animi mares

New Sailor Moon AU and Crossover Community

Thu, 08 Jan 2009 10:24:36 GMT

Well, I've been a sucker for Sailor Moon AUs and crossovers for quite some time, so decided it was about time we had a community dedicated to these specific genres.

Open membership, moderated by me, all AU and crossover fic: check out sailormoon_au.

♥ S.

Notice!

Sat, 13 Dec 2008 22:10:21 GMT

You might have noticed how my activity in this journal has gradually dropped. Mostly it's probably got to do with how roleplaying has taken over MY LIFE, but besides that - I also think, I've simply had this journal become too much fandom, too little me.

I could change that, simply by beginning to post about myself here, but... I think I need a more radical change to save my online LJ life. So I'm changing journal. Again, you might think, but I think this time is different from the one thousand other times I've created a new journal. First off, the new journal is not specifically original writing centred. There'll probably be original writing in it, but it's not what drives it. As of yet, I don't know what will fuel it - maybe nothing in particular, maybe everything. It's new and it's shiny and I'm free to do with it what I want.

Nevertheless, I post here to let those of you who still follow this journal know. I've already friended some of you with my new journal and you are free to friend back, if you feel that you'd like to get to know me ~~again~~ or maybe... start getting to know me for the first time. But if you do not wish to follow the new journal, for whatever reason (like: you know it's just another failed project on my behalf >_< I don't blame you), either just don't friend it, or if you can see that I've re-friended you, comment to this entry and tell me to leave you the heck alone. No hard feelings. It's important to choose your friends carefully, after all.

From now on this journal will be... if not entirely dead, then pretty dead. The major change with my new journal is that it will be fanfiction/fandom-related stuff free. There will be fandom rants, reviews of manga and anime, odd little thoughts from time to time, but no fanfiction. No icons/bases. Nothing like that. Any Sailor Moon fanfiction not in connection to my spiffy new AU universe (see josei_otokoyaku) will still be posted here (the same if I gain a new fandom, which, as we all know, happens to me often enough). Bases and icons - same.

So, this is your chance. If you think a goodbye is due, please comment! If I'm not going to see your name on my friends of list on my new journal, I'd always love to be able to thank you for the time we have enjoyed together. It might not seem like it, but you've all meant something to me while I've had this journal - I just feel that it's time to move on and I know I'm a bumpy ride that not everybody wants to try on twice.

Thank you. This journal has been very good to me.

~ S.

maleroleactress, maleroleactress, maleroleactress, maleroleactress, maleroleactress, maleroleactress, maleroleactress, maleroleactress, maleroleactress, maleroleactress, maleroleactress

Beautiful Happiness. Kanbe Miyuki tribute.

Fri, 24 Oct 2008 15:06:00 GMT

Title: Beautiful Happiness
Author: Es
Length: ~330 words
Author's Notes: So, today I stumbled across the encore to Last Dracul, more specifically La Soldier. It made my Miyuki-obsession return full force and with it, my sadness over her still recent death. I'm no good at AMVs and writing works better on my emotions anyway, so here you go. A little personal... piece of writing... on Kanbe Miyuki.
_____

Beautiful Happiness

a smile will always be in my heart
whenever I want to see you.
- Sailor Moon-tachi, Ginga no Sanctuary

What I remember most vividly is her smile. In my memory, she always had a smile on her face – that special kind of smile that emits warmth and tenderness, but could just as quickly turn silly and teasing and, no matter which, it was contagious. She was contagious.

She didn’t always smile, of course, because she was a talented actress and many scenes in the Sailor Moon musicals required tears, not laughter; sadness (fear) and not joy. Still, when I think about her, the first image that springs to mind is her smile. Not just any smile. That smile.

For the encore of Last Dracul, they sang La Soldier. They had to, didn’t they? As she’d said herself once (later), they wouldn’t be real Senshi without that particular song. Their theme. “From the way you look at me…” she sang, the camera zooming in on her face as the corners of her mouth quirked upwards. In a smile. That smile. The smile that seemed to embrace her solo, however vague and (probably) dumb that may sound.

She shone in that moment and it is how I want to remember her. Wearing her best smile.

Miyuki means “beautiful happiness” and to me, the name has become synonymous with her person. With her smile. Miyuki, beautiful happiness, can refer to nothing else but the way Kanbe Miyuki’s lips would curve, showing a bright glimpse of teeth only surpassed by the glint of pure life in her eyes.

I might never have known her, talked to her face to face, but I know her smile and I would recognise it anywhere. Even now, knowing that the chance I had of seeing it off-screen has disappeared with her, I bear her smile, that smile (the smile), within me. And, to me, it has become the very symbol of happiness.

Beautiful happiness.

Two Seiya-centred Drabbles

Tue, 14 Oct 2008 15:00:05 GMT

Title: Offstage
Author: MoonFighter
Fandom: Sailor Moon (anime-verse)
Characters: Seiya
Pairings: Unrequited Seiya/Usagi and some implied Fighter/Kakyuu
Rating: G
Word Count: ~360
Summary: He knows they're singing for their Princess, but just this once he'll sing for someone else as well.
Author's Notes: Basically my interpretation of Seiya's thoughts when he's standing on stage in episode 190, hoping that Usagi will be there to listen. Third person log from my Seiya application to polychromatic.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Takeuchi Naoko owns it all. I only play around a little.
_____

(Sailor Teleport to that other journal...)

Title: Transparent & Glasslike
Author: MoonFighter
Fandom: Sailor Moon (anime-verse)
Characters: Seiya
Pairings: Unrequited Seiya/Usagi-Fighter/Usagi and some implied Usagi/Mamoru
Rating: PG-13 for implied masturbation
Word Count: ~270
Summary: Fighter had never felt foreign in Seiya's body.
Author's Notes: Inspired by a TV programm I saw about a female-to-male transsexual in the UK, but actually I think this theme is pretty obvious when working with Seiya in anime canon.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Takeuchi Naoko owns it all. I only play around a little.
_____

(Sailor Teleport to that other journal again...)

... or Dream, Read or Dream fic

Sun, 05 Oct 2008 11:28:02 GMT

The madness continues. Since Read or Dream is a really funny manga, I tried catching the lightheartedness of it in this fic that involves a lot of Maggie, a lot of Michelle (and Michelle's breasts) and a little Anita to balance things out. Enjoy!

Title: ...or Dream
Author: animimares aka shoujo-ai no shijin
Fandom: Read or Dream
Characters: Maggie, Michelle, Anita, some not quite intended Maggie/Michelle if you squint.
Summary: Maggie's not afraid of thunder, she just doesn't like the idea of lying awake all by herself without a book for comfort.
Notes: LOL. Just... LOL.
____

... Or Dream
______________________

“Nee-san…” Maggie’s voice is hushed, trying not to disturb Michelle too much despite her original intention with being in her sister’s bedroom in the first place. To wake her up.

No reaction. Michelle doesn’t move a single inch. From this angle it might even look as if she isn’t breathing at all. From her open mouth saliva drips in neat little droplets onto the page she must have been reading right before falling asleep, little by little smearing out the letters as the pool of drool expands and becomes more of a lake.

“Nee-san,” Maggie tries again, this time raising her voice a fraction. As Michelle simply turns her head, smacking her lips contently when her cheek lands directly in the wet spot on her book, Maggie finds herself hoping that this is one of the titles they have an extra copy of. If not, Michelle will surely cause a scene come morning when finding her book ruined which again would start a chain reaction with Anita throwing a fit, tossing their books around, Michelle insisting on buying new ones and Anita consequently starting to kick things… most likely their book shelves – or Michelle. And Maggie would stand uselessly in the middle, trying to calm Anita down while still saving their personal library and bandage Michelle’s wounds.

The circle of doom gives her a headache.

Besides, she hasn’t been allowed to read this particular book yet, Michelle having insisted on keeping it to herself since buying it.

Outside, another flash of lightning slashes the skies, soon followed by a roar of thunder. Unable to finish the thought on the catastrophe of Michelle with a spit-slickened bookmark in her brand new, only twice-read-already copy of “Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows”, Maggie shudders.

Michelle needs to wake up. Or, more accurately, Maggie needs her to wake up. Now.

It isn’t because she’s afraid of thunder. Really, it’s not – at least, it wouldn’t be, if she had had a book she could get lost in. It’s just that she doesn’t like the idea of lying awake all by herself very much. Not in the middle of a storm.

Focusing on Michelle again, watching her as she sleeps with a peaceful, yet delighted expression on her face, Maggie takes a deep breath and mentally prepares for the difficult task of getting her self-installed big sister to awaken. Michelle likes sleeping, Maggie knows; she likes it a lot, often claiming that in Slumberland they never run out of money to spend on books and there’s no one yelling at her for emptying entire book stores.

For a moment, Maggie stops to consider why she can never have nice dreams like that. Usually she simply wakes up with the unnerving feeling that she’s just shown herself naked in front of a huge crowd… A slight warmth creeps into her cheeks at the recollection, but when a lightning bold tears through the darkness, heralding an explosion of sound that crashes in over them like a tsunami only a second or two afterwards, the blood is drained from her face altogether as she pales. Yelping, she makes an instant decision.

Michelle will most certainly forgive her if she finds her in her bed the next morning. For all Maggie knows, it might even help her not to mourn her drool-drenched book too dramatically.

Mostly out of habit, Maggie whispers an apologetic and slightly strained “please excuse me” before climbing into Michelle’s bed. As gently as she can muster, she attempts wrestling a corner of the duvet free from underneath Michelle’s lax body, only managing to get a lock of Michelle’s blonde hair stuck between the pages of the book she’s using for pillow.

Maggie can understand why Anita keeps insisting she’ll never make any friends. She’s so clumsy…

Uttering a not all too elegant grunt, Michelle stirs at last, blinking a couple of times against the dimness of the room. Eyeing Maggie, she raises her head, forced to stop mid-motion when the book tucks non-too-gently at her curls. Somewhat panicked, Maggie reaches out to help untangle the mess of wavy tresses and sticky pages.

“Maggie-chan,” Michelle slurs when she can actually lift her head to meet Maggie’s eyes, even though still half-asleep, she needn’t have bothered, “what are you doing?”

This time blushing crimson, Maggie is about to stand up and mumble her way out of the room, maybe adding a bow to it, just for the emphasis it would add to her show of utter shame, but at that moment the room lights up in a sickly, yellowish colour and a bang not wholly unlike that of a canon makes the glass panels in their windows vibrate. Without a second thought, Maggie scrambles up on Michelle’s bed, getting her feet tangled in the sheets and crashing head-first into her sister, knocking them both over.

She doesn’t care. Making a sound like a hurt animal, she hides her face in the crook of Michelle’s neck, using the eerie silence that always follows a lightning strike on catching her breath.

“Arara,” Michelle exclaims, her fingers grapping Maggie’s shoulders gently, as if to help her up.

“Nee-san, I -”About to start a long and stuttering explanation, Maggie feels herself being soothed by Michelle’s presence and stops before she can really get started. Letting her eyes come to a rest on the book that has almost been pushed out over the edge of the bed by her sudden movement, now balancing weakly on its spine, its pages wrinkled from their combined body weight, Maggie decides that admitting to her purpose of sneaking into Michelle’s bedroom is the easiest. It’s probably pretty obvious already.

“I don’t like thunder,” she mutters, the sentence quick, cutting Michelle off before she can make the same conclusion, but in much more embarrassing terms.

“So, you came to me, your own big sister, for a sense of safety and protection,” Michelle continues for her, sounding overly pleased. Maggie nods against Michelle’s shoulder, grateful – and a bit surprised – that Michelle isn’t blowing this out of proportions. She does that sometimes; getting a little carried away, often dragging Maggie with her, Anita following them down their stream of consciousness only to be able to shout at them for being irresponsible grown-ups and bad role models.

However, before Maggie has the time to express her appreciation, a pair of slender arms have moved around her waist, pulling her in against a soft body, most notably a pair of large breasts. With a thrilled squeal, Michelle squishes Maggie’s face in her cleavage, her breasts pushing on each side of Maggie’s face like particularly heavy airbags.

“Oh, Maggie-chan! See, that’s just the kind of sisterly trust I’d always expected to find in you. But it is the least I can do, of course – to help and guide you to overcome your fears and childhood traumas…”

Whatever else Michelle is saying drowns in pale skin as Maggie is pressed closer in against her big sister’s golden heart, getting her air supply exchanged for a mouthful of warm flesh. Eyes widening, Maggie wishes badly that Michelle would sleep in the leotard they use for battle… or a t-shit… or a bra… or just something… ANYTHING.

Struggling to breathe, Maggie idly wonders if they aren’t going to wake up Anita with this sudden ruckus. Not to mention the thunder that doesn’t seem to be ending anytime soon, the rain drumming in waterfalls against the window. At the sound, Maggie doesn’t know if she’s supposed to love or weep Michelle’s big heart and even bigger chest…

“Nee-san, please - ” Maggie mumbles without much luck, realising that breathing ever again belongs in one of those dreams she never has, but that Michelle experiences in spades. She might as well get used to it.

