Wednesday, December 23, 2009

Creative Sound Blaster Extigy Windows 7

[fanfiction] Remember [PG]

Title: Remember
Author: [info] lisachanoando
Beta: [info] meggie87
Rating: PG
Pairing: Bill / Bushido (mentioned).
Genre: Comedy, Romance (mentioned).
Alerts: Slash.
Summary: The gift that Tom buy his brother Bill for Christmas turns out to be a pretext to allow Bill to have oestrus artistic outlet in unconventional ways. And there goes half a poor model of a Gundam.
Disclaimer: Apart from the obvious things that we all know to be true (like the Barbie Mermaid Bill), is completely false and so on.
Notes: Written for the Advent Calendar of Fanworld.it ♥ And for the prompt on Criticombola of Criticón 77. Remember .


REMEMBER
77. Remember

What was the reason that Tom had insisted so much for the piggy bank of china, including Simon the exact moment when the child appeared to her, wrapped in a jacket twice the size of its size . Her blond hair tangled and they were all gathered under a puffy hat and ruined it, reaching behind his neck and ending with a cheerleader who perhaps had once been smooth and round, gave him almost like a kind of Santa's small, tiny, skinny, disheveled and panting.
- What did you do all afternoon, Tomi? - Asked softly, kneeling before him and pulling the cap, and then reorder the hair on the forehead and temples - where have you been? Tom
sly smile, pulling out a gift bag from the jacket of medium size but, in her arms to him, seemed large at least twice as much.
- I found it! - Said triumphantly, waving the package wrapped in a blue bottle and dark, shiny, shimmering in the lamplight, - A gift for Bill!
Simon opened his eyes, partially softened and partially stunned. He started to ask him where he got the money to buy it - whatever it was - but there, in fact, remembered the ceramic piggy bank and how he had initially thought that blessed and fed pig from the air would not survive even a week and then watch it swell day by day with all the coins with which you, Jörg, and Gordon continued to fill it from time to time, under the eyes of the grateful and hopeful Tom nicer that Simon could remember in years of maternity satisfied ;.
And to say that Tom, in effect, that was pretty , including the twins, Bill could have been saying many things in front of his ten years of poor life - he was talented, but how to channel this His talent no one had much clearer ideas, including Bill, who was pleasantly self-deprecating, but also able to take seriously tragic and disturbingly all too easily, it was outrageous, outrageous as it may be always a child of ten years, was abusive and capricious and intelligent, but it was nice , in the broadest sense, sweet and soft and tender of the term, not just one. Bill already spoke of letting his nails grow to poke in the eye of the teasing, it is not that cute.
- Oh! - The woman nodded, scanning the air-curious son, - And what?
- A toy. - Tom said with a shrug of the shoulders, as if it were obvious. Indeed it was, but Simon could not help but feel deeply uneasy about. Bill could be so incredibly easy to injury, when it came to what others were doing to please him - its basic reasoning, although not completely absurd, it was something very much like a dry "to I do not care if you do something to make me happy, if not then you can actually make me happy , does not deserve my gratitude, but to limit a long, painful look before a tragic and dramatic sigh and run my room. "
- And that toy is? - Then asked, fearful, clutching a little 'shoulders. Tom
wrinkled her nose, irritated.
- It's a surprise, it's just for him. - Blurted out, before getting rid of her tight, put the package under the tree and climb in their own room, calling Bill a loud voice.
Simon sighed, rebounded to his feet. He thought of the Mermaid Barbie jealous that Bill kept as a guard dog, preventing anyone - including you - to approach, and hoped that Tom was already smart enough to be able to do their accounts and understand.

