Love and Guilt

~WARNING~THE FOLLOWING IS A LES MISERABLES FAN FICTION~CONTINUE AT YOUR OWN RISK~

Eponine stood at the end of the dim hallway, listening to the patter of rain outside. Her arms were wrapped around her waist, a poor attempt of warming herself from the cold of her damp clothes. She kept her eyes on the wooden door before her. Her teeth gently ran along her bottom lip as she fought the urge to bite down on it in frustration. She took a step forward, almost wincing when a soft creak echoed down the hall. She waited, and, when she heard no movement from beyond the door, looked down at the paper in her hands, a small bit of creamy white material that she'd fought to keep dry in the downpour. Why had she done that? She knew what the letter contained, and every word tugged at her heart. She looked up at the only light in the hall, a single candle in its place on the wall. She took another step, thankful for the silence it brought, and stared at the flame. Then she raised her hand, the paper with it, and carefully balanced the thing just above the flame. Disturbed by the change in the air, the fire waved its tip dangerously close to the letter. Eponine watched as the heat from the flame singed the paper and threatened to cause more damage. This time the girl did bite her lip, and she pulled the paper away and stared at it once more. She ran her thumb along the name inked onto the white, a name she'd thought lovingly for years. She looked back at the door, and her foot twitched, ready to make the next move.

Push forward, or retreat?

Love or guilt?

He didn't need to know, did he?

She'd seen the way he looked at that girl. Eponine watched them, and she knew. She knew she'd lost him.

Eponine made her move and gently knocked on the door.

"Marius?"

Post-Revolution Depression on a Snowless Eve

Just saw Les Miserables. I really am stunned by how well they did. Sure, they changed some lines (and Amanda seyfreid or however you spell her last name was cosette) but it was a lot better than I thought it would be. Excellent work, Tom Hooper. But you are in the same boat with Steven Moffat and Eric Kripke. Way to tear out my heart, buddy.
Basically all this post is about it how much I enjoyed the movie, and that whoever reads my posts should be aware that fan fictions are on the way :P
Oh, and Colm was perfect. So very, very perfect. <3 as was Samantha. And Eddie did a pretty good job too.
Gavroche and Enjolras are forever my bbys.
Goodnight, and Merry Christmas

20. Forever We'll Defend ~ Part 3

"There are survivors, they're coming home,

they float in darkness, they're not alone,

now here they come; now here they come;

now they will be received."

Fourteen thousand aliens; and only six-hundred from my home planet. All of us have something in common: the humans attacked our planets. We crowd within the maze of caverns, the caves lit only by patches of glowing crystals that stick out of the stone. I sit in my spot, a high ledge in the jutting from the rock, watching over the scattered patches of beings. I let my feet hang off the edge, and I slowly swing them back and forth. I have my wings tucked behind me, pressed against the rocky wall. For the umpteenth time I reach into my mind and try to trigger the voice again, the one from before, but I get nothing. Well, nothing but a scaly shoulder rubbing against mine.

"Hey, Caomh," I say quietly. 

My elder brother nods but doesn't meet my eyes. He watches the crowds below. The collar of his shirt is dotted with beads of sweat, and I know that he's been at it again. Trying to find a way out.

I look away from him and stare at my knees.

"This is my fault," Caomh says softly, and it's not the first I've heard this. I shake my head.

"No, you couldn't done anything."

He looks at me, eyes violet daggers into my pools of gold. "Seti," he says simply, gently, "I'm not talking about the humans."

I toss my head again. "No. It's mine."

It's the voice's fault, I think. It lied to me.

"Ishme was my responsibility," Caomh says, "not yours. I was supposed to watch out for him, and I failed at that when I handed him to you and made you go to the ships."

"You were only thinking of us," I say, "and I don't judge you. I'm sure Ishme didn't either."

"Caomh."

My brother and I turn at the voice and see a dark-skinned girl standing over us, her arms clasped behind her back. "We need to start planning."

My brother nods and stands, but I catch his arm as he turns.

He looks at me and flashes me a small smile. "Thank you, Seti. And don't worry. The war coming will only end in our victory."