“You’re loud, you know,” Anita’s voice sounds from the doorway and Maggie tries desperately to turn her head, ending up with a crick in her neck and too close contact with one of Michelle’s nipples. The lights are turned on, leading to a rather significant pause as Anita takes in Maggie’s clumsy battle to get Michelle to loosen her grip, making Michelle’s hold on her more and more painful.

“Anita-chan,” Michelle greets the youngest member of their family happily, her tone surprised, “are you afraid of thunder as well? Come, let me soothe your unease with my motherly attitude…”

Right now, Maggie thinks, spluttering; oxygen is a luxury more valuable than all first editions of Hemingway in the world… and I can’t afford it. She feels like sobbing audibly, but the sounds are swallowed up by wobbling breasts. “Nee-san,” she coughs, flailing her arms helplessly once, then pressing them against Michelle’s thighs to try and push herself away from the other girl’s body. Quite fruitlessly, though she does make the rather unpleasant, albeit not shocking discovery that Michelle doesn’t sleep in panties either.

“Geez, why do I have to live with such perverts for sisters,” Anita growls, apparently getting tired of looking at Maggie’s uncomfortable position between Michelle’s breasts (and legs), taking pity on her awkward fight. “Mi-nee, you’re strangling her…”

Maggie thinks she could die from relief when Michelle finally lets go of her, dropping to her knees before letting herself fall, gracelessly, on her side. Michelle doesn’t pay her any mind, but turns to Anita with a slightly affronted look in her eyes, her lips smiling nevertheless. As they always do.

“What do you mean: perverts?” she asks, her voice rising an octave as she throws up her hands melodramatically, “we’re just expressing our deep sisterly devotion for each other. You could learn a lot from that, Anita-chan… right, Maggie-chan?”

“Hphhh…” Maggie responds, too busy drawing in big gulps of air to pay Michelle’s lecture of a pretty non-interested Anita any attention; even less so when the subject changes to what two sisters are supposed to be doing when sharing a bed…

Sometimes Maggie has to wonder for how long she’d survive living with Michelle if Anita wasn’t around. On the other hand, if it was just Michelle and her, she’d be allowed to read all the books she wanted, so at least she would die happy…

“You’re both perverts, but Mi-nee most so,” Anita insists coldly when Maggie returns to the living world again, feeling her little sister squeeze in between her and Michelle, “and now, budge over.” Anita sounds bored, but Maggie can tell that she’d like a share of that sisterly devotion Michelle is still fully occupied with praising.

Moving, Michelle catches sight of her book – or more importantly, what’s left of it, its crumbling pages making it look more like a stack of new-papers. Maggie already knows what’s coming…

“Oh no! Poor Harry Potter!”

Smiling slightly, Maggie grabs hold of Anita before she can attack Michelle who very predictably starts rambling about buying new copies as the first thing the following day. Locking her arms around the younger girl’s waist, much like Michelle had with her only moments before, she asks herself why her life always ends up feeling like a scene from a manga or even more like a silly dream. It’s kind of nice, though… like this. So she doesn’t mind too much.

It beats Michelle’s dreams about free books any day.

LINK, Maggie-fic

Fri, 03 Oct 2008 07:31:14 GMT

So, ever so slowly making ready to playing Maggie for polychromatic. Simply background development and character profile ficlet, but I actually like it a lot, even though I still don't think I've gotten Maggie's inner voice quite right. Getting there, though. Getting there.

Title: LINK
Author: animimares aka shoujo-ai no shijin
Fandom: R.O.D (Read or Dream Manga)
Characters: Maggie, some Anita and a few mentions of Michelle - sorry, K. I think I need an entire fic to be able to fully decribe their relationship.
Rating: Utterly G. No pairings in this one at all. O_o!
Author's Notes: It was meant to be a general fic about how Maggie grew from her initial thoughts on loneliness to the Maggie we experience in the manga, but really, it seems to have ended up being more of a moment in time fic with Maggie thinking back on herself after her little talk with Anita in the kitchen in chapter... eh... third or second to last. Don't have the manga with me.
_____

LINK

Maggie used to be alone.

It hadn’t been a conscious choice as such, but simply the natural result of how things were. Everything had set her apart from the others around her; her voice that was too dark, her tallness that made her hover somewhere far above everyone else (even the boys), her physical strength and not least her interests. And since it was just the way it was – and since Maggie didn’t mind the silence – she kept to herself and took her books with her.

Sometimes the girls in her class would try to get her involved in their dramatic one-, two- and three- (at times more) way crushes, but Maggie soon discovered that squeezing herself further into her narrow, dark corners kept them at bay. Even the most persistent ones of them got tired of having the front cover of yet another novel shoved in their smiling faces.

The best and truest love stories always took place in books anyway. At least if you asked Maggie. No one did, but she didn’t mind. “Gone With the Wind” was all the confirmation she needed.

...

Thus, Maggie stayed alone. Soon it became more of a habit than anything else and she started questioning if it could be different at all. Her books never seemed to come up with an answer, and seeing that they were the only ones she consulted, the question remained unanswered for a long, long time.

When her powers manifested themselves, driving another and maybe deeper wedge (superpowers never helped anyone fit in, she knew – just ask Clark Kent or Peter Parker) in between Maggie and other people, she thought she’d found the final response to her unvoiced inquiry. She was no more than 12 years old – bordering on 13 – and it looked like she was deemed to a life with only pigeons and cats for friends.

Wasn’t it Hemingway who’d said that cats were more honest creatures than most human beings? Maybe it wasn’t so bad…

Little Maggie Mui never got to finish that thought. The next morning Dokusensha had knocked on the door to her parents’ house, offering their daughter a home at their specially designed “facility”, containing everything necessary to deal successfully with Maggie’s “special needs”. Originally Maggie hadn’t wanted to go – she might not have any friends, but she still had her family, no matter how much they always commented on her being a weird, ungrateful child – but after one look on the contract promising her free access to their library (which was bigger than anything Maggie had ever laid eyes on before) and money to buy the titles she couldn’t find there, she gave in. Willingly.

Maggie’s greatest love affair had always been with books. They were the only friends she needed. They were the only objects of her exclusive devotion.

...

Dokusensha understood that Maggie was a bibliophile extraordinaire. A bookworm of the highest degree, and they accommodated to her needs. So she served them without thinking too long or hard about why all her questions concerning her, more and more frequent, missions were always answered in the same way: “You do not need to know in order to complete your work.” As long as they provided her with reading material, she continued to develop her Paper Mastery, quickly learning how to form and manipulate paper as she wished. As long as they kept the pay checks coming, Maggie did their dirty work – and she did it well.

Alone.

No one lived with her in the small Hong Kong apartment she’d been given. Maggie filled the place with books, manga and magazines and told herself it wasn’t lonely. For five years, she convinced herself that with books for company, the concept of being alone was deprived of meaning. Yes, when she had her books, the term “loneliness” ceased to exist altogether.

This brilliant conclusion didn’t manage to explain, however, why sometimes Maggie would set the table for two persons and form a familiar of a book she hadn’t even finished yet, remaining seated long after she’d eaten the last spoonful of her own only half-professional cooking – simply to stay in the sweet illusion of not being just by herself. The paper puppet never spoke, though. Characteristics like that were far above any of Maggie’s, admittedly, well-developed skills.

Luckily Maggie didn't mind the quietness (but she didn't like it either)...

...

Leaving the 12-year-old Anita King – and with her, Michelle Cheung as well – in Maggie’s care, led Maggie to the explanation neither her books nor her puppets had been able to give her. All it took was the emotionless voice of the sullen, pink-haired girl exclaiming: “Me too, I’m alone as well”, and Maggie realised – at that very moment – exactly what she’d been missing all along.

Family. Sisters. Not by blood, but by paper. By books. By spirit.

Maggie used to be alone. She used to read about true love in a lot of her books, understanding the words, but not what lay behind (some things cannot be captured on paper, Maggie knows – of all people, she knows). Now that she has experienced the real thing, she has discovered a devotion that goes beyond books. Yes, for this – to be able to keep her Paper Sisters safe and not let anyone take them away from her again – she would sacrifice every book in the entire world. It would hurt (and Michelle probably wouldn’t allow her to), but to save Anita – who reminds her of someone Maggie knows too well – from ever being alone again, Maggie could and would do it.

Because, despite being loud and hating books, Anita has shown Maggie that even though she used to be alone and might still feel alone from time to time, she isn’t.

Not anymore.

S.

Nostalgia

Thu, 25 Sep 2008 15:39:52 GMT

I'd completely forgotten the symbolism of this video.

Who's looking in and who's looking out? Who's free and who's not?

Geez, I feel 15 again.

Writer's Block: One Hit Wonder Day

Thu, 25 Sep 2008 15:29:02 GMT

Today's National One Hit Wonder Day. Whole albums or entire ouvres can be quite impressive, but more often than not, individual songs have the largest impact on us. Which one hit wonders have played a major role in your life?

View 501 Answers

All the Things She Said by TATU.

I guess this will be quite personal. But it's not like I have anything to hide, so why not...

I came out to my parents at the age of 15. At that point I'd been talking, for almost half a year, online and on the phone with a girl from Copenhagen who would later become my first girlfriend. Thinking back on that period, it was less difficult than it seemed at the time. I wasn't in the closet for... more than a year, I think, before deciding to tell my parents about my sexual orientation, but that one year did feel like an eternity. An eternity in hell at that.

Around those months, TATU hit the European charts with "All the Things She Said" and one day when I was home alone, I saw the music video for that same song on television. I don't think I can really express what emotions it awoke in me. Today I can say many less pleasant things about the manifactured lesbianism that soon became TATU's image, but back then it didn't matter to me whether they were fakes or not. The song and not least the video spoke to feelings in me that I recognised and hadn't seen expressed and thus openly embraced by others than the girl I was in love with.

I bought the single the next day. It was in March, only a couple a weeks before my birthday. For the next many days, I listened to that song non-stop, both the original Russian version and the adapted English one. I remember especially the evening before my 15-year's birthday - the day before I came out to my parents - where I'd locked the door to my room, closed the curtains and put out all the light in the room. Everything was darkness around me, but that song played on my CD-player. Again and again. On repeat. I even think it was the Russian version, so I didn't understand a single word, but I understood the feelings of it and the emotions it awoke in me.

To say that "All the Things She Said" was the entire reason I came out would probably be a bit too much, but it had a big impact on my decision on coming out and what can't be denied is that it helped me overcome my fear of rejection and hatred. I realised, by listening to and watching "All the Things She Said", that "I can try to pretend", but in the end pretending would only destroy all the beautiful things about how I felt.

~~And even today, having realised a lot of things about both TATU and the concept of that song, I still love it. I still think it's quite moving and a pretty nice listen.~~

Read or Dream or more exact: OMG MAGGIE I LOVE YOU SO MUCH, LET ME KISS YOUR PRETTY, BISHIE FACE

Thu, 18 Sep 2008 06:06:39 GMT

Read or Dream, vol. 1, chapter 5 and 6.

Wow. I've ever actually cried over manga before. Normally it takes voices, crying (especially a sobbing or numb-sounding Ogata Megumi) and... well, just audio. But these two chapters were so heart-wrenchingly well put-together and OMG SO SAD AND HAPPY AND YURI-ISH. I love Maggie so so so so so so so so so so x 700 much and Fay is just the cutest and I do hope the letter Maggie receives in vol. 4 is from her, because THAT KISS NEEDS TO HAPPEN.

Fanfiction coming right up.

No, seriously. I cried. Also the second time around. Maggie is my new favourite character. She's just wonderful. A lot like Rei from Marimite, but with Tatsuki-hair and cool Paper Master abilities. Yup, magical girl of the best kind.

The manga altogether was wonderful and entertaining. I really love the relationship between these three characters, Anita, Michelle and Maggie. Their background story is just so touching and I totally follow the bibliphilia theme going on.

Mmm, boooooks.

Maggie. *wistful sigh* You're too good to me.

I need Maggie icons.

NEED SONG PLZ

Mon, 08 Sep 2008 21:06:47 GMT

Ehm... I just listened to Ooki Risa's Haruka-song "Initial U" from the Stars season. Ogata Megumi didn't sing Haruka's theme-song from the series itself, because she was busy with Neon Genesis Evangelion (but later she did a cover of the song, Kaze ni Naru, which is gorgeous). However, I like Risa's voice a lot. It reminds me of a nice mix of Nao's and Megumi's. Not as hoarse as Megumi's singing voice, but not as... ehm... musical-ish as Nao's, though just as trained... yeah, just fierce.

So, now I kind of want the song. No, not kind of. I WANT IT!

Can someone send it to my email. My computer doesn't like it when I download from share-file-sites. >_< I REALLY WANT THIS SONG! PLZ, SOMEONE, SEND IT TO MY EMAIL, YES?

