100 Words

[electrumicity.livejournal.com]

Title: 100 Words
Fandom: apurgatorium, Gundam 00, Bleach, Metal Gear Solid
Rating: PG-13
Notes: Random collection of 100 word long Purg drabbles based on prompts we randomly came up with in chat. I think.



Cats:
It had always been terribly awkward for Kyrios to sleep in the same room as them. Since he was still a kitten, Allelujah insisted on keeping as much of an eye on him as possible, but having another living creature in the room during his and Lockon's nightly "activities" was a bit unnerving. Even if he wasn't human, one brief glimpse of shining eyes staring at him in the middle of the night when he was on his back, his legs up on Lockon's shoulders, was enough to make him blush around the feline for far too many days after.

Ring:
Hallelujah never took off the engagement ring, even when he was in control. Mostly, it was a matter of the simple fact that there was always the chance of losing it somewhere, and he didn't care for the inevitable bitchfit from princess and the manbitch if that happened. Each time that he looked at the metal band, he couldn't help but think of how pointless the entire sacrament was. Was there actually anyone who wasn't aware of how inseparable the two lovebirds were? Who needed jewelry and some pretty words to prove it? Really, thinking about his relationship with Grimmjow, bitemarks and bruises were all he personally needed to mark territory and claim the other as his forever.

Mental dismemberment or pain and anguish inflicted on others:
He hadn't thrown away the knife from that day, finding practicality more important than hiding from the past and simple facts of the matter. The blade told a gruesome story of gore and agonizing pain. Specks of brownish-red embedded into the metal caused him to feel the sticky wetness of blood soaking his clothing and covering his skin. The rough but still-sharp edges held the memory of it tearing through skin and muscle and organs alike, indiscriminating in its targets of destruction. Worst, however, was the reflection he saw in the weapon. Somehow, he was always able to see his gold eye peeking through his bangs, both irises visible; not Allelujah or Hallelujah, but some sort of creature that broke the wall between personalities and mended them into something else.

Lies:
Otacon still hadn't outright lied to Snake; half-truths and vague answers, maybe, but no blatant lies. He wanted to avoid for as long as possible the situation where he would finally have to come clean to his best friend as to their exact situation: they were from completely different times. His stomach grew tight with every glance sent his way, each suspicious question or odd look at a wrinkle on his face that the soldier swore he hadn't seen there back home just a few weeks ago. All Hal could do was pray that Snake didn't put the puzzle pieces together and ask him bluntly, face-to-face, why he looked so much older than him, because the scientist knew that he couldn't lie to him.

History:
One of the things Allelujah liked most about Purgatorium was that he could learn about the past in a way he never could back home. Textbooks and encyclopedias were one thing, but actually speaking to someone from centuries past was an experience he'd only be able to find in a place like this. Sitting around with Claire and talking about her time was always fascinating, as she both explained the details of the world she lived in and showed him some of the items found in Purgatorium that would have been dated around her time. The ringpops he liked, but her cell phone asking him if he wished his girlfriend was hot like it was something he could do without.

Pocky:
Why the familiar snack item was stashed somewhere in a corner of one of the food stores on the upper level, Otacon didn't know, but he sure as hell wasn't going to complain. The box was snagged and paid for by the smiling and whistling scientist, as the man was glad to find a little piece of home in a strange land. There had only been one box, however, so sharing it was all but out of the question...though maybe a few could go to his best friend. Several minutes and a discussion later, Otacon walked away with all his Pocky intact, yelling over his shoulder that it was not a stick with frosting on it.

Starless:
Purgatorium was his home. Allelujah not only accepted this but desired this, wanting to remain in the city for as long as he could; as dark and miserable as the place was, it still held more hope and promise for him than the future back home did. It didn't stop him, however, from feeling homesick. Being surrounded by a much more peaceful darkness and the twinkling of stars had always given him a particular type of inner peace that he was unable to find anywhere in Purgatorium, even on the upper level. He'd make the sacrifice, though, to keep the rest of what made him happy.

Promises:
Strength had become a tricky, complicated thing ever since he got to Purgatorium. Hallelujah was used to the controls of his Gundam, mind and body able to react perfectly and instinctively to nearly anything thrown at it, his piloting skills just as much an advantage as his mobile suit was. Finding himself thrust on-foot now, he still made do with the physical strength he had, further alterations giving him a handicap in battles he might otherwise lose. He had always considered himself strong, a superior being, but the city had slammed him in the face with just how small and weak he really was in comparison. Promising Grimmjow that he wouldn't let any bastard mess with him was one thing; actually being able to have the capability to do it was, he noted furiously, a complete other story.

jskjfklasjdlfk:
Grimmjow Jeagerjaques. Love him or hate him, Allelujah had to accept the fact that the arrancar was a very important part of his life. Anything that affected Hallelujah affected himself in ways, of course. Luckily, Allelujah had grown fond of the older man, despite their personal disagreements and different viewpoints on...nearly everything. He wasn't as bad a person as he had originally thought upon their first meeting, and more importantly, he made Hallelujah happy. It didn’t stop him, however, from wanting to find a way to kill the already dead sometimes. There were only so many times he could take being "accidently" groped because Grimmjow couldn't take the time to look at his hair before touching him, and the terminal nearest his room at the Celestial Being headquarters had its keys nearly broken from all the keysmashing Grimmjow's constant remarks caused.

Vertigo:
There wasn't a feeling in the world to compare to how he felt when piloting Kyrios. He wondered in the back of his mind, sometimes, if it was just because his body was modified specifically for such a task; still, it didn't matter to him in the end. While he hated having to use his Gundam for killing, he hadn't wanted to ever give up the rush that came with each jerk of the throttle and each pressed trigger, his entire being feeling as if it were melded with the mobile suit. He nearly always stayed focus, but there was a certain lightheaded feeling that came every so often in the midst of a tough battle; the vertigo, it felt, was in his mind rather than his body.