19. I Won't Rot ~ Part 3

"And there will come a time, you see

With no more tears,

and love will not break your heart,

But dismiss your fears."

The walk to the counter is terrible, but I'm able to ignore the stares, and glares, that dig into my back. I sit at one of the vacant stools, and Kish slides into the one beside me, returning to his awaiting Bud Light. I order what I want and smile despite myself as the man behind the counter sits in front of me a far-from-flat ginger ale. If anyone had to survive the zombie apocalypse, thank the Lord it's good bartenders.

My joy simmers from a flame to smoldering coals when I hear a distinct voice behind me.

I grip my glass and turn a bit on my stool, turning to face my opponent. 

"Phillip," I say.

The young man smiles a bit at me, and instead of exchanging proper greetings jumps straight to his point: what am I doing here?

I shrug and take another sip of my ginger ale. "In the area, heard of the place, thought I'd stop by."

As expected, he doesn't buy it.

"You think you can just waltz back and expect us to accept you?"

I feel Kish tense beside me, and I can hear soft murmurs in the air behind Phillip: his followers wondering who to side with, me or the leader.

"Who said I was coming back?" I say, setting down my drink. "There are plenty of other packs, you know. What's stopping me from joining one of those?"

Phillip grabs me by the wrist and holds my palm in front of him, and in the dim golden light I watch as his eyes study the star tattooed on the web of skin between my thumb and forefinger. 

He releases me, throwing my arm back down. "You wouldn't join a different pack."

I look past him at the crowd of hunters sitting at the tables. My former brothers and sisters, watching as I can either be accepted or declined. It was my choice to leave, but I don't have power over being welcomed back into the pack.

I frown at Phillip, who still stands in front of me, not nearly as mad as he could be, should be. His fists are clenched at his sides, his lips thin, tightly pressed together.

"You're right," I say, "I wouldn't."

Honestly, I don't know how I expect him to react, but I know that what followed is far at the bottom of the list. Phillip holds out his hand to me, palm up, motioning for me to take it.

"You're always welcome back, you know."

I stare at his hand, then at his face. A genuine smile sits there under his nose, something I've seen before but is seemingly foreign to me. Kish nudges my side. I look down at my knees.

"I can't feel freedom in a pack," I say, verbally refusing Phillip's hand, "I can't. I don't feel safe in numbers. I feel safe on my own."

Kish's hand rests on my shoulder, and I look up at my leader's still awaiting hand. 

"Harley," he says gently, "Honest to God, we could use you. And you could use us."

He reaches for my hand again and rests the pad of his thumb over the tattoo. "You once made a pact with us, but you left. After that, the pack wasn't the same."

"You can feel safe with us," Kish says, "but if you don't, you can always go on ahead. We'll catch up."

I look back around the room of hunters, then twist my hand in Phillip's until my palm rests against his.

"Well then," I say with a smile, "It's good to be back."

Unfortunately, the fine and dandy bit of the night fades away sooner than I'd like it to.

18. I Won't Rot ~ Part 2

"And after the storm,

I run and run as the rains come,

On my knees and out of luck,

I look up."

I lean against my truck, wanting more than anything to climb back behind the wheel and drive off. I resist the urge by tightly gripping the handle of my hatchet, which stays at my side. I glance at the sizable safe haven that's grown here. From what I've heard, four, maybe five thousand humans hide out here, safe from the roaming zombies. Miles of suburbs stretch before one can find the downtown part of this shabby excuse for a city.
I stand outside of the crowded bar, watching as the mix of intoxicated and the occasional sober stroll out of the door, out of the warm golden light and into the darkness beyond. I look towards the black, which settles on the boarded panes of empty shop windows.
"It's about time," I call as a young man appears from within the bar. I turn towards him as he approaches, a smile on his face. "I've been out here for a while," I finish.
He shakes his head at me. "You could've come inside, you know."
I make a face towards the bar and then smile back at the boy, pulling him into a small hug. "It's good to see you, Kish."
"Likewise," he says, gently tightening his hold on me, his arm against the back of my neck. Then we move away from each other, and he nods towards the lit building. "C'mon," he says, "It's cold out. You could use a drink"
As if on cue, a chorus of bellowed laughter spills from the open door, and I think about the half, maybe more of the pack that lies inside.
"Kish-"
"Harley," he says, his voice harder than mine, "C'mon. It's been too long."
My hand moves back to grip my hatchet, but I hold it against my side and nod once, moving with Kish toward the door of the bar.
I now know what it's like to stroll into the lion's den.

