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: Confluence

[mikkeneko.livejournal.com]

I turned away from the fridge to see Heero eyeing the couch -- I think it was the couch, anyway -- with an expression of doubt. Leaning over the back of said furnishing, I put one hand on the top of the stack of junk and shoved it heedlessly to the floor. Yep, that was the couch. After another moment's hesitation, Heero sat down in the cleared space. I flopped down on the other side of the couch, not bothering to clear a spot, and handed him a beer. "So... if this is a top-secret mission you're on, then what are you dropping by here for? You need me to do something for you, or is it just a social visit?"

("The perfect soldier does not do social visits," Heero growled at me, pulled out his gun, and shot me.) I took a sizeable gulp of my beer, to chase away that image. Yikes.

He shook his head, oblivious to the funny little pageant going on inside my brain. "No... there's something only you can do."

Suddenly, the whole day looked brighter. There was a stealth mission involved, had to be. Even Heero admitted that no-one could beat the God of Death at stealth. "Sugoi! Just say the word, and I'm there! So what's the job, Hee-chan?"

I had not meant to say that. It just slipped out. Honestly. Well, maybe there was the unconscious desire there. Freud would have a field day with me, even without the little hallucinations. Heero flashed me a startled look that quickly melted into a scowl; I flashed him a cheeky grin that just dared him to call me on it, and took another drink. "Come on, mystery man. What is it this time? Rebels? Terrorists? Paparazzi?" I prodded. He still didn't answer, just sat there and turned the bottle around in his hands. It was empty, and I could not even remember seeing him drink out of it. And since when did the Perfect Soldier drink? If I hadn't known better, I would have sworn he was nervous.

"That's not what I want to talk about now," he said, abruptly standing. He (lowered himself into my lap, pressing his warmth against mine, his hands in my hair, his mouth on my neck) brushed past me on his way to the fridge, setting the empty bottle on the fridge before wheeling abruptly to begin pacing.

This time, I had to fight down the sudden warmth flushing through my body and into my face. My body was gullible; even a daydream was enough to steal my breath away. Oh, God, even being in the same room with him was enough. "Ne, Heero, you're making me dizzy, pacing like that," I drawled wryly, scrunching down a little further on the couch. True. I was very dizzy. "What are you, a lion?"

He stopped, and turned to face me, tension defining every muscle. "I have something to tell you," he said, his normally flat voice infused with some fierce overtone I couldn't identify. "I know that I can trust you enough to tell you this, I know that I can..." He trailed off.