*falls to her knees and begs prettily*

Greenhouse Dancing Club icons

Fri, 22 Aug 2008 12:53:01 GMT

As promised. Greenhouse Dancing Club icons/bases. FIFTY of them. You may take them and edit them (colour, text and stuff) and no credit is due (but hey, I'd like a link to your icon post! I'd love to see these in colour and whatnot), as long as you remember to credit the mangaka. Takumi Fujita. Yeah, remember that (I'll have to go note his name with my own icons at tachi_no_futari as well, I guess).

Source: Lililicious
Credit: Takumi Fujita
Editing: animimares

[1-6]

[7-12]

[13-18]

[19-24]

[25-30]

[31-36]

[37-42]

[43-48]

[49-50]

Comments would always be nice!

~ S.

The Yuri Notebook

Wed, 20 Aug 2008 11:01:05 GMT

The Yuri Notebook, yuri_notebook, is ready for contributions and new members!!!

A community for authors and readers of original yuri fiction. Beta readers are welcomed as well. Please familiarize yourself with our rules before joining.

What will you find in this community?

- original yuri/shoujo-ai fiction
- animanga inspired stories

But what does that even mean?
Anime-and-manga/animanga inspired means that the story either takes place in an Asian environment/culture, has at least one Japanese/Asian character or otherwise has adopted the style of anime and manga in its writing and/or storyline. This doesn't mean that sci-fi/fantasy fiction isn't allowed. The more genres meet here, the merrier - but just any story about Jane who meets Eva and falls in love shouldn't be posted here. Original non-animanga-inspired femslash can eventually be taken to ah_gayfiction. However, it's left to the author's discretion to decide what counts as animanga-inspired and what doesn't, so onegai shimasu: post away!

- stories that are mainly girl/girl

What about yaoi and het, then?
Yaoi and het are both allowed, but should not be featured as the main element.

- a monthly challenge to inspire the authors to get those pink pencils working
- a monthly nomination of a story for "Fic of the Month"
- a place to discuss and ask about yuri as a genre and issues in concern with writing original yuri
- a place to get feedback and meet fellow original yuri enthusiasts

Guh, the profile took me, like, more than a day to finish! O_o! So much colour and pictures and stuff... but I'm pretty satisfied now. Anyone of you who can see something missing? Or have any comments on the rules?

Banner by shintsuu.

Haruka/Michiru, AU-fic, In Pairs

Tue, 19 Aug 2008 15:57:06 GMT

Fanfiction. Written some time ago. Probably the last fanfiction I'll write in a while, trying as I am to dedicate myself to original fiction. But I wanted to share this. I think the concept works very well, even though it's very short. Inspired by the movie Hancock, explanation in the author's notes. I don't think the fic will make much sense unless you read those.

Title: In Pairs
Author: shoujo-ai no shijin
Fandom: Sailor Moon (anime)
Pairing(s): Uranus/Neptune, Pluto/Saturn, Jupiter/Mercury, Mars/Venus, Serenity/Endymion aka Moon/Tux.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 990
Summary: We were made in pairs, Uranus. We are drawn to each other, because we were created as to be together. When joined, we are given the chance of happiness, of normality. Yet, with that life comes mortality. Apart, we are invincible. Together, we are dying.
Genre: AU
Author's Notes: In the movie, Hancock, the two super heroes are actually some kind of deities, with invincible powers - when apart. But because the deities were created in pairs, they'll always be drawn to each other, but as long as they are together, their powers will disappear and the possibility of dying becomes reality. I took this principle and shoved it down over the Senshi's heads. The Senshi were deities of their respective spheres, created in pairs. Now, throughout time they had to make the painful choice of either staying together and be happy or letting each other go and be able to fulfill their mission as Senshi.
_____

We were made in pairs, Uranus.

Saturn and Pluto. Jupiter and Mercury. Mars and Venus. Moon and Earth.

You and me... Uranus and Neptune.

---

Silver Millennium

“The Princess will not see reason. She refuses to let her Pair go.” Pluto’s voice is matter of fact. Long ago, Saturn was put to sleep for Pluto to hold on to her control of time. An eternal kingdom will not last, unless there is a Goddess of Time – one who stands on the sideline, knowing everything. Because Saturn was her Half, Pluto would have to let her go... to fulfill her mission. So she did.

Neptune admires her will, secretly praises her strength. But behind the emotionless iron mask that Pluto wears, the Goddess of the Ocean is also the first to recognise the other woman’s loneliness. Her sacrifice has been devastating. The powers it gained her might be great, but so is her sadness.

“Then we have no choice, I guess,” Uranus replies next to her, her blue eyes searching the heavens above them. For an answer she will never be given. Neptune knows what is coming. They’ve discussed this many times since they found out that they were each other’s Pair. Pluto made the choice a long time ago and Saturn has been asleep ever since. Now... now it is their turn.

“If the Princess chooses mortality, we will choose immortality. Her safety is our prime concern,” Pluto continues Uranus’ sentence. For a long time, the two of them – Uranus and her, Uranus and Neptune – have postponed this final decision. Around them, others made their choice. First Pluto and Saturn, then the Inners as to protect their Princess; to give her the freedom they themselves could not have.

Now the turn has come to them. To her.

Neptune must return to her destined life as a Goddess. A Senshi. Her supernatural strength and abilities, her inability to die - if the Moon Princess chooses to stay with her Pair, Neptune will need both, for to Serenity herself those abilities have been lost. However, if Neptune really wants those powers... it means saying goodbye. To Uranus. To everything she’s put her faith in until now.

Uranus looks at her. They exchange no words. Words aren’t necessary. What they needed to say, has already been said. Many times. Whispered and moaned.

“We have made our choice,” Neptune tells Pluto who nods. She probably already knew. She always does. “I will move to Triton Castle.”

“We’ll join the Senshi ranks,” Uranus confirms when Pluto’s all-knowing, garnet-red eyes shift to her. Silence follows. The silence of the sleeping Saturn. The silence of Pluto’s past, the silence of Neptune’s future.

---

We were made in pairs. For balance. For normality. For a chance of happiness.

When we’re too close, we lose our powers. We’ll be nothing but Haruka and Michiru.

And we might be free, like that... but in this form, we are also mortals.

---

Tokyo, 1997

They stand. Next to each other. Almost touching.

Galaxia laughs as she sees that their powers are fleeing. Great gaps that would not have been there the day before mar Neptune’s and Uranus’ skin, cutting river-like red welts up the former Ocean Goddess’ thigh and down the former Sky Goddess’ back. Yesterday, they would have had the power to stop her. She would have been no threat.

However. Over night, they abandoned their borders. They ignored their responsibility. They let themselves be drawn to each other, as they were originally designed to be, but had previously chosen not to.

Neptune knows she should regret. She doesn’t. Though Haruka’s fingers might have deprived her of immortality, it gave her a sense of purpose. Of love. For the first time since the days of the Silver Millennium, Michiru understood – deep within her, in the part that was, is and will always be Neptune – why Sailor Moon would have chosen mortality.

In the moment Haruka’s fingertips brushed down her throat; the second Haruka’s lips touched hers... Michiru knew that, in return of this feeling of being whole, immortality was a meek trait to give up on. For the chance of feeling that connection again, feeling her soul being swept clean by Haruka’s presence, she would rather die a thousand times than live on without it.

And now... Now it is their Princess that has let her Half go... to give them the freedom of choosing for themselves. Like they did for her before the birth of this era. Behind them, Sailor Moon’s cries of pain as Tuxedo Kamen slowly vanishes in a shower of golden sparkles echo. Neptune regrets that the girl, young and innocent as she is, will have to experience such pain, but she cannot regret allowing herself the freedom which that same choice grants her.

“This is it, isn’t it?” Uranus asks, turning her head and meeting Neptune’s eyes.

“It is,” Neptune feels her voice grow fainter. Their time is running out. So are their lives.

Silence. Once more the silence of what they have missed comes between them. This time, Neptune will not allow it. She lived a millenium with this silence and she will not bear it any longer.

“Haruka,” she continues, saying the name softly and with love, “I... I want to touch you.”

Falling to her knees, her being dissolving a tiny bit for every second, Uranus twists her body until they are lying face to face. She is smiling. That tender, secret and yet so very arrogant smile that Neptune... no, Michiru... knows so well. Loves, as well.

They reach out at the same time, their fingers interlacing as easily as if they’d done it a hundred times before. They haven’t, but it doesn’t matter. Not anymore.

---

We were made in pairs, Haruka. You can feel that, ne? That when alone, we are not whole?

Yet, when finally joined... we are slowly dying.

But, at least... we die together.

As we were meant to.

~ S.

Okay, so shoot me...

Sat, 26 Jul 2008 11:17:24 GMT

Title: What Love Doesn't Solve
Fandom: Sailor Moon
Pairing(s): Haruka/Mamoru, Michiru/Elza, one-sided Michiru/Haruka, Mamoru/Usagi
Genre: Alternate Reality, somewhat a parallel to the S season and yet... not.
Rating: Light PG-13. For mention of kissing.
Summary: She knows what they say about her. About her and Michiru. It's not true, so she doesn't mind. After she meets him, however, she stops caring altogether.
Prompt: sm_monthly's July 23 prompt: If Only Haruka Had Been Straight.
Notes: I can't believe I did this to my beloved Haruka. But it was wonderful to write. I quite enjoyed the flow and feeling of this fic. Very emotional and harsh. ~~And het...~~
_____

He caught her eye, even before she knew who he really was.

~*~

He is taller than her.

It’s the fist thing she notices, because it doesn’t happen all that often. She’s got used to the fact that everybody is shorter than her. The boys as well. To meet people’s eyes, she always has to look down. It’s just the way it is.

Not with him, though.

When meeting his fleeting gaze, she actually has to tilt her head upwards. Just a little. It’s a fresh feeling. Curious and unfamiliar to her. It makes her smile, crookedly, but he doesn’t return the gesture, his attention already elsewhere.

Letting her eyes stray upwards, Haruka can’t help but compare herself to him. Their hair is almost the same length, but besides that they have no traits in common. At all. He is the epitome of “normal”. Black hair, dark eyes and a uniform that matches his sex. Haruka… Haruka is his opposite in every possible way. Her blond hair is in stark contrast to his and so is her greyish-blue eyes, not to mention her use of the masculine pronoun that confuse people into mistaking her for someone she’s not.

In more ways than one…

Not sparing her another glance to return her penetrating stare, he walks past her, heading for a small cluster of girls near the entrance of the academy. She follows him with her gaze, eyes narrowing.

There’s something about him… but she can’t pinpoint it exactly. All she knows for sure is that he probably fancies the same kind of bikes she does. To him, speed isn’t intimidating, though he isn’t addicted to it like Haruka is. He awakens her sense of adventure, of exploration. And she likes it.

She feels a small smirk edge its way onto her lips.

“Haruka?” Michiru’s question is as soft as her element. With an underlying current of sharpness.

Just like Haruka, Michiru is often mistaken for someone else. Someone she’s not. Someone she has no desire of becoming. It’s what binds them together. Not just as Uranus and Neptune, but as Haruka and Michiru as well.

“Who’s he?” Haruka asks as casually as she can manage, nodding nonchalantly in the direction of the boy that is everything she isn’t and yet similar to her.

“Chiba Mamoru,” Michiru answers after a moment of silent observation (of Haruka and Mamoru alike). In the gentle pause following the name and the lack of a teasing smile on Michiru’s face, Haruka feels the foreboding of news she won’t like.

“He was a prince in his former life,” the aquamarine-haired girl continues and her voice carries the air of finality, “the Prince of the Earth, Haruka.”

Michiru is watching her out the corner of her eye, Haruka can tell. Expecting a reaction that she knows Haruka doesn’t want to show her. Matters of the heart have always been private to her.

But Michiru knows her too well at this point. She knows anyway. She can tell the truth.

“I see,” Haruka replies, carefully controlled.

It’s a shame, but he’ll only be in her way.

~*~

She knows what they say about her. About them.

She doesn’t mind.

~*~

“How do I look?”

Looking up from her racing magazine, Haruka grants Michiru the attention she is requesting.

A simple, yet elegant dress clings to her forms, as if sprayed on. Dressed like that, it’s not difficult to guess at why most of the boys at the academy hope that Michiru will return their interest, even if just for the fragment of a second. It’s even easier to figure out why Haruka is envied the hardly-concealed interest the violinist shows her.

Not that it’s her they should be worrying about…

At her lingering gaze, Michiru cocks her head slightly, her eyes sparkling from held-back laughter.

“Pretty,” Haruka replies carelessly, emphasizing her seeming lack of approval with a shrug of her shoulder as she picks up her magazine once more, “as always, Michiru.”

“Ara,” Michiru purses her lips and walks over to Haruka, stopping next to the windowsill and pushing a couple of curly tresses behind her right ear, “that’s not much of a compliment, Haruka.”

