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: The Boy That Didn't Cry

[mikkeneko.livejournal.com]

That scream was enough to bring Trowa back into the hangar, just as Wufei finally popped his own hatch and burst out of the cockpit. Trowa's first thought was that Maxwell had perhaps gone insane, and begun attacking his comrades, and so his gun was out when he dashed through the doors. He did not see what he had expected to see.

Heero, standing off to one side, with no more movement or expression than a exquisitely beautiful statue. Quatre, standing beneath the Gundam Deathscythe with its hatch open, and a crimson stain rapidly spreading across his skin and clothes. And Duo.

The gun clattered to the floor as Trowa moved forward as if in a dream, or a nightmare. His comrade, fellow pilot, ally soldier. Duo Maxwell. The outrageous, the reckless, the vain. The one that never stopped making jokes, never stopped talking, never stopped moving, never stopped smiling...

Stopped.

From the chest up, he looked almost normal, almost beautiful; he could almost be unconscious, but for the blue-gray of his skin. Barely a bruise marred his skin, not a tear disturbed the white collar or the black shirt. Only the blood trickling from his nose and mouth gave any indication of what had happened.

What *had* happened --

The Gundanium Mobile Suit's cockpit, the bubble of enclosed space buried deep within the killing machine's heart to carry the fragile scrap of life within. The indestructible shell collapsed, inwards and upwards, pinning and crushing the pilot it was supposed to protect. The lower half of Duo Maxwell's body was barely identifiable as human, crushed and shattered and violated by splinters, shreds of Gundanium driven by forces that didn't recognize human flesh. The other pilot found himself almost mesmerized by the sight; the familiar, familiar Gundam cockpit just like the one he himself sat in, warped and twisted out of recognition. An impossible quantity of blood pooled in the cockpit floor, flowing and flooding out over the black Gundanium exterior to drip brilliant scarlet on the ground.

Duo Maxwell was dead, there could be no question as to that. From the moment the structure collapsed, not a force in the universe could have saved him. "Why didn't he tell us he was hurt this badly?" Trowa breathed, unable to accept the concept that anyone could remain conscious, even for a little while, much less pilot after that. Surely, surely he would have at least been granted the mercy of an instant death!

This was war; death happened. But it wasn't supposed to happen like this, drenched in blood and mangled flesh. Their bright energy weapons were supposed to cook everyone neatly, like eggs in their shells; people were supposed to die in clean fire and explosions, not like this, not like this! "How could this happen?" Wufei grated out,