*

Ten years, Tom, were not quite enough. He and Bill had spent all that time together, plus the additional nine months in the womb, but they probably were not calculated in the act of the final statement, simply because it had been months cohabitation unconscious - and, if there had been the consciousness, Tom had forgotten. Was because when you're in the belly of your mother you're not able to remember, or it was because Bill had already been traumatized so much so that he had to remove all memory, not interested to find out. However
had happened, his brother Tom had always found a strange and mysterious object to be handled with care, like knives, toy guns - which were never, never, never bet against Gordon, because the dots always ended in some way to conficcarglisi shins - and cosmetic creams for his mother. He had, moreover, there is a reason why the Bill instead of all those things handled with the lightness of a rubber ball, as if they were perfectly harmless - and yes that Tom also had problems to handle the balls of rubber, which in hand seemed to him suddenly become deadly weapons designed to gut vessels, breaking windows and gutting unhappy and unfortunate goldfish bowls.
In short, there must be an affinity between Bill, knives, toy guns and cosmetic creams to Simon, and beyond the obvious that tied his brother to the last, the most great similarity that is tied to the other two types of object was certainly his ability to become something incredibly dangerous in a short period of time so that I can not in any way to take adequate measures to curb.
His brother, sitting on the carpet in front of him and sometimes illuminated by flashing lights adorning the tree, turned in his hands a model of Gundam, saving for months, had managed to buy him for Christmas, looking at it from every side as he could not even trying to make sense. Behind him, Tom Gordon could feel a pinch sound exasperated pat on the forehead, while Simon sighed deeply.
- Um, do you like? - Asked fearful, watching his brother from the bottom up after his head slightly tilted. Bill weighed as the model would try to detect the density and then sighed deeply, standing up.
- I suppose so. - Then answered, moving away towards the stairs with a meditative air.
- supposed to ...? - Tom asked, when his brother was gone upstairs, turning to look at Gordon and his mother in search of an explanation. The man shrugged and shook his head, preferring to hole up in the kitchen until the cloud of disappointment Bill had not dissipated, and Simon crouched on the carpet next to her son, gently stroking her head blonde.
- ... Your brother - tried to explain - it's a difficult kid.
Tom sighed, surrendering back against the couch and staring at the senseless doodles which decorated the carpet.
- I know. - Said broken - I sometimes wish there more like.
- You are easily convinced to be a kid? - Simone laughed, petting a little '.
- Well, 'I do not know if they are easy or difficult, but certainly not difficult as he ! - Tom blurted out, spreading his arms to the sides of the body. Simone laughed again, drawing him against himself and smoothed his hair behind her ears, then tighten in a queue just mentioned that immediately left free to fall sideways along the shoulder.
- Courage. - Urged him then, rising to his feet and pulling with him to the kitchen, - Come get some 'sweet, and then bring home a slice also your brother.