“Gomen,” Haruka apologises, feeling her lips quirk in a smile at Michiru’s obvious playfulness. Her eyes are fixed on the pictures in front of her, but she knows that Michiru is aware that she’s not really seeing them, “but someone told me once that being a gentleman would intimidate the boys.”

Michiru’s own words exactly.

A hand comes to rest on her bare shoulder as Michiru leans in to press a soft kiss to her temple.

“We can’t have that, now, can we?” the other girl muses quietly, her lips remaining pressed against Haruka’s skin for a second longer than strictly necessary. Haruka allows it, but turns her head after a moment to send a knowing smirk Michiru’s way.

People assume they are lovers. Michiru and her. Michiru and Haruka. They’re not, but only because Haruka doesn’t swing that way.

Sometimes, though… for Michiru’s sake… in situations like this, when Michiru’s defences go down, exposing just a glint of her true feelings, Haruka almost wishes that she did.

The intensity of the love in those blue eyes would make many shy away, but not Haruka. She is not afraid of any kind of power, not even when it’s so clearly directed at her. However, in this particular case, she can’t reach out either. She must stay true to herself. It’s one of her most charming traits – so Michiru herself has claimed.

Visibly pulling herself together, Michiru steps back, smiling with only the slightest hint of bitterness.

“Maa,” she says, grabbing her purse as she heads for the door (almost fleeing). “I’m going to be late for my date with Elza.” Her eyes don’t emit the warmth in her voice and Haruka feels sorry for her, despite knowing that Michiru would hate her if she knew. Because Michiru hates feeling demeaned. She’d rather be faced with hatred and anger than pity.

As long as there’s a choice, pity is patronizing, she’d told Haruka once when they’d discussed the subject. Haruka understands her, but… in this, Michiru doesn’t have any more of a choice than Haruka does.

Raising one eyebrow at the mention of the pink-haired runner’s name, Haruka calls after her, allowing a confident smirk onto her lips: “I won’t wait up then…”

Giving her an only half-scolding look over one shoulder, Michiru chuckles at the comment – exactly as Haruka wanted her to. “Jealous?” she questions as she buckles her sandals, eyes shining out at Haruka through waves of bluish green.

“Maybe.”

Throwing insinuations and scarcely concealed mockery back and forth between them is territory they both know and feel safe in. It’s a game both of them have become extremely good at after the first time Haruka transformed into Uranus and Neptune made the fatal mistake of kissing her.

“Why don’t you and Mamoru-san join us then?”

The words are followed by a light giggle. Almost laughing herself, it takes Haruka a minute to grasp all the implications of the innocent comment and when she does it’s too late.

“Oi!” she protests, but the door has already fallen shut.

~*~

Even when knowing the truth, she couldn’t – wouldn’t – avert her gaze from him.

~*~

Haruka watches him from the shadows as he makes his way from building to building, the leaps too long to not reveal the inhumanity of his powers. Her fuku and her tiara give her the same anonymity that his cape and mask grant him, but she recognises him despite of it. Tuxedo Kamen is Chiba Mamoru, once upon a time prince of this Earth that it has become her mission to protect.

She knows he’ll probably recognise her true self as well, if she were to show herself in this form.

Mamoru-san comes to a halt at the edge of one of the tall office-buildings, his cape billowing in the wind as his eyes, hidden behind the white mask, scan his surroundings. Almost without a sound, she moves nearer to him, all the time letting the dimness caused by the curious absence of the moon shelter her from his gaze.

There’s something stoic about him. Stoic and proud, yet his light is almost as soft as that of the Princess’. Golden. Similar to her own shine. One more thing they have in common – besides the length of their hair.

Catching herself before the sound exposes her, Haruka almost snorts.

“You can come out,” his voice suddenly sounds, easily carried by the wind as it rushes over the flat roof of the building. It’s dark and mature – notably masculine in an entirely different way from her own husky one, but apparently she is the only one to appreciate the difference. “I know you’re there.”

“I’m impressed,” Haruka says, an arrogant smirk telling Mamoru-san otherwise as he turns around, the wild breeze tearing at his uniform as it rushes towards its mistress, not putting her skirt in disarray. Folding her arms over her chest, she comes face to face with him. Finally.

“It’s dangerous out here,” he informs her patiently, not rising to the bait, “and you’re alone.” From behind a cloud, the foggy glow of the moon breaks through, casting his features in light. This close she notices that his eyes are blue, a couple of notes darker than her own – almost black.

“I can take care of myself.” Haruka shrugs, slowly wielding the Space Sword, not meaning for it to be a threat. His eyes narrow for just a split-second at the sight, but he remains where he is – a couple of feet away from her. Still out of reach. Relaxed, but alert. Just like she is.

“Then you should join forces with us,” he says, his head tilting a mere fraction to one side, eyes softening as he perceives her, suddenly in a new light. The light of possibility. “You and Neptune.”

Feeling irritated with herself for the slight blush that creeps into her cheeks at his intense study of her, she holds her head high, gaze hardening against his soft demeanour. Even if she wants to – wants to join him (them, but mostly him) in this battle, it is not an opportunity that is open to her. His Princess will only ruin everything with her and her Senshi’s silly war games.

“This is our fight,” she bites out through gritted teeth, turning her face towards the moon, hanging like a white pearl between the dark clouds that promise thunder at some point in the near future. She wants to look at him, to meet his eyes and take in this unexplainable gentleness that’s clearly there behind every mask he wears. She doesn’t understand it but for some reason she craves it. Craves him. “Do you really think she’s strong enough to win the battle this time around?”

“Do not underestimate Sailor Moon,” he warns, his voice deepening at his displeasure.

Tightening her grip on the handle of her sword, Haruka turns her attention back to him, raising both eyebrows scornfully. Soundlessly his cane appears in his hand and suddenly they are not possible comrades, but rather possible enemies.

No matter how much she wants to, Haruka has become too much of a soldier to believe that love can solve everything. When it comes to the workings of war, Neptune has taught her to trust more in Uranus’ instinct than in Haruka’s heart. It’s the only way she knows of, to protect what she holds dear and, although Mamoru-san might draw her to him with his beliefs, she is not sure his way will be the victorious one.

“We should not be fighting.” He makes ready to attack.

We shouldn’t, she agrees in her mind, but her body mirrors his.

The Space Sword glows red in the light of the moon. The same shade of red as fresh blood.

Haruka is not an innocent like Tsukino Usagi and that’s maybe what will always come between them, she knows.

~*~

She knows what they’re saying about her.

They’re wrong.

~*~

The five Inner Senshi are gathered on the street far below them with Tuxedo Kamen in the background. Always in the background. Next to Uranus, Neptune is wordlessly examining the Pure Heart Crystal of some nameless girl.

Haruka can already feel that it’s another blank.

“It’s not this one either,” Michiru says just as Haruka had expected her to, straightening up and giving Uranus a sideway glance, realising that her attention is not on her partner in crime, but somewhere else. On someone else. Someone else entirely.

Mamoru-san meets Haruka’s eyes and she acknowledges him with a nod that he returns. Unnoticed by the rest. On her tongue, she can still taste his lips; in the tingle of her fingertips, she can still sense his struggle against her hold on his chin. Maybe it wasn’t right to force it, but Haruka has never been one to care much for what is right and what is not.

She had needed to know… and only by attacking had he allowed her close enough to touch.

No harm done. The Princess knows nothing and they probably both prefer that it stays that way. It isn’t like it will ever happen again.

“Onegai,” Sailor Moon shouts at them, her odango dancing in the wind that picks up speed as Haruka takes the Crystal out of Michiru’s hands, not meeting the Ocean Senshi’s questioning gaze. Haruka can’t help but despise Usagi for being so gentle, so innocent – for being everything she can’t (won’t) be and everything he wants. “She’ll die without her Pure Heart Crystal!”

Releasing the Pure Heart, she lets the winds carry it down to the small group, landing it safely in gloved hands. Not Moon’s, however.

Tuxedo Kamen’s.

After all, Haruka has never been one to let a grudge come in the way of her mission.

His eyes widen a fraction in surprise and she smirks. “It’s not what we’re looking for,” she tells him, offhandedly. “You can have it. Return it safely.” The gaze that travels between them is anything but. It’s pointed. Risky. Very much so.

Michiru has already turned on her heel to head for the alleyway on the other side of the building they’re standing on. Haruka will eventually have to follow, because her mission doesn’t include him. Tuxedo Kamen… Chiba Mamoru. That’s the choice she’s made. The choice the little blonde Princess and her future husband have made for her.

“Uranus?” Neptune calls and Haruka faces her, knowing what will come. However, as a voice speaks from behind, she pauses. Saved by the bell.

“Arigato.”

It’s not Sailor Moon’s voice. It’s darker, more masculine – and holds many unsaid emotions hidden behind a mask of stoic white. Haruka smiles crookedly, much like she did the first time she noticed him. In so many ways they are opposites. In even more ways they’re not.

Without answering, she flash-steps off the building, Michiru following closely behind.

“Maa,” the other girl laughs when they’re alone in the alleyway, their matching fuku slowly dissolving and being replaced by their regular clothing. “What kind of whim was that, Haruka?”

“It’s nothing,” Haruka dismisses her, but the way Michiru’s knowing smirk lingers on her lips tells her that she doesn’t believe her for a second.

People might believe that she’s dating Kaioh Michiru. It’s not true. Haruka loves Michiru and would rather die than hurt her more than she already has. Still they’ll never be anything but comrades. Probably in the best interest of the both of them… when all comes down to it.

And Michiru might think that there’s something going on between Haruka and Chiba Mamoru. Yet, it’s not true. There’s something about Mamoru-san that makes Haruka want him, but in the end she’ll never be anything but a protector of the world he reigned once and will reign again.

Even though it’s not nearly enough, it’s all she can have, so however much she hates settling for the second best, she resigns herself to knowing her place.

If nothing else, it makes it easier to understand why Michiru, no matter how strong she is, sometimes oversteps her bounds, because just this once – Haruka did the same.

He insisted that love can solve everything. Did Mamoru-san. Knowing better, Haruka proved him wrong.

~*~

But… it doesn’t matter.

Enjoy!

~ S.

Writer's Block: Cramming Yourself into a Sentence

Mon, 21 Jul 2008 15:30:52 GMT

Try to describe yourself in one sentence.

View 501 Answers

I turn on the TV, select my favourite series and simply watch, for hours, almost without blinking; because I like escaping, escaping this reality that is so dreadfully boring in comparison to the lives of my favourite characters - that's why I like them, they live lives I never could, lives I'm allowed to peep into, so I do, but only to realise that no matter for how long I watch, their lives will not be mine and I will eventually have to return to my own reality (and the funny thing is, of course, that whenever I do, it's never as bad as I thought it would be).

Yuri/Femslash writers, unite!

Sat, 28 Jun 2008 09:22:12 GMT

I don't know how I've been able to overlook this, but... there's going to be an International Day of Femmeslash on the 19th of July! Isn't that just great? To read up on the details, go to: http://www.femslashday.com/wiki/Main_Page

Well, I am going to contribute to this. See! I've already got a page on femslashday.com! Yeah, it's me... shoujo-ai no shijin. :D

I hope to see a lot of my femslash loving friends participating in this, as far as I can see it's multifandom (and, I hope, open to original as well - since that's what I'll be writing) - so get those pens working and contribute, contribute, contribute! Let not femaslash be forgotten in the presence of mighty King Slash and boring... I mean, beautiful Queen Het.

So... yeah. Now you know. Spread the word!

~ S.

Kanbe Miyuki icons

Sat, 28 Jun 2008 07:19:52 GMT

I made these the day I found out she had passed away. It was a way for me to work with my grief - first searching for the Miyuki I remembered and later, when no one else were seemingly going to make icons, I did some simple bases myself, hoping someone else would want to use them for something. The pictures are from Sera Myu Antics.

1. 2. 3. 4.

5. 6. 7. 8.

9. 10. 11. 12.

13. 14. 15. 16.

17.

Comments would be nice, but not necessary. Neither is credit. They're just bases, after all. Enjoy. Rest in peace, Miyuki.

~ S.

Faith, Himeko-centred ficlet, KnM

Fri, 13 Jun 2008 13:19:50 GMT

For my application for polychromatic I had to write a "log" for Himeko's character to give an in depth portrayal of her thoughts and feelings. However, seeing that I'll never be able to actually use it for the game, I thought I'd post it here, simply because it's pretty. Like everything with Himeko is.

Title: Faith
Author: shoujo ai no shijin
Fandom: Kannazuki no Miko (first of many, trust me)
Character(s)/Pairing(s): unrequited Souma/Himeko, clueless Himeko/Chikane
Author's Notes: After Souma asked Himeko to start dating him and she turned him down, she stays on that hill with the perfect view over Mahoroba and thinks some secret thoughts to herself... After the memoriable Himeko-finally-turns-Souma-down scene in episode 12, but before Himeko returns to her dorm and Mako-chan.
_____

"See you later, Oogami-kun!"

