Title: Deviations from the Norm
Author: Sailor Seraphim (slrsera @ aol.com)
Archive:
l.e.t.h.a.l.t.h.o.u.g.h.t.s. :: I lost my webhost. *grumble*
FanFiction.net :: http://fanfiction.net/profile.php?userid=39868
Final Triumph :: http://www.geocities.com/finaltriumph
Emy's Archive :: http://emy.gwyaoi.com
All others please ask.
Rating: R -- just because it's damn weird.
Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing or any of its related characters. If I did, the series would be chock-full of tasty shounen ai goodness. I do, however, own the situations which occur in this fic.
Pairings: Oh god... I don't even want to think about it.
Warnings: SQUICK! Trippiness. SQUICK. Sex. SQUICK. Goo. Beastiality? Nothing here will make sense, for a reason. Did I mention the SQUICK?!
Spoilers: Uhm, I guess Endless Waltz would be good.
Notes: Jeeze... I can't believe I actually wrote this. *mutters* I dedicate this to Dev Aki Basaa, who will probably try to palm the blame on someone else. It's her fault for making this plotbunny attack me.
Feedback: I take all constructive criticism. No flames, they leave nasty scorch marks on the carpet.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
He walked down the hallway.
The corridors were bleak, sterile, all shiny chrome and white plaster glowing faintly under the florescent lights overhead. There was no deviation from his course, walking forward... always straight and always forward, never looking back. He never looked back and he tried not to see what was happening in the numerous other hallways that twisted off like snakes from the corridor.
But he always walked forward.
Always forward.
Because if he looked back...
A large wooden door loomed up over him. He reached out with one hand to grasp the cold metal knob with his warm fingers. He pushed open the door. The auditorium was filled to capacity. Diplomats in their official finery sitting next to the battered and weary soldiers sitting next to the poor and starving children. He walked across the stage and General Noventa was there, standing at the podium. The old pacifist smiled and turned to Heero.
"There you are, my boy. You shouldn't forget this!"
In Noventa's white-gloved hand lay a small cylinder with a red button on the end. Heero just nodded and took the device, tucking it away in the pocket of his spandex. The audience erupted into applause and Noventa turned back to them, raising his white-gloved hands for silence, but was ignored by the crazed mob ripping the remains of the bombed-out buildings to shreds. Prussian blue eyes watched calmly for a few minutes, seeing Noventa's kindly face as he smiled to the people. The podium sank down, dissolving into some sort of thick green substance. It looked like the Jell-O Duo had introduced him to in the cafeteria tomorrow.
He walked forward.
Off the stage. Out the swinging auditorium door. Into another corridor. Forward, forward, always forward. There was an explosion behind him. He could feel the heat and the flames licking against his skin. He walked faster. He removed his hand from his pocket.
Never look back.
He looked at the paneled wood walls instead, wondering idly if it was real wood or some cheaply manufactured synthetic. The blue goo dripped down the walls, splattered on the floor and a barn door opened up in his path. Heero sidestepped the door, pausing only briefly to glance inside the room. There was a shiny black Grand Piano sitting in the middle of the jungle, its white and black keys lovingly polished. Quatre was sitting on the piano with a bottle of motor oil in one hand and a teacup in the other. He filled his teacup and held it out to Heero.
"I almost forgot to take my vitamins!" he said with a sheepish smile. He poured the thick red goo from the teacup onto the piano.
Heero just nodded and closed the door.
"It was nice playing chess!" Quatre's voice called out one last time before the heavy wooden door slammed shut on the coffin.
Heero continued to walk. He removed his hand from his pocket. The hallway continued to twist straight and he followed the bleached brown tiles beneath his feet, scuffed yellow sneakers making no sound on the soft carpet. He made sure to avoid the pink goo that lay in a puddle at the base of a wall. Wufei ran across his path, carrying a torch. He looked back at Heero, his jet black eyes fierce with emotion.
"They've caught a witch!" he exclaimed and then dashed off down the hallway.
The Japanese boy just shook his head and continued to walk forward. Trowa was standing in the middle of the hallway, blocking his path. Heero stopped abruptly, taking his hand out of his pocket. The green-eyed boy leaned forward and held out a hand.
"You mustn't forget this," he said.
Heero looked down at Trowa's outstretched hand. Cupped in his palm was some orange goo. It dripped down between his fingers and splattered on the floor. Heero just nodded, holding out a hand.
The goo leapt into his palm, dancing across his fingers and sliding slowly up his arm. A quick flash of violet caught Heero's vision. Heero sighed at the feeling, tossing his head back against the soft pillows. The soft, silky touch traveled farther down, across his chest, nipping at his collarbone. Heero moaned and arched up, receiving nibbling kisses on his nipples for his good behavior. Heero screwed his eyes shut, biting his lip as he felt a warm wetness engulf his rigid length. He planted his feet firmly on the bed, giving him the leverage to thrust up into those teasing licks and bites, urging his partner to not tease him further. A familiar laugh was in his ear. Blindly, Heero reached down, his fingers fumbling and grasping at thick strands of coarse hair, anchoring that wonderful heat in place. He snapped his hips up harder, cries of pleasure ripping from his throat.
And it came, like the rolling tide of a storm crashing down on his body and he jerked and spasmed and opened his eyes.
He looked down between his legs.
The soulful eyes of a golden retriever puppy looked back at him. Its pink tongue lolled out of its mouth and it whimpered and collapsed, pillowing its head against Heero's bare thigh.
"Onii-san, are you lost?" the little girl laughed into his ear. She wrapped her arms around Heero's chest, fisting her hands in his shirt. "Ne… are you lost?"
Heero woke up screaming.
