A/N: I was going to do one of those 10 song drabble things originally, but that didn't really work out and now I have 6 unrelated drabbles that I'm posting together. For the sake of semantics I'm going to mention that each section isn't exactly 100 words, thereby making each technically not a drabble but honestly, I don't care for semantics. Also, I haven't watched the show in a few months so please forgive me if there's a continuity error or two. And I'm sorry for being so inclined towards pretentious babble :(


01. (Mami-centric, gen)

There's rain splashing down onto the warm concrete, and the scent of wet dirt and stone is rising. They're out there in the rain, just Mami and Madoka and Sayaka, three girls taking a break from concepts as fantastical as grief seeds and witches and the little girls that fight them. The air is humid and nearly suffocating, except it's not, not really, that's just how Mami feels.

She's hardly any older than her two newfound friends-friends, amazingly enough-and it's been making her think about how young she truly is too. Mami is self-sufficient and mature far beyond her years, has to be, needs to be, but she knows that sometimes she needs to act younger than how she needs to feel, like a girl her age ought to.

So Mami sits on the swing while the light rain turns into an even lighter drizzle, and Madoka takes a turn pushing her up, high into the sky while drops of water collect on her brow and nose and lips, and Mami starts laughing. Madoka laughs to, and in the swing next to them Sayaka starts giggling as well. Not everything has to change, not yet.


02. (Homura/Madoka, AU)

Madoka sighs, looks up, and grins. Homura's face is hovering just above her own, so close that their noses are nearly touching and their breath is mingling.

"Hi," she says, voice full of warmth and affection. Madoka's lips curl further upwards as Homura's mouth twitches into a small smile, and they meet for a kiss, albeit upside-down. Homura is leaning over the edge of the couch while Madoka resides on the floor just to the left of it, and her dark hair falls and curtains their faces.

It's quiet, soft, happy.

As they part, and Homura opens her mouth to say something, Madoka suddenly wonders what life could have been like if not just like this.

"Hello," Homura replies, and that train of thought is disregarded for more pressing matters.


03. (Kyouko-centric, gen)

Kyouko fights because it's necessary, because it's something that she can do well and be proud of herself for. It's something that gives her purpose beyond all else. Her duties as a magical girl call for someone who is not just competent, but someone who is great in some way.

After what her father did, after what happened to the rest of her family, it's enough to propell her forward and force her to live only for herself as well. Kyouko knows that she doesn't have anyone else to live for, and she'll be damned before she stops living for herself. Even if deep, deep inside, she knows that there's more to life than that, or whatever sick approximation of life is granted to those like her, like other magical girls.

Or at least, Kyouko thinks this until she gets to know Sayaka.


04. (Homura-centric, mostly gen)

Homura is quiet. Homura is loud. She is timid, she is aggressive. Homura is many things, was many things, will be many things, all this she is deeply aware of. Things, like a magical girl (though not when it truly mattered), like a girl with glasses and a girl without them (they made her seem weaker, more vulnerable, not acceptable at all), like a girl with braids and one with her hair down (she had to change, had to do something), like a girl with Madoka and one without her (and Madoka was pivitol, definitive, and Homura just couldn't let go of that).

Homura finds and magnifies the pieces of herself accross the infinite number of universesl, across the endless realms of possibility, and tries to form and shape those fragments into something, someone, that can save Madoka. Homura is not a static entity, and she knows it.


05. (Sayaka-centric, unrequited Sayaka/Kyousuke & Sayaka/Kyouko)

You don't always want what you wish for. Sayaka thinks it's a little silly, but that's all she can think of. That, and how deeply she hurts. It makes her feel better than Kyousuke can play again, can do what he's best and most passionate at, and it makes Sayaka feel disgusted and terribly guilty when she wishes that Kyousuke would love her instead of Hitomi. She doesn't regret using her wish on Kyousuke, but at the same time, she does, just a little. She never knew things would be like this, that she was giving up her very humanitity for the boy that didn't love her. She resents Hitomi for doing what she wasn't she couldn't, wouldn't do, and above all Sayaka resents herself for even getting into this mess. It wasn't fair, not to anyone, except maybe Kyousuke.

Sayaka just wanted someone to love her, as terrible and miserable as she was, and Kyouko thought it was disgustingly unfair that she could only express that when Sayaka lost herself completely, when she gave up her life to save the both of them, and everyone else.


06. (Homura-centric, gen)

It's nice, Homura thinks. There's a certain sense of solidarity that comes from spending time with Tatsuya when Junko calls her over to babysit. She likes being able to talk to another person about Madoka, even if it's just in games of pretend with the little boy who was once her brother. Is her brother. Except not.

Homura knows that Madoka is out there, watching over her, over everyone else, and she could never forget that no matter how hard she tried, but it's always a little hard to reconcile that with the fact that Madoka is no longer a person, a true individual.

So she plays with Tatsuya when his parents are out, and Junko kisses her on the top of the head before she heads back home each and every time. It's nice.