Waving her arm in farewell, only letting it drop when Souma's motorcycle has become a spec in the distance, Himeko sighs. She feels sorry about having to turn Oogami-kun down like that when he's always been there for her... through all those rough years after her parents died. He had comforted her whenever she was sad, pedalling all the way to the ocean with her clinging to him on the bike. Trouble, that's all she's ever caused him, Himeko knows, and yet he's never complained. Even though she has never done anything of worth to help him like he's helped her... so many times...

Oogami-kun... she almost wishes he were the one she's waiting for, if simply so she wouldn't have to disappoint him even more. However, it can't be helped. Himeko will have to wait. The vision, both vivid and blurry in her memory, doesn't feel like Souma and thus she must wait with finding out who it is...

Maybe Mako-chan is right. Maybe Himeko is being overly silly about this. But...

"Do you know the game of Kaiawase? I think people can be treated the same way..."

Himeko doesn't remember who once told her this. It could be her father, back when he made the seashell pendant for her. After all, she doesn't remember all that much about him... For a long time, Himeko didn't understand those words. How could you compare songs to people? After she saw that vision, though, she thinks whoever said it is right. Like with the two parts of a song in Kaiawase that only fit perfectly with each other... people are like that, too. They can fit together in many combinations, but there's only one true match.

Mako-chan can think it's stupid as much as she wants. Maybe it even is stupid... many things about Himeko are, when all comes down to it. Himeko waits anyway.

She closes her eyes and tries calling forth the gir... the person in her vision. It hardly ever works for her, the details slipping away between her fingers. Like moonlight. Out of reach. Then again, Himeko is aware that she's never been a very focused person. Not like Mako-chan who's strong and can forget about everything else when she runs, concentrating solely on moving forward.

Himeko isn't like that. There's always an unexplainable melancholy in her heart that distracts her - like when she takes pictures and ends up zooming in on the small puppy next to the flowers, not the flowers themselves. If she were more like Mako-chan, perhaps she wouldn't be so clumsy... and she definitely wouldn't be as much of an inconvenience to people...

No matter how hard she tries, the image keeps escaping her mind. She wants to remember, but can't...

Finally giving up, Himeko takes a deep breath. Behind her, the sun is setting. Mako-chan will be worried if Himeko doesn't get home soon - even more so now when she's anxiously waiting to find out what Oogami-kun wanted. Not that Himeko can bring her any news that she'll like, but still... if Mako-chan gets too worried, she'll skip her evening run to search for her - she'd probably call Oogami-kun as well and then they'd both come look for her...

She always causes trouble for others.

"You're a dork," Mako-chan will tell her when she finds out. About Souma-kun and about Himeko's thoughts. Himeko closes her eyes against the sharp, warm sunlight, giggling to herself. Around her, the wind picks up speed, bringing with it unfamiliar scents. Himeko can't help it. The voice who told her about Kaiawase such a long time ago that she no longer recalls anything but the words is too... too... Himeko trusts it for reasons she can't explain. She just instinctively knows it's true.

Pressing her fingers to the pink seashell hanging around her neck, she smiles. In this world, somewhere, someone is waiting - like Himeko is waiting. Right now she might not know who it is, but at that time... Yes, Himeko believes; believes that when they meet, she'll know. They'll both know.

For sure.

~ S.

PS. I love Himeko. Seriously. I do. She's too cute for words.

sm_monthly theme: Dream, pairing: Michiru/Vampiru, Owari no Koshuuki

Tue, 06 May 2008 07:15:48 GMT

Okay, minna. I've written the crack pairing over all crack pairings. Except, it's not as much crack as... well, unusual. A true rare pair, I think you can call it, seeing that is has never been written before as far as I know. For sm_monthly's May challenge (rare pair) I signed up for the pairing Michiru/Vampiru (Sera Myu based, though - as always, my Michiru is so very anime inspired). I just thought Yuhka and Hikari would be dead sexy together - and I needed to re-explore my Michiru, so... Well, and look what I came up with. A fic. Whoa.

Title: Owari no Koshuuki (The End of a Time of Lonely Contemplation)
Fandom: Sailor Moon (Sera Myu/Anime)
Characters/Pairings: Michiru/Vampiru, hints of Michiru/Haruka
Word Count: Close to 1.500
Rating: PG
Summary: Vampiru has been alone for so long that she almost doesn't see the opportunity of escaping Transylvania's loneliness when it comes and slaps her in the face... After the ending of the Death Vulcan musical, Vampiru returns to Transylvania. Some time after someone she recognises returns as well...
Author's Notes: I love Hikari as Vampiru. She's a spoiled character, an emo character, a strong character, an evil character and a contradictionary character. And everybody knows that Yuhka was the one who made me fall in love with Michiru... beautiful, feminine, fierce and knowing. This fic is dedicated to them.
_____

Owari no Koshuuki

Of course oto-san wasn’t given a funeral. There was nothing to bury, after all. Nothing but his memory, because his physical form had been sealed away in the Underworld… “Until the day of judgment,” as he’d said to her in farewell.

Yet another thing Vampiru doesn’t understand and probably never will.

When it came to her father there had been many such things. Untold secrets and illogical lies. And she had hated him for it, but along the way she’d also come to realise it was his way of expressing his love. The only way he knew of.

So where normal parents gave their children nicknames and bought them candy to make them feel cherished, Vampiru thinks with a bitter smile, he… he had helped preventing Ragnarok. For her sake.

Then again… normal had never been a concept that fitted them. Maybe, for their kind, it was appropriate.

She lets her eyes come to a rest on the coffin where haha’s dress has been splayed out once more in the ceremonial display that he arranged, so many years ago. No funeral equalled no grave, but this… his death bed and the white veil of the dress that always reminded her father of his love and Vampiru of her hate… it has become her private altar.

Sometimes when she looks at it… she gets the feeling that the life she has been living since returning to Transylvania takes place within an evil dream – an ensnaring memory – that she has no means of breaking loose from. A labyrinth of eternal night that has made the hope of a day full of light become wistful thinking…

“It has been a while,” a gentle yet sharp voice notes behind her, Vampiru swirling around to face the person who has managed to walk in on her, lost as she was in thought. The woman is not tall, but her posture speaks of pride and her eyes of warmth. Vampiru recognises her in an instant.

“Neptune,” she hisses, embarrassed at having been caught off guard and letting her embarrassment show in a verbal attack. Like father, so daughter, ka? She, too, knows no other way but the way of beasts.

Neptune (or rather, her civilian form) only smiles.

Vampiru remembers then that it was this woman’s lover that she claimed for blood relative when she was still being manipulated by Lillith of Darkness and her gang. Raising her chin arrogantly, she spreads out her arms, asking in a harsh voice:

“Have you come for revenge?”

Shaking her head wordlessly, Neptune steps forward, looking the coffin over with a curious interest edged into every of her features. Observing her in confusion, Vampiru ignores the fact that she shouldn’t allow anyone else close to her private sanctuary.

The forests of Transylvania are a place of loneliness, not companionship, when all comes down to it.

Neptune lets her fingers run slowly down the side of the casket, her fingertips causing the material of the gown spread out over it to rustle gently. Instinctively, Vampiru grabs her wrist, yanking her hand back. Long, green hair falls into the other woman’s face, almost covering her intelligent eyes as she raises her gaze to look at Vampiru. She doesn’t seem afraid.

Vampiru doesn’t think she has ever met someone that didn’t show some kind of fear around her.

“If not revenge, then… doshite?” She lets go of Neptune’s hand and hides her unease by returning her attention to the dress. Haha’s dress. That she never got to wear.

“I never thanked you,” Neptune answers, though it isn’t much of an answer. If anything it just raises new questions. Hundreds of them. Narrowing her eyes, Vampiru tries figuring out what kind of trickery it is that the Sea Senshi is playing at. Cocking her head, the smaller woman carries on in a deceivingly light voice: “For returning Haruka to me.”

“Nani?”

The pretence of being interested in her deceased mother’s dress and her stupid father’s coffin fades away with that last sentence and Vampiru turns her head sharply to stare at the woman as she stands in front of her, clad in her simple, but elegant dress. She looks fully human (almost fragile) like that – nothing like the soldier Vampiru saw fight alongside her partner to save the planet from Death Vulcan. Nothing like Vampiru who may have human blood running through her veins, but has long ago been overtaken by the cold legacy of her vampire linage.

Returning to Transylvania was like returning to the many painful years alone, cut off from the world because she, Bloody Dracul Vampiru, is a double-edged sword. Sayonara to the freedom she experienced in Japan, sayonara to the clothes of her choice and sayonara to the life of a human being. Tadaima, unbreakable shadows of Transylvania.

It isn’t fair.

She thought she had come to terms with this destiny, but those words… those words reminds her that not everybody is a prisoner of loneliness. An empty shell. Cold. Dark.

“Michiru, doko ni, ka? Did you find her?” A darker, more masculine voice echoes off the walls in the hallway, Vampiru remembering the taste of strong, rushing blood just by the sound of it. Uranus.

Neptune… no, Michiru, was it, ka…. sighs, bowing shortly in Vampiru’s direction before heading for the door leading to the corridor outside. In her otherwise polite and aloof smile, Vampiru senses the clear trace of understanding, though she has no idea how this particular woman will be able to understand the fearsomeness of night, of solitude, when she’s so clearly devoted to someone else – her heart so obviously one of two.

“Matte,” Vampiru calls, her cloak billowing around her as she moves forward.

Stopping in the doorway and pushing some tresses of curly hair behind her ear, Michiru’s eyes glint as she looks at Vampiru over her shoulder, but her lips form no reply. Instead she says, almost teasingly: “I was told once that unpleasant dreams are something you can run from… but whether it works, I haven’t found out yet.”

“Michiru?” The other voice again. Uranus. Was it Haruka, Michiru called her?

A lock of her reddish brown hair tickles her cheek as Vampiru comes to a sudden halt, goose bumps rising on her arms when a gentle breeze finds its way through the gothic, leaded windows high above their heads. A greeting from the outside world. Michiru’s expression softens into the mere ghost of a smile. For some reason, Vampiru doesn’t want the other woman to leave. Not now. Not now when she has finally realised that there is another life than this… where her heart isn’t tied to a coffin and an old dress.

Walking out into the corridor, being almost swallowed up by the shadows residing there, Michiru pauses for a second with her hand on the door handle. The fast, almost panicked drum of footsteps comes to a halt further down the hallway.

“I’ll leave the door open, shall I?” Neptune’s voice is quiet – a mere whisper, really – but warm and soft with layers of meaning that Vampiru suddenly has an overwhelming urge to explore. It’s not a question and as their gazes lock, Vampiru’s and Michiru’s, Vampiru knows that even though she might not look like it, this strange woman with the powers of the ocean has more than a faint inkling about what solitude really means.

“What’d you say?” The voice of the other Senshi has moved closer and Michiru quickly rushes out to greet her, leading her away from the entrance to the south lobby where Vampiru is… hiding isn’t the right word, but close enough…

“Nani mo nai, Haruka. Let’s go back, there is no one here…”

Waiting in a tense, unsure silence until their steps die out, Vampiru doesn’t know what to think and feel anymore. Hearing the double doors downstairs fall shut, assuring her that she is indeed alone again, she brings a shaking hand to her face, pushing her hair back, out of the way.

She is alone. Again. In an empty house.

Only then does she move, spinning in a slow circle to face her father’s coffin, the dusty light making it look older than time itself. Or a fragment of a dream in black and white…

No one here… ka?

Vampiru wants to see the sun again, if only because darkness lulls you to sleep.

For the first time in what feels like ages, she smiles a crooked smile and leaves her sanctuary of mistrusting dreams behind, closing the door after herself without further thought. These walls can be lonely all by themselves… they don’t need her as companion in their sorrow, do they? She won’t prevent them from continuing their uneasy sleep, but neither will she adhere to this illusionary existence any longer.

Crossing the hallway hurriedly, she is just in time to follow the two silhouettes from the nearest window as they stroll carelessly through the gardens, heading for the motorcycle parked some hundred metres away from the castle.

When you sleep, you dream. And when you dream, you forget to live.

No one here… No one here…

If she wants to, Vampiru can leave as well and start running… She doesn’t have to be a slave of her past, because someone has left the door open…

Someone… no one here, but someone…

A smirk not unlike the one on Michiru’s lips as she left, both hot and cold at the same time, form her mouth into a curve of wordless understanding.

There is a woman whom she never got to tell “do itashimashite”.

Now she has been given the chance.

Sotto ai ni kitto yureru, jigen no shita made…
A gentle love, certain to flow to the dimensions below…

~ S.

Original story, "Ave Maria", for my onee-sama

Thu, 24 Apr 2008 08:38:58 GMT

Onee-sama, you already received this. I have only added minor changes to it, since you thought it was good as it was, but anyway, I post it here for your future enjoyment and other people's as well.

