was well into her personal space. Mouth dry again, she looked up at him, gray eyes wide, and if he were an hallucination, she had to admit that her hallucinations had gotten much, much better.
A fine misty flame swirled in his breath, rolled over soft lips, like one’s breath might fog in the chill, but this smelled of cinnamon and held her attention so intensely that she didn’t even see his hand reach behind her head, though she felt those fingers slide into wet brown hair. Her own breath was heavy, misted, though it burned away as his mouth pressed to hers. He held her gently, but without question and his kiss breathed into her like fiery spirits, scotch, but cinnamon, and spread warmth through her, lifting her from the clinging mud, setting the strange night on fire and she didn’t care if he were an hallucination, as long as he never stopped kissing her.
Sunday, August 31, 2014
comic: Santa Clarita: War time: Death in a Pinch 5/5
Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing
Note: Wow.. this comic was really important to me. I hope you find it enjoyable :)
Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing
Note: Wow.. this comic was really important to me. I hope you find it enjoyable :)