-- owari --
Author: Sailor Seraphim (slrsera @ aol.com)
Archive:
l.e.t.h.a.l.t.h.o.u.g.h.t.s. :: I lost my webhost. *grumble*
FanFiction.net :: http://fanfiction.net/profile.php?userid=39868
Final Triumph :: http://www.geocities.com/finaltriumph
Emy's Archive :: http://emy.gwyaoi.com
All others please ask.
Rating: R -- just because it's damn weird.
Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing or any of its related characters. If I did, the series would be chock-full of tasty shounen ai goodness. I do, however, own the situations which occur in this fic.
Pairings: Oh god... I don't even want to think about it.
Warnings: SQUICK! Trippiness. SQUICK. Sex. SQUICK. Goo. Beastiality? Nothing here will make sense, for a reason. Did I mention the SQUICK?!
Spoilers: Uhm, I guess Endless Waltz would be good.
Notes: Jeeze... I can't believe I actually wrote this. *mutters* I dedicate this to Dev Aki Basaa, who will probably try to palm the blame on someone else. It's her fault for making this plotbunny attack me.
Feedback: I take all constructive criticism. No flames, they leave nasty scorch marks on the carpet.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
He walked down the hallway.
The corridors were bleak, sterile, all shiny chrome and white plaster glowing faintly under the florescent lights overhead. There was no deviation from his course, walking forward... always straight and always forward, never looking back. He never looked back and he tried not to see what was happening in the numerous other hallways that twisted off like snakes from the corridor.
But he always walked forward.
Always forward.
Because if he looked back...
A large wooden door loomed up over him. He reached out with one hand to grasp the cold metal knob with his warm fingers. He pushed open the door. The auditorium was filled to capacity. Diplomats in their official finery sitting next to the battered and weary soldiers sitting next to the poor and starving children. He walked across the stage and General Noventa was there, standing at the podium. The old pacifist smiled and turned to Heero.
"There you are, my boy. You shouldn't forget this!"
In Noventa's white-gloved hand lay a small cylinder with a red button on the end. Heero just nodded and took the device, tucking it away in the pocket of his spandex. The audience erupted into applause and Noventa turned back to them, raising his white-gloved hands for silence, but was ignored by the crazed mob ripping the remains of the bombed-out buildings to shreds. Prussian blue eyes watched calmly for a few minutes, seeing Noventa's kindly face as he smiled to the people. The podium sank down, dissolving into some sort of thick green substance. It looked like the Jell-O Duo had introduced him to in the cafeteria tomorrow.
He walked forward.
Off the stage. Out the swinging auditorium door. Into another corridor. Forward, forward, always forward. There was an explosion behind him. He could feel the heat and the flames licking against his skin. He walked faster. He removed his hand from his pocket.
Never look back.
He looked at the paneled wood walls instead, wondering idly if it was real wood or some cheaply manufactured synthetic. The blue goo dripped down the walls, splattered on the floor and a barn door opened up in his path. Heero sidestepped the door, pausing only briefly to glance inside the room. There was a shiny black Grand Piano sitting in the middle of the jungle, its white and black keys lovingly polished. Quatre was sitting on the piano with a bottle of motor oil in one hand and a teacup in the other. He filled his teacup and held it out to Heero.
"I almost forgot to take my vitamins!" he said with a sheepish smile. He poured the thick red goo from the teacup onto the piano.
Heero just nodded and closed the door.
"It was nice playing chess!" Quatre's voice called out one last time before the heavy wooden door slammed shut on the coffin.
Heero continued to walk. He removed his hand from his pocket. The hallway continued to twist straight and he followed the bleached brown tiles beneath his feet, scuffed yellow sneakers making no sound on the soft carpet. He made sure to avoid the pink goo that lay in a puddle at the base of a wall. Wufei ran across his path, carrying a torch. He looked back at Heero, his jet black eyes fierce with emotion.
"They've caught a witch!" he exclaimed and then dashed off down the hallway.
The Japanese boy just shook his head and continued to walk forward. Trowa was standing in the middle of the hallway, blocking his path. Heero stopped abruptly, taking his hand out of his pocket. The green-eyed boy leaned forward and held out a hand.
"You mustn't forget this," he said.
Heero looked down at Trowa's outstretched hand. Cupped in his palm was some orange goo. It dripped down between his fingers and splattered on the floor. Heero just nodded, holding out a hand.
The goo leapt into his palm, dancing across his fingers and sliding slowly up his arm. A quick flash of violet caught Heero's vision. Heero sighed at the feeling, tossing his head back against the soft pillows. The soft, silky touch traveled farther down, across his chest, nipping at his collarbone. Heero moaned and arched up, receiving nibbling kisses on his nipples for his good behavior. Heero screwed his eyes shut, biting his lip as he felt a warm wetness engulf his rigid length. He planted his feet firmly on the bed, giving him the leverage to thrust up into those teasing licks and bites, urging his partner to not tease him further. A familiar laugh was in his ear. Blindly, Heero reached down, his fingers fumbling and grasping at thick strands of coarse hair, anchoring that wonderful heat in place. He snapped his hips up harder, cries of pleasure ripping from his throat.
And it came, like the rolling tide of a storm crashing down on his body and he jerked and spasmed and opened his eyes.
He looked down between his legs.
The soulful eyes of a golden retriever puppy looked back at him. Its pink tongue lolled out of its mouth and it whimpered and collapsed, pillowing its head against Heero's bare thigh.
"Onii-san, are you lost?" the little girl laughed into his ear. She wrapped her arms around Heero's chest, fisting her hands in his shirt. "Ne… are you lost?"
Heero woke up screaming.
-- owari --