Title: Ave Maria (Hail Mary)
Author: animimares aka shoujo-ai no shijin
Pairing: Takayo/Mary
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1.350
Summary: They say Takayo needs Maria-sama's grace, but maybe it's not her grace that she needs at all... maybe it's something else entirely. Maybe it's understanding.

_____

Ave Maria

”Ave Maria,” Takayo murmurs, her forehead resting a bit uncomfortably against the sweaty knuckles of her folded hands, and the sharp edge of the kneeler she’s positioned herself on scraping her knees. As the rest of the prayer once again escapes her mind like sand between her fingers, she closes her eyes a little harder, the tiny glimpses of black spreading fast like blots of ink on the inside of her eyelids.

It doesn’t help. She can’t shake Mary off her mind.

If it had only been the right Mary she was thinking about, but it isn’t… it’s the wrong Mary, the sinful Mary, the lesbian Mary. The very tempting Mary with her European complexion and her pale eyes, the same colour as the sky on the first day of spring. The very sweet Mary with her stumbling, uncertain Japanese and her confidently lingering gazes that caress Takayo’s body – even through her clothes.

Sighing heavily, Takayo raises her face, opening her eyes to gaze at the beautiful marble statue of the Holy Virgin standing in front of her in its small niche, an impressive cluster of little prayer candles left at the foot of it. They look like stars, left behind on earth by some unknown deity whose name has been erased by the waves of time eternities ago.

Maria-sama’s features are luminescent, lit from below by the many burning flames and alight from within by the eternal peace bestowed upon her from above, captured in the cold stone. On her arm, baby Jesus is sitting, his tiny hands held lovingly out towards whoever might have stopped at the sight of him. At the sight of his blessed mother. His hands seem to be reaching out towards her, Takayo, begging for her to confess her sins.

“Ave Maria, full of grace,” she tries again, bowing her head, this time grabbing the crucifix of the rosary hanging around her neck to gather her thoughts, “the Lord is with thee…” Her fingers are the sheep and the crucifix the shepherd; unyieldingly searching for the one sheep in the herd that has been lead astray.

Her heart.

Takayo doesn’t remember what she’s supposed to say. Her prayer is futile when she can’t call the meditative chant forth and make her lips form the words. Why should God listen, when instead of the words passed down to her through time by the apostles themselves, she allows images entrance to her mind of two female bodies moving against each other. She doesn’t remember the words of “Hail Mary”, but she remembers the feeling of Mary’s skin under her fingertips (silky soft) and Mary’s fingers within her (harshly moving).

The sudden heat in her cheeks is the clear indication of a blush and Takayo quickly bows her head again, not so much as to pray but as to hide her embarrassing memories from the one person from whom she can keep absolutely nothing secret. Maria-sama. Theotokos. The Holy Mother.

“Ave Maria, full of grace, the Lord is with thee…” This time the words stand out; brightly white on black and in a strangely blurred font in her mind. Every time, though, she opens her mouth to read them aloud, they fade away as if ripples of water have erased them from existence. Takayo concentrates harder, trying to catch onto the next sentence before the transparent tide washes it away, only managing “blessed art thou among women”, then finding herself at yet another loss.

Among women…

Without meaning to, she recalls the little innocent touches between Mary and her that led to the final, passionate act of love. The soft brush of Mary’s shoulder against her own as they stood close together, discussing the latest lecture. The goose bumps rising on her skin at the feeling of Mary’s warm breath against her neck when the blonde girl leaned in to whisper something in her ear during class. The pressure of lips against her own, moist from the rain drumming against her umbrella, on the day Mary decided that she didn’t want to play hide and seek anymore, but needed the taste of Takayo on her tongue to really know her.

Raising one hand to press trembling fingers against her lips, Takayo remembers that kiss. The rushed gentleness of it. The surge of relief, happiness and fear that ran through her body as she felt Mary’s arms sneaking around her waist, urging her closer… closer still…

She tightens her grip on her crucifix, staring down at the minute Christ, suffering for the sins she commits each and every time she lets herself be dragged down Mary’s dormitory hallway, not even hesitating in the moment the transfer student unlocks the door to her room and welcomes Takayo inside with an intense glimpse of lust reflected in her fascinatingly blue eyes.

Nevertheless… Making love to Mary – being made love to by Mary – doesn’t really feel like a sin. It feels like heaven on earth. A paradise of bliss meant for Takayo and her creator only.

Why can’t that, in itself, be enough of a prayer?

Finally growing tired of the way the kneeler gnaws into her shins painfully; of the way she can’t live up to the righteous example of the saint whose grace people tell her she needs so desperately, Takayo gets to her feet, the motion leaving her face to face with Maria-sama. The Virgin Mother’s features still form an image of perfect harmony and gentle light, the tiny orange flames that bloom around her feet giving her a silhouette of sunset – a fitting golden halo.

But…

“Gomen nasai,” Takayo whispers, deciding for herself in the blink of an eye. Taking a deep breath, she slides the crucifix over her head, making sure it doesn’t get caught in her long hair and slowly… ever so slowly… she steps forward.

Maybe it’s not Maria-sama’s grace that she really needs. Maybe it’s her understanding. After all, Maria-sama was only a human being herself; a simple girl chosen by God to fulfil a very difficult task which involved the judgment of society and the overshadowing threat of being left on her own. Maybe… Maybe Maria-sama will understand the choice Takayo is left with if Takayo simply explains it to her, because when all comes down to it, their situations are so very similar.

“I need to do what is right,” her voice wavers as she says the words (words that have nothing to do with “Ave Maria”) and slips the rosary over baby Jesus’ head, “please understand, Maria-sama.” Takayo backs away and bows deeply, noticing how the crucifix catches the light and reflects it through the dark veil of her hair. I need to follow my heart.

Once Maria-sama unquestioningly followed the demand of her heart, even though it came at the highest cost. Now Takayo needs to follow her example and do what Mary had wanted for her.

“Don’t be afraid, Takayo,” she’d said, watching the other girl dropping to her knees next to the bed in which she’d just sacrificed her virginity, not to a husband, but to a beautiful woman with light hair and eyes of the sky who had managed to write her name on Takayo’s heart. Inerasably.

And Takayo won’t be afraid. Not anymore.

Maria-sama gave in to God’s purpose with her without a fight.

“Pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death,” she finishes at last; the prayer she began voicing such a long, long time ago. There is nothing to add. Takayo can only hope that her devotion will be enough.

And so, she gives in to God’s purpose with her, leaving the crucifix and the suffering Christ behind in the hands of baby Jesus and His mother, hoping that the Lord in remembrance of His own humanity will recognise hers, manifested in her beating heart that doesn’t need a suffering Saviour, but understanding.

“Amen,” she bids farewell, closing the heavy door to the cathedral.

There, in front of the church (not inside it), raising her eyes to the sky, Takayo finds her cell phone and dials Mary’s number.

Words aren’t important. Only love is.

~ S.

sm_monthly ficlet, day sixteen, "Prisoner of Love"

Fri, 18 Apr 2008 22:34:11 GMT

Title: Prisoner of Love
Author: animimares aka shoujo-ai no shijin
Fandom: Sailor Moon
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Haruka, the Messiah. Haruka/The Messiah, Haruka/Sailor Moon aka Haruka/Usagi, vague mentions of Haruka/Michiru.
Theme: Day Sixteen, Image
Genre: Angst
Version: Anime. Takes place right before the events of episode 110.
Rating: PG for kiss
Author's Notes: This just popped into my head and demanded to be written. So I did. I like it a lot, though I normally never like hot-off-the-press stuff.

_____

Prisoner of Love

When she opens her eyes, she knows she's dreaming.

Everything around her has been deprived of its colour, the only nuance left untouched besides the greys and white of her fuku, the woman in front of her. Yet, even her colour seems to be less colour than light, her hair shining like silver moonlight, though it also (underneath its whiteness) bears a touch of darkness - the black of night.

A goddess. No, not only a goddess.

The Messiah.

"You possess such a beautiful strength, Uranus," the Messiah says and her tone is admiring, her voice sweet and youthful.

Haruka knows that the being in front of her has never been forced to experience the reality of war; the cruelty of humans. Knowing that she will have to drag such innocence into the dirt of Neptune's and her own mission makes her heart ache. Taking a deep breath, curling her hand into a tight fist, Haruka pushes the thought away. Her strength isn't beautiful. It's necessary. She can't afford softness.

Not now. Not if this means...

"We will find the Talismans, ka?" Haruka asks, the Messiah busy scrutinizing a sakura blossom-filled twig with the artistic interest that would have fitted Michiru, but only makes these unclear features take on an air of childish fascination.

"The Talismans?" The Messiah repeats the words as if tasting them for the first time. Then she turns her colourless, colourfilled eyes upwards, meeting Haruka's gaze with a small smile.

She is gentle. Unable to keep the answering smirk at bay, Haruka cocks her head. This person might be the Messiah, but she's also only an innocent girl. That kind of charm has always been able to edge its way through all the Wind Senshi's defences; even her strongest armour.

"You already have the Talismans," the Messiah adds, her light body spinning in a circle, her hair flying around her form in long tendrils of sunrise.

Haruka's eyes narrow. Stepping forward through the world of black and white, she grabs the wrist of the one thing still in colour, though it has no colour, only energy. Looking at her in surprise, the Messiah comes to a halt. There's definitely darkness in her pupils, but it is another kind of darkness than Haruka has ever seen before. It has nothing to do with shadows. Nothing to do with Chaos.

"What's that supposed to mean," she requires, her voice deep and demanding. Is this the answer? Do Michiru and herself already have the Talismans in their possession...? Demo... there has been no sacrifice yet.

There's got to be a sacrifice, Haruka knows. It's the way of the world, no matter how much Sailor Moon hates it. Because even though this dream is in black and white, reality is not.

The Messiah doesn't reply. She raises her hand to once again contemplate the sakura blossoms, a soft smile edging its way onto her lips. She seems to be lost in a world of her own.

Haruka won't allow it. She hates it when Michiru does that, retreating into a world where Haruka doesn't have access. But if the Messiah does it, it will mean failure.

They can't afford failure any more than they can afford softness.

So she shakes the girl hard, only regretting for a short second the way her long hair is whipped into her face. Her framed features adopt the very distinct expression of fear. Haruka despises herself for it, but she has to know.

"What do you mean?" she asks again, a little more softly this time, because her actions spoke of all the harshness that she can muster.

It's not fair. It's not fair that they can't get the Grail and save the lives of millions without having to watch at least three people die.

It's not fair.

Blinking angrily, Haruka turns her face away, letting go slowly of the Messiah's wrist. She will find the Talismans on her own. She will save this world on her own. She isn't afraid of dirtying her hands to do it, but she won't... she won't sacrifice girls like Odango Atama, girls like Sailor Moon, girls like the Messiah in that fight. Because it's her fight.

Hers and hers alone.

"Gomen," she apologises, turning on her heel. She has crossed a line she wasn't meant to... in what way, she's not yet sure of. She just knows that now there's only one way to go and that's forward.

"Matte," the Messiah begs gently, Haruka continuing anyway. Then she feels a soft, warm hand on her arm and the distinct aura of power engulfing her. Looking over her shoulder, she stares into eyes that are no longer colourless, but the clear blue of the sky. The hair tickling her cheek is blonde; the golden shine of the sun.

It's... Staring wide-eyed, she gets out the first half of the name, before she's cut off.

"Odang..." Her voice drops a notch.

"You only need to ask your heart," the Messiah whispers before reaching up and cupping Haruka's face in her shining hands, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek. "Trust in your heart, Uranus."

And she's gone. Like the being of light she is, she disappears in the blink of an eye, leaving Haruka alone to slowly gain colour and conscious life.

When she wakes up, Haruka knows the dream is over and this is where reality will take its beginning.

~ S.

Haruka/Michiru fic for sm_monthly's theme: Keeping Secrets

Mon, 07 Apr 2008 12:16:39 GMT

Title: The Things Left Unsaid
Author: shoujo-ai no shijin
Fandom: Sailor Moon
Pairing: Haruka/Michiru
Theme: Keeping Secrets
Genre: Romance
Version: Anime
Rating: PG
Author Notes: I needed to write this. Lots of little plot points mentioned that I'll probably never get around to write. Sorry for giving Michiru so much sexual experience, but Haruka - besides her flirting - just never struck me as one who'd actually take a girl with her home unless she deeply cared for her and as shown in episode 106 and in her monologue from the S season, she did seem to keep to herself more so than Michiru or at least in a different way.

_____

The Things Left Unsaid

They both have secrets; secrets they don’t even share with one another.

Since Haruka first transformed and joined Michiru in her mission, they have made many promises. Mostly about their duty as Senshi; about forgetting the meaning of lovers when they are in their fuku, only remembering what the concept of partners demand of them… but also about the value of life and the necessity of death when it comes to their Princess and the future Kingdom.

However, one vow that they made to each other had nothing to do with Uranus and Neptune.