*

Tom knocked on the door and quietly waited for his brother's gave the green light before entering, placing ahead of course - that is, between himself and any kind of danger posed primarily of Bill with its claws and fangs lining peeping out between his lips, ready to strike at jugular - the pot with the sweet that his mother had prepared in the afternoon, reflecting on the possibility of using it as a distraction if he had made the tank need to flee for their lives, or at least try to sell life dearly.
His brother, however, did not seem willing to tear it. Entering the room, Tom saw him bent over his desk, surrounded by a whole number of items that typically used to destroy and redecorate again t-shirts that Simon bought him. Imagining that it should have started doing an imitation of the beautiful village seamstress as always when he felt the need to show the world wonders what his hands were capable of producing, Tom came up with a smile, putting the pot on the table beside him.
horrified - to use the more appropriate term to describe his dismay - as soon as laid eyes on Gundam, or rather on what the Gundam had become disabled after having passed through the hands of her psychotic brother. Where before
there was the sober black semi-gloss, now followed one another endless expanses of light pink nail polish is still wet, interrupted by bursts of compositions and crystal beads, when they had a shape reminiscent of flowers, and even some specific point of hearts .
- Bill ...? - He called it, visibly shaken, - What the ...? - Tried to ask, but demand remained imprisoned after all polite in his throat crushed by sincere but equally less educated "What the fuck are you doing at present that I bought you a shot in spending all my money the last few months? ". Tom struggled with himself, and was a long and difficult battle, but eventually managed to hold deep in the throat hooked him scream that he wanted to let go. Stayed that way even though the rest of the application, which is why Bill could afford to ignore it and happily pick up the Gundam, holding it carefully by the parties is not covered with enamel pink to show all their so-called and supposed glory.
- Now yes it's beautiful! - Said with enthusiasm, looking at the model with brimming eyes of love - Thank you for gift, Tomi!
Thank you for the gift - the words bounced inside his head, knocking against the walls of the skull and tumbling around, stumbling from one neuron to another, for a number of moments that seemed endless.
- Bill ... - tried to recover the use of the word, moistening his dry lips - what you did in Gundam?
- Be ', but I prepared, of course. - Bill replied, with all the naturalness of the world.
- Ready what? - Tom insisted, more and more scared.
Bill smiled as he had seen only in times of greatest happiness of his whole life.
- For the wedding! - Candid answered, going towards the basket of toys - almost always empty, because the toys preferred to be scattered on the floor, where they had much more space for, uh, stand still waiting for someone to recover it or make use place - and pulling out the Ken to her Barbie Sirena Triton was accompanied always favored, but that Bill had never taken much into consideration.
- Marriage. - Tom stammered, uncertain. - Bill, that is the boyfriend of Barbie. - Protested, in a desperate attempt to avoid the inevitable.
- Be ', Barbie wanted his independence. - Bill motivated with a shrug of the shoulders alongside Gundam Ken and looking next to each other as to verify the correctness at the level of amalgam sentimental - is a liberated woman, you know?
- Emanciche? - Asked Tom - No, look, I do not want to know, seems like a horrible thing.
Bill sighed, rolling his eyes.
- Does that mean-
- I said I do not want to know, sorry! - Tom stopped him, planting a hand over his face to keep him physically to speak again, - And yet you can not put together to Ken and Gundam, have two boys! Yuck!
- Tomi - Bill replied, laconically, - is a Gundam robot, has no sex.
- Worse! - Continued Tom, nodded decidedly, - If you do not have sex, you should not force him to mate with a Ken that one sex rather have it and how!
- But Ken did not even sex! - Bill pointed out to him, - is a newt!
- The tail is fake! - Tom said, pointing his finger at the aforementioned pseudo fish decoration.
- Yes, and under no nothing. - Bill explained, and denuded the poor puppet of the only garment that would cover the pudenda. - See? As a sock under the plastic.
- Eh, so why should two people get married asexual, I'm sorry? - Tom tried to investigate, pointing in turn to iron her pants - pink candy now - the Gundam. - I do not have any need!
- But it is a question of love, Tomi! - Bill whined, saddened by the lack of understanding that his brother showed against the romantic story.
- But how did they fall in love, if one was in the trunk and the other you have tortured with sequins covering it so far?!
Bill frowned, crossing his arms over his chest and looking at his brother with all the disapproval as she could.
- You have no respect for true love. - Said angrily, - Who cares - she added, more gently, - for what your gender or the circumstances in which you fell in love? In the end, - concluded with a smile - is not love itself that counts, more than all the rest?
Tom watched him for a few minutes, and the conviction of Bill not wavered one point, and finally available to all their puppets neatly on the desk into two distinct groups that Tom imagined to be relatives of the bride - if a was married - to the left and the right of the relatives of the bridegroom, while Ken and Gundam proudly crossed the nave, proud in their sequins and shimmering scales of their tails. Or that they were.

Many, many years later, when Bill would have got to see more often with a certain rapper pseudotunisino that had nothing to do with his person, observing the two get closer, become more intimate and then, finally, fall in love, Tom would have thought for a moment to Gundam and Ken who joined in marriage in that Christmas Eve many years ago and would definitely silenced any protest could have imagined on that relationship.
In the end, probably because Bill really had. It is love that counts, more than all the rest?

* Note. The story takes place mainly to pay homage to the history Gundam gayest - wonderful invention for which I thank the world is made up of people who are quite mad - and to satisfy the perverted minds of Tab and Meg, which in reality have plotted this story long before I decide to write, roleplay on Twitter. Faced with the wonders they give birth (as the idea of the wedding between Ken and Gundam XD), I have just been able to avoid bending to the will of the God of Fangirling, so I wrote it XD And this is my gift Christmas in the fandom of hamsters Boche Popular the story \u0026lt;3 (Bushido has run without suggested that I might in any way to stop it. Bu Bad, bad.)