Someday There Will Be Writing...

I write fan fiction, and sometimes poetry or original fiction. At least... I would like to say that. I've been very caught up with other things and haven't written much of anything lately. In hopes of further reminding myself to work on improving, I'll post my most recent work here, and perhaps new ones to come. Some series I might write about in the future include Disgaea, Pokemon and Touhou.

Links for my primary writing upload locations:

Spoiler:

Adjusting to a new sleeping environment is always rough, and Mako’s house was no exception to that. Sleeping with so many people nearby put Ryuko slightly on edge. The practical effect on her being that she’d wake up throughout the night more often than usual, and remember it more often than usual. It wasn’t much of an annoyance, though, it gave her time to think about what would happen next in her battles with Satsuki’s dogs. Pigs, as the council president would call them.

This was one of those cases, and another not entirely singular event was also underway. For the third night in a row, Mako was cradling her friend’s waist with her arm, her face buried in the torso. It had caught Ryuko off-guard before. The first time she panicked and threw Mako away from her, which strangely didn’t seem to wake her. The second time she was shocked, but simply moved away and continued sleeping. Now, there was no such surprise.

She didn’t want to spend the energy escaping the position, nor, she realized, did it feel altogether uncomfortable. Not since long before her father’s death had Ryuko had somebody embrace her in an extended manner. The sensation of her waist being cradled was alien, though not unwelcome. Blame couldn’t be put on her classmate either, in fact she felt that she was lucky Mako didn’t have far stranger or more annoying nightly habits, like kicking or… whatever. Having a dormant desire to cuddle what’s around you was sort of cute, in all honesty.

Cute. It’s a more fitting word to describe the airhead than Ryuko original thought it would be. Annoying, cheery, oblivious, kind, but not cute. Looking downward at the other girl’s head where it lie buried in fabric, among which her pajamas count, revealed the accuracy of the descriptor beyond any doubt.

Mako’s statement from one of their earlier adventures, if it can be called so, flashed into her mind. The phrase was one Ryuko didn’t initially linger on, due to how dramatic and strained the event was, but now she remembered and reflected upon it. Before they met, the other girl’s sole friends were those in her head. She wasn’t a psychologist, but that sounded dreadfully sad. Was her warped comprehension of the world around her furthered in defense of the loneliness? She doubted any explanation could fully account for the girl, but still…

On this train of thought, she realized another fact. In the same way, Ryuko herself didn’t really have a friend until Senketsu and Mako came along. She lingered on how that may’ve effected herself, until she felt a slight movement at her torso. Looking down at her friend, still wrapped around her waist, she saw the girl flinch and nuzzle against her. A bad dream? Ryuko reached down and rubbed the back of her friend’s head with her hand. Mako’s restlessness seemed to stop. All over? Either way, the hand stayed there as sleep enveloped its owner once more.