“Don’t ask me where I came from,” Haruka had requested one evening after an embarrassing meeting with a tall, blonde man who had insisted on calling her Haru-chan and kissed her cheek with the arrogant carelessness she would have allowed from no one but her older brother (and from the look on her face, she was very close to not allowing him the liberty either). Michiru had promised she wouldn’t, because she knew how important privacy was to her girlfriend – but only if Haruka in return would decline from ever inquiring about her past as well.

So, they had promised. The questions would lie dormant until they one day chose to bring them up themselves.

And therefore Haruka doesn’t know that Michiru hasn’t spoken to her mother for the past two years; ever since the day she’d sent a blushing, but beautiful Tahara Tomoko out the door, slapping the at that time 13-year-old Michiru for her “impertinence” and “lack of pride” in allowing herself to be “infatuated” with another girl. Neither does Haruka know that the only reason Michiru had moved to Tokyo was to be able to continue her relationship with Elza Gray in peace, without her mother’s condemning eyes watching over her.

Michiru, on the other hand, doesn’t know that Haruka lost her first national running competition because she’d stopped to help her sworn enemy when the girl had fallen and broken her ankle or that she had never since allowed anyone to intervene when she’d first started running (except for Michiru, that one time…) Another fact unknown to her is how Haruka cut her hair short in defiance when her father had forbidden her to join the motor sports club at school, deeming the activity too masculine for a proper girl of the Tenoh family.

Indeed, they share many things, do the Senshi of the Sky and the Senshi of the Sea. Laughter and joy. Tears and grief. Yet something always remains unsaid between them.

That’s the one promise they made, not as Uranus and Neptune, but as Haruka and Michiru – to be able to always look each other in the eye and recognise one another for what they are right now and not for what they once were. Michiru doesn’t ask why Haruka never speaks of her father and consequently Haruka never words her interest in the closeness between Elza and Michiru.

And since none of them ask, neither of them tells.

~ S.

sm_monthly, theme: cosplay, Haruka/Michiru fic

Sat, 05 Apr 2008 01:26:13 GMT

Title: Chou Bi (Super Beauties)
Author: shoujo-ai no shijin/animimares
Fandom: Sailor Moon/Real Life Sera Myu
Characters/Pairings: Outer Senshi, Haruka/Michiru, Takagi Nao and Asami Yuuka.
Genre: General/Humour/Romance
Version: Manganime/Musical/Real Life
Rating: Utterly PG
Word Count: ~ 3.000
Author’s Notes: I intend no harm with this fic. I do not want to demean any of the other actresses that have played Uranus and Neptune throughout the run of Sera Myu, I just found it plausible that if she could indeed go, Haruka would prefer seeing an original story line rather than seeing her own fight acted out. It so happens that most of the original storylines features Nao as Uranus and Yuuka as Neptune; it also just so happens that they are my absolute favourites. The lines in italics are from the musical “Last Dracul Jokyoku” (spoken lines are from the scene where Uranus confronts the vampire-bitten Neptune, the last line is from the song “Chou Bi – Uranus to Neptune”) which is one of my all-time favourite Sera Myu musicals. It was fun making just a little fun of it and yet still loving it to bit. I do not intend any discredit to Takeuchi-sama for this. It’s simply my humorous attempt at imagining what it would be like of Sailor Moon was more than a manga. I have written this because I love the original, not because I want to disgrace it.

_____

Chou Bi

”This got to be a joke.”

Haruka stares at the four tickets that Michiru has neatly spread out on the tabletop in front of her; the elegant black strokes of the hiragana inviting her to the premier of “Shin/Henshin – Super Senshi e no Michi – Last Dracul Jokyoku” at the Sunshine Theatre the next day.

Straightening up with both eyebrows raised sceptically, she looks from first Michiru to Hotaru-chan, meeting Setsuna’s gaze last. Both of the latter have adopted similar expressions of disbelief, though Hotaru-chan seems to be on the verge of clapping her hands animatedly and Setsuna about ready to excuse herself with a headache.

“No, Usagi and the others have asked us to join them at the show tomorrow,” Michiru confirms what the offending tickets have already so plainly hinted at. Feeling her glare soften at the gentle amusement visible in the violinist’s eyes, Haruka crosses her arms over her chest with a sigh. Of course Michiru is all for going. It really shouldn’t surprise her.

“Michiru,” she tries anyway, even though she already has a nagging suspicion about what the outcome of this argument will be (because Michiru always gets it her way in the end). Noticing how Setsuna nods softly in the direction of the youngest member of their little family, however, Haruka’s words die on her lips. Hotaru, at least, looks excited.

Still…

Normally it wouldn’t be such a troublesome thing for Haruka to go watch a theatre performance with the others, but this is different. This is Sera Myu, just another branch of the “Sailor Fever” that has raged in Japan ever since the Princess allowed that Takeuchi woman to publish their story under the cover of a harmless shoujo manga.

And even so… Haruka could deal with the manga. It’s just drawings and despite its heart-breaking accuracy at times (even on the matter of the future; Takeuchi-sama and Setsuna grew rather close over time), drawings can’t hurt her pride. She could even handle the way Hotaru obsessively bought each and every volume and still has a bad habit of letting them lie about the house for the Sky Senshi to stumble across, leading to her having skimmed more than just a few pages of the thing. After all, she looks quite good as a sharply outlined, black-and-white school girl (and so does Michiru).

The anime she never watched, but Usagi and her friends have told her that the two women voicing Michiru and herself were really good and even got close to the real thing at certain points – often in little more detail than Haruka would like, mostly in terms of Minako-chan and Mako-chan agreeing on the unequalled sexiness of Ogata Megumi’s voice. For weeks the Princess and her friends (and Hotaru, whenever she could find an occasion to join in) spoke of nothing else than the weekly episode of Bishoujo Senshi Sera Muun. Judging from Hotaru-chan’s sudden interest in TV when the series was aired the first time around, it really wasn’t half-bad.

But this… this Haruka can’t do to herself. She values her privacy too much to watch some actress playing Sailor Uranus jumping around, dancing and singing (instead of fighting, sweating, bleeding and crying) for the entirety of two hours. Her vanity probably plays a big role in this aspect as well.

No, she can’t.

“Michiru,” Haruka repeats, the slight pause she makes before opening her mouth to decline all the opportunity the Senshi of the Sea needs to cut in and break her resolve.

“Haruka,” Michiru says in a soft voice, brushing a lock of blonde hair away form Haruka’s face and looking as understanding as ever (how Haruka hates when she does that on purpose), “this time it’s an original storyline. It has nothing to do with us or our mission…”

“Besides the obvious,” Setsuna interrupts, her purple eyes betraying her reluctance beneath the otherwise resigned air around her. Haruka can’t keep a slight leer at bay. Setsuna doesn’t want to go any more than Haruka does; that alone could make her reconsider her answer.

“Onegai, Haruka-papa…” Hotaru-chan grabs hold of her arm, meeting Haruka’s gaze with those big, dark eyes of hers. How’s Haruka to say no to such a request?

Sighing, she rolls her eyes. “Fine,” she complies, sending Michiru a dirty look over her shoulder as Hotaru clings to her out of sheer happiness. The innocent smile on those carefully painted lips doesn’t fool Haruka. She has known the other woman for too long to not see the quirk at the corner of her mouth, turning her smile into more of a smirk. It’s quite clear that Michiru would have settled with nothing less.

Haruka knows she is going to regret that she’s so easily manipulated when it comes to the women she considers family. As a matter of fact, she regrets it already…

~~~

As Haruka looks around the audience rows, she realises they really needn’t have bothered with disguising themselves. No matter which way she looks, horrid yellow Odango-wigs (or something worse, like the sickly orange one a little Uranus-girl was wearing in the entrance hall) burn her eyes or the colour of a Senshi skirt reflects the light. If anything, people would just have thought they were really good cosplayers.

Apparently coming to the same conclusion, Ami takes off her hat some seats away and next to her, Michiru frees her hair from the tight bun she’s styled it in for the evening (the bright teal colour of it looks darker and closer to black when she doesn’t wear it loose). Noticing the attention, Michiru sends her a small smile and since Haruka isn’t one to bear a grudge, she ignores the fact that she should still be irritated with her girlfriend and returns the gesture. Leaning in, she murmurs in the shorter woman’s ear, her voice carrying the faint trace of teasing:

“So, who’s doing me?”

Michiru’s chuckles at the wording and as she retrieves the colourful brochure from her purse, she gives Haruka one of her Looks out the corner of her eye. Snorting at the unsaid implication, Haruka waits for the other woman to answer, but when the pregnant silence starts stretching out between them, she frowns and slowly turns her attention back to her partner. Michiru’s fingers have come to a halt on the photographs of the actresses, seemingly caressing the orange-blonde wig of the one playing Sailor Uranus.

Focusing on the small letters underneath the picture, Haruka reads aloud: “Takagi Nao.” Raising an eyebrow thoughtfully, she searches through the rest of the pictures, quickly finding the actress she’s looking for. “And Asami Yuuka.” Contemplating the small avatar of the very green-haired Neptune, she can’t help her smirk. Meeting Michiru’s eyes, she notes in a low voice: “She’s rather pretty.”

“Ara, Haruka-san,” Michiru purses her lips, though in her gaze the traces of laughter are evident, “are you trying to make me jealous?”

“And if I were?” Haruka responds, Michiru’s only reply a small giggle that quickly dies out when Hotaru-chan shushes at them. Looking up, Haruka realises that the curtains are about to rise and the performance about to begin.

She settles back in her seat, already expecting the worst.

~~~

After the first couple of confusing scenes, Haruka starts catching onto the feel of it. She still finds it utterly weird seeing “herself” on stage (though, she must admit, Nao-san does quite a job at portraying her), especially when watching the three Outer Senshi first appear on stage with a “Springtime of life. Running.” Finding herself smiling despite of the utter craziness of it all, she meets Michiru’s eyes and snorts at the raised eyebrow her girlfriend presents her with, admitting defeat. Yeah, okay, it wasn’t all that bad; though it had to be anyone’s guess what vampires had to do with Professor Tomoe…

As the plot thickens, Haruka actually starts liking Nao-san. The colour of her wig is too bombastic to be anywhere close to Haruka’s real hair colour and her voice is a slight notch off (not too light, not too dark, just - ), but there’s something about her... Michiru might be the true narcissist between the two of them, but Haruka has always disliked looking unattractive and if anything, Nao-san easily draws attention due to her looks alone; she’s unique. As she turns to face Yuuka-san who’s now trying to push “Neptune” out of her acting, instead embracing the cruelty of the vampires they’ve experienced on stage, Haruka can’t take her eyes off her.

“Yuuka-san might be pretty,” Michiru whispers in her ear as Nao-san steps forward, reaching out her hand with a soft, painful expression edged into every of her features, “but I do think you’ve just found your reflection, Haruka.”

Haruka doesn’t answer. Her eyes are fixed on Nao-san as the woman’s voice wavers despite what seems to be her hardest effort to keep it level and somewhat soft. Her words come out in little clusters of sounds; too many pauses breaking them up, though their meaning seems to linger in the quietness in between. It scares her to admit it, but Haruka recognises this particular fight for control over her body from herself. This desperate battle of keeping stormy emotions at bay.

“You are the pretty Soldier of Smiles with the ocean in her eyes… but…I am a Soldier of Battle.”

Holding her breath, Haruka waits for the next sentence to follow that last harsh exclamation. She’s never been the vocal type. She’s never been good at voicing her feelings, but luckily Michiru seems to understand so many things without being told. Normally Haruka would have hated seeing an outsider so blatantly supposing they could reflect something this private between Michiru and herself; between Uranus and Neptune. However, for some unexplainable reason, it doesn’t particularly trouble her to see Nao-san verbally reaching out, pretending to be someone she’s not. Pretending to be Sailor Uranus. Pretending to be Haruka.

“That’s why I couldn’t say… arigato… ”

The last word is more of a sob. Haruka has only one recollection of breaking down like this. And that was the one time she saw her world fall to pieces, unable to do anything about it. Clenching her hand into a tight fist, she wonders what she would do if she ever had to face Michiru in this way…

She exhales. Slowly. And blinks. Furiously. Michiru’s argument might have been that this had nothing to do with their mission – that doesn’t change the fact that Haruka right now feels as if she’s watching her heart being thrown in her face. She doesn’t exactly like it, but neither does she feel like getting up and leave. Normally she wouldn’t allow anyone to be so presumptuous as to assume they knew anything about her (or Michiru). Yet… this isn’t “normally”. This is something else. Something entirely different.

The warmth of fail fingers gripping her hand surprises her, though she doesn’t show it. Feeling Michiru’s gentle squeeze, Haruka turns her head and let’s herself be bathed in the small smile, her lover presents her with.

“Do you still think it’s a joke?” Michiru’s question is in a low voice, but her tone is gentle with only the faintest hint of teasing; more evident in her eyes than in her words. Haruka manages a chuckle in spite of the feelings piled up inside. Michiru is (always has been) an expect at pushing the right buttons in just the right way; so that it doesn’t hurt Haruka, but neither does it lull her into a false sense of security. And Haruka likes the challenge; ever since they first met (in collision) she’s liked this strange sensation of fighting between them.

