Goodbye LJ...

[windandwater]

This is just to make it official for those who don't know, but I'm leaving LJ completely. For the rest of this week at least. Tomorrow is the Bar Exam and it runs for three days, so don't expect to see me about at all until Thursday night. Or even until the weekend since I plan on spending Thursday after the Bar drunk and crying. No online time for me at all. *whines* It will be hard, but I know I can do it.

So, because I'm a total h0r like that, I am declaring this to be a spam post. Go ahead. Run wild! Give me fics, give me links, give me pics, just babble to your heart's content and rape my inbox so I have something to see when I finally DO come back to the wonderful world of LJ. I don't even care if you write me a drabble and post it one word at a time. XD;

Though, I've tried to make a spam post before and it failed a bit miserably, so I don't have very high expectations this time around. Feel free to prove me wrong though!

♥

Comments

Re: All of my GW fic. EVER.

[mikkeneko.livejournal.com]

The Copper Key
Pairings: none
Category: Pastfic
Warnings: angst, death, sickness, more death, more angst
Blood type: AB -
Disclaimer: Yea, although I walk through the valley of Gundam Wing, I remain untouched by lawsuits, for I own nothing and lay claim to nothing. So mote it be.
Author's Notes: This wasn't planned, honest to Shinigami. I just sort of sat down one day and it happened.

The smell, it was the smell that lingered with him long after everything else was gone, when the five little ones were taken away to live in new homes, when his hair was caught back and bound into a braid, when he grew into a new name even when he left L2 and came to Earth he could still feel the stench lingering in his skin. And he knew it would never never never go away.
Key then was the youngest one, the smallest and most delicate one. He could not remember the night that Solo picked him up in an alley and gave him his name, for the copper key to nowhere safely on a chain around his neck. He could not remember where the key fit, or one second of the four years of his life before he came to live with the war orphan gang. He then was the youngest one in Solo's gang, Solo who was strong and tall and brave and almost thirteen. Everybody loved Key and everybody was willing to feed him if there was food, to laugh and joke or teach him something new. But not today. Not yesterday or the day before that and not tomorrow or for some time to come.
Everyone was acting strange today, staying at home in the dead apartment building and no-one was going out. Except for Solo. Solo came and went and Key only saw him some of the time, and when he did he was frightened because there was a look on his face that Key hadn't ever seen before. He looked much much older than thirteen, he looked angry, and Key could not understand why strong tall brave Solo was afraid.
Solo had nothing to fear. No mark could resist him. No cop could catch him. No lock could hold him. He took good care of his gang and they loved and followed him, all thirty-seven of them (Key knew the word thirty-seven; when Solo was counting heads and he said that word, then it meant everybody was safe,) the little one most of