17. My writing habits and mishaps

Hello!! Ash here. So if you're reading this you may or may not have read something else from my blog, and you know by now that I'm all about random spazzy subjects :P You may also be wondering about some of my habits, for instance:
 ~The fact that I put italicized lines on the tops of some of my stories. If you didn't guess it, these are lyrics. Why do I put them there? Well, I get a lot of my inspiration from music, and usually said inspiration for a certain story has its own song, so I put the lyrics at the top because it sometimes sets the mood and such. If you want the name of a particular song, have no hesitation to ask. :)

Another habit~ I enjoy writing constantly about a boy and a girl. Forgive me if this just isn't your favorite type of story to read, but I really have fun writing them. Honestly, I'm not really sure why, I just do. :)

I sometimes feel like my writing is more fit for something like a screenplay or something, what with my lack of conflict and action and such. But I can't change the way I write : /

On that note, I'm probably condemning myself to no-sleep for all of these extended stories. But I assure you that they won't be abandoned, so just keep waiting for the next part :)

Welp, it's late and I have to get up early. Farewell, until morning light.

16. Doubt and Trust ~ Part 1

"Made my mistakes, let you down, 

and I can't hold on for too long,

Ran my whole life in the ground,

And I can't, I can't get up when you're gone."


"Sora, this is stupid."
I ignore my partner, tightening my hold on his hands as he tried to pull away. He groans but doesn't fight me.
"You have to focus too, Corrin," I tell him, keeping my eyes closed.
He sighs, and I can tell he's shut his eyes as well as I feel his soul gently pressuring the air around mine. I smile despite myself at our juvenile progress. Then his soul pulls away, followed by his hands from mine.
I open my eyes and look up at him as he stands.
"Corrin," I urge, "We need to practice."
He shakes his head, tousling his dark brunette hair as he says, "We've done enough. Now come on, I can almost hear your stomach growling."
I study his hand, which has outstretched towards me. I think about the cramp in my legs from having them crossed for almost three hours, and the fact that I've been fighting off a headache since we started the procedure. I'm sure Corrin is in bad shape too. I reach up and take his hand.
"Lunch?" He questions?
I nod once. "Lunch."
Unfortunately, my grumbling stomach would not be filled for another few hours.
A meister and weapon pair pass us in the hall, and they're moving pretty fast.
"What's the deal?" Corrin calls to them, and the meister turns.
"Witches. A good sized horde of 'em, in front of the school."
My brow furrows. "Strong?"
The weapon shrugs. "Some of them, maybe, but the lot of them alone are threatening."
The two sprint back down the hall. I feel Corrin's eyes on me, but I keep mine trained on my sneakers.
"Sorry," he says simply, "but I promise that we'll get dinner after this."
I meet his eyes and smile softly, reaching out my hand. "And dessert."
"And dessert."
He takes my hand and I let myself melt, shifting forms until I sit in the palm of his hand, my body a gleaming silver and black long-sword. Corrin wraps both hands around the double handle.
"Ready?" My meister asks.
"Ready," I reply.




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About this post...I really like Sora and Corrin together!! And lately I've had a lot of inspiration about partners and such and was kind of tired of continuously writing stories about a girl and a boy. (This probably won't stop, though, sorry )
Anyway, yes I like them. Together. <3
Sooooooo I brought them back. I hope their story excites any who read this.
btw this is a fanfiction.
Info:
Meisters: skilled humans who have the ability to match soul wavelengths with a weapon
Weapons (also called Eaters) : have the ability to transform into a type of weapon (ex: sword, knife, halberd). They are used to collect souls, mainly kishin eggs.
Kishin: evil :P
DWMA: where young meisters and weapons are trained to hone their skills (Death Weapon Meister Academy)
If you have any more questions, feel free to ask.