“Of course,” she says, her voice dark and amused. There’s no trace of her inner conflict. On stage the plot moves towards its climate and as an upbeat battle song starts, Michiru raises an eyebrow at Haruka in the dark, clearly not convinced by her lover’s abilities as an actress.

“I know you better than that,” Michiru comments and looks back towards the actresses, the battle song now accompanied by a series of complicated-looking dance steps. With a small smirk, Haruka feels Michiru’s hand grasp her own tighter. They’re both bad at lying; Haruka because she’s honest by nature, Michiru because she hates indulging people. Feeling her smirk morph into a soft smile, Haruka acknowledges that words aren’t needed between them (not even a word such as “arigato”; not even a word such as “aishiteru”).

Truth comes without saying, doesn’t it?

~~~

“Watashi wa Saturn, hametsu no Saturn, inochi no Saturn…” Hotaru-chan hums as she leaves the theatre, closely followed by Odango Atama, clinging to Mamoru-san’s arm with a mystified look on her face.

“Demo, Mamo-chan,” she says, her voice insistent, “are bad people really weak against milk?”

Watching Mamoru-san open his mouth helplessly, Haruka almost feels sorry for him. Fortunately for him, Rei-chan decides to take action, smacking Usagi-chan on her head.

“Baka, Usagi,” she barks, leaning in with her lips pursed irritably, “it’s just a play.”

“I knew that!” Usagi retorts. As their argument soon develops into an immature contest of tongue-poking, Haruka ignores it, instead sparing Michiru a glance out the corner of her eye. The aqua-haired girl looks very smug. In fact, way too smug for Haruka’s liking – something that doesn’t get better as she realises the same expression is reflected in Setsuna’s features.

“Nani?” she asks, defensively, looking from one woman to the other. Setsuna’s smile is almost undetectable. As always her feelings are well disguised, but Haruka hasn’t been living with her for more than two years for nothing. She knows the signs. Setsuna feels like laughing; probably just as much as Michiru does.

“You seemed to be enjoying the show quite a bit,” she notes indifferently, though the way she and Michiru exchange looks is anything but. Haruka rolls her eyes, feeling a slight blush creep into her cheeks.

“It wasn’t horrid,” she observes; not directly agreeing, but neither is she saying that she hated it. She’s not a good liar. Neither of them would buy it. “And Asami Yuuka was pretty.” The last comment is a casual provocation, very purposefully thrown in Michiru’s direction. Because she may have won round one, has Kaioh Michiru (this time around), but Haruka is all for a rematch.

“Takagi Nao-san was so kakuii, wasn’t she?” Minako-chan chirps behind them, pressing her hands to her chest melodramatically and spinning around in an inelegant pirouette. “I think I could die happy if she looked at me the same way she looked at Yuuka-san. I mean, she’s almost as attractive as Haruka-san…” Looking up just in time to catch sight of Haruka’s raised eyebrow, Minako’s words die out; an embarrassed smile forming on her lips and a nervous grin following it, almost drowning out Mako-chan’s reply:

“She reminded me of my old sempai…”

Linking her arm under Haruka’s, Michiru suppresses a giggle, drawing the blonde’s attention back to her. She hasn’t bothered with styling her hair back into the tight knot on the top of her head again. In this crowd, no one will question the alternative colouring of her hair anyway.

“They didn’t assume too much, did they?” The Sea Senshi’s question is honest. She saw Haruka’s reaction to Nao-san’s speech and no matter how well Haruka might have covered it up, she is perfectly aware what an impact it had. Haruka shrugs lightly, catching sight of a poster on the wall on her right, Takagi Nao and Asami Yuuka staring out at her, both clad in Senshi fuku a great deal too fluffy and pompous to be of any use in war. Nevertheless, they make a good pair.

“It doesn’t really matter, does it?” Haruka asks in return, letting her gaze linger for a second longer on Nao-san’s piercing eyes with the hint of vulnerability. “As you said: It has nothing to do with us or our mission…” Next to her, the violinist comes to a halt, forcing Haruka to follow her example. Michiru glances over her shoulder, seemingly searching for the others in the crowd. During their little conversation, the other Senshi have fallen behind, engaged in animated talking (at least, some of them – Setsuna as always the quiet spectator). As they wait for them to catch up, they study the poster together in a comfortable silence.

“Maybe,” Michiru begins softly, Haruka cocking her head as she waits for the continuation, “I should be the one saying arigato.”

Haruka’s eyes widen slightly. Turning around, she is about to open her mouth and say something, but Michiru raises her face to meet her gaze, shaking her head with a half-smile. “I already know, Haruka,” she murmurs, only meant for the Senshi of the Wind to hear as the others finally join them, Hotaru-chan skipping past them, a new melody on her lips.

Staring into Michiru’s eyes, Haruka acknowledges that even though she wants to say it (but can’t), it’s not necessary. The two of them aren’t cosplaying actresses on a stage, aren’t animated colours on a screen or thin lines of grey in a manga volume. When it comes to the real Haruka and Michiru, most of what mattes is hidden between the lines, never said out loud. Haruka likes it that way, though sometimes she wishes her life didn’t fit quite so well into the world of magical fantasy…

Identifying the melody Hotaru is singing, Haruka rolls her eyes, letting the matter drop as they follow the crowd lead by Mamoru-san and Usagi through the streets of Tokyo. Soon Setsuna falls into step next to them and, little by little, Hotaru slows down her speed as well. She doesn’t stop singing and as Michiru joins in with her light voice (eyes laughing at her partner), Haruka pushes all thoughts of pride aside.

If being a super heroine gives you the right to have a catchy theme song like that, maybe it isn’t so bad after all…

Tsukete kita no ka?
Is the end of our journey near

~ S.

Metamorphosis (Unchanged), Haruka drabble for sm_monthly

Thu, 03 Apr 2008 08:01:05 GMT

Title: Metamorphosis (Unchanged)
Author: shoujo-ai no shijin
Fandom: Sailor Moon
Character(s): Haruka, Haruka/Michiru
Word Count ~300
Rating: G
Summary: It doesn't take plastic surgery for Haruka to change...
Author's Notes: Written for sm_monthly's theme two: Plastic Surgery. This is probably the most Haruka-centric thing I've ever written, but I really like the result. I've been wondering about Haruka's cross-dressing since I first was introduced to the character. Enjoy and please comment!
_____

Metamorphosis (Unchanged)

It doesn’t take any kind of plastic surgery to make Haruka appear to be a man; and very much so, at that. All it takes is the right clothing, the right movements and a slight edge of hoarse darkness to her voice that she has mastered for years by now. She already has the cool arrogance, the flirtatious smirk and what Michiru has dubbed her “prey look”. None of these things are foreign to her, neither are they the result of careful study or simple elements of acting, but Haruka has long ago realised that to most people the difference is so subtle that it disappears in between all the other nuances of grey. She has stopped trying to explain it. The people who matter already know; like Michiru. And herself.

Neither does it take any kind of plastic surgery to make her look fully feminine again. Sometimes unbuttoning the two top buttons of her shirt is enough. Of course, no one questions her sex when she’s in her Senshi fuku, but Haruka prefers to look like a woman without a skirt. A simple change of jeans can do the trick and strangers who mistook her for a boy the day prior, will turn their heads an extra time to stare; making sure their eyes didn’t betray them. Luckily, Haruka has never minded the attention. She likes defying the limits that she experiences in the world around her. They challenge her – like the horizon – to outrun them and discover what lies beyond.

Haruka is well aware that this little game of hers is like always walking a tightrope, balancing on the thin line dividing the domain of male and female, and yet she never questions herself. She knows her true nature – who she was (the Princess of Uranus), who she is (Tenoh Haruka, the soldier and the girl) and who she will eventually become (Sailor Uranus of Crystal Tokyo) – and doesn’t try to deny it, but unlike the simplicity of sex, gender is a many-sided concept.

And, when all comes down to it, being who she is (all that she is), it’s in her blood to be somewhat of an explorer.

~ S.

Repost of BLEACH/Sailor Moon crossover, Michiru/Yoruichi drabble

Mon, 31 Mar 2008 21:17:43 GMT

Title: Animal Attraction
Author: shoujo-ai no shijin
Fandom: Sailor Moon/BLEACH
Pairing(s): Michiru/Yoruichi, Michiru/Haruka
Summary: Michiru knows the cat is watching her. She also knows it's not really a cat...
Author's Notes: I know you've seen this drabble before, my dear, but I've been writing on it for a couple of days now and finally I'm pleased with it and wanted to know if you are as well. Only then can I post it on ff.net. To the rest of you who might be interested... comments are love!
_____

Michiru knows the cat is watching her as she shrugs out of her school uniform.

She also knows that it's not really a cat.

Leaning out the window, the duvet only just covering her breasts, she smirks at it, her hair falling around her shoulders in a decisively innocent way.

"Haruka would be very unhappy if she knew a Shinigami is watching me while I undress, Yoruichi."

In the blink of an eye, the cat has changed into a lean, purple-haired woman, standing (very naked) on the terrace of the Meioh-Kaioh-Tenoh residence. Her eyes glint proudly as she cocks her head.

"The Senshi of the Wind doesn't really intimidate me, Michiru," she reminds the blue-eyed woman who in return raises an eyebrow at her. However, as Yoruichi stretches languidly, Michiru lets her gaze run down the proudly exposed expanses of dark skin; the perfect curves and fit body.

No one can say this woman isn't beautiful and still be truthful. Michiru would never even try such a lie herself. Yoruichi pleases her sense of aesthetics and she’s not one to deny it.

"Don't underestimate my partner," Michiru warns gently despite her fascination of the Shinigami. Her smile doesn't falter and her eyes even betray a glint of laughter, but underneath the politeness of her words, the edge of sharpness lurks.

Yoruichi simply sniffs.

Ever since the Senshi started working together with the Shinigami to defeat the Hollows and send them back to the dimension in which they belong, Haruka has managed to face Yoruichi three times, every time finding herself on the losing end. Because Michiru knows the amount of power her lover possesses, she can't help but be impressed… and somewhat intrigued. Nevertheless, no one shall ridicule Haruka to her face; not even this feline beauty from another world.

"I'm the Goddess of Flash, Yoruichi," Yoruichi tells her as if she could read her thoughts, her exclamation making the glimpse of humour in Michiru’s eyes turn into an audible laugh. Raising one hand to press a bent finger to her lips, elegantly covering her giggle, Michiru can’t prevent the duvet from slipping down a bit, revealing yet another inch of pale, flawless skin. At the sight, Yoruichi’s expression goes very predatory indeed.

Maybe she can be considered a real cat after all, Michiru thinks.

As their gazes lock, Michiru’s conclusion showing in her smile, Yoruichi raises her chin in defiance, adding:

"The day she can catch up with me, I will maybe reconsider my opinion of her." Her voice is confident and a bit haughty and Michiru has to wonder if this attitude of hers is a way of hiding some untold, dirty secret. Detecting the air of arrogance around the Shinigami, though, Michiru finds it unlikely. Even if Yoruichi has something others would consider “a dirty secret”, she is too self-assured to ever categorize it as such herself.

Behind them the sound of footsteps disturbs the quiet of the house and Michiru is about to close the window, sending the dark woman a small nod, when suddenly Yoruichi’s lips quirk. Flashstepping up to her, Yoruichi’s movements are so quick that Michiru can’t follow them with her gaze and it’s not until the fleeting moment in which she feels soft lips brush against her own like a whisper of silk that she realises a kiss has just been stolen from her.

When the door to the bedroom opens, though, revealing a surprised looking Haruka, every trace of purple hair and naked legs have already disappeared again, leaving Michiru behind with only the feeling of the other woman’s satisfied smirk against the corner of her mouth.

"Who're you talking to?" Haruka asks, looking around with narrowed eyes; suspicious. Michiru closes the window slowly, keeping a smile at bay and fixing her eyes on the reflection of strong shoulders, covered by a well-known sailor collar. It's something new, seeing Haruka in a skirt – even if only the skirt of her school uniform – when she's not in her Senshi form.

"Ara, no one," she answers, amused, catching a glimpse of a black cat tail disappearing in the bushes. Then she finally turns around. "The neighbour's cat…"

Shaking her head with a snort, Haruka puts her school bag down, letting her eyes run up and down Michiru's only half-covered body, her expression growing hungry.

"If I were going to ask you why I'm finding you naked in our bedroom when you're supposed to be at school," she says, her voice low and flirtatious, "what would be your answer?"

Michiru chuckles, letting the duvet fall to the ground completely. "Does it matter?" she asks in return; mysteriously with the hint of flirting. Questions are always more easily manageable than hastily drawn conclusions.

Nonetheless…

In the back of her mind, Yoruichi's words of goodbye echo, mixed with the rushing sound of her flashsteps.

"Sadly for her, she can't do this..."