Fandom-Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney
Characters-Lana Skye, Mia Fey, unnamed teacher
Rating/Warnings-G. Lightly, lightly implied femslash.
Summary-Distractions always show up where they're least needed. //Kind of written for 30_distractions, though not really, as the prompt was applied after it was written.//
Word Count-415 excluding A/N.
She could not find anything in the room more interesting than the girl in the corner.
Books, notebooks, freshly sharpened pencils, other classmates—nothing could hold her mind for more than a few seconds. The teacher’s voice, normally the only thing that she focused on in class, couldn’t even keep her attention. A few moments of shaking her head, scolding herself for looking so long—honestly, she’s not that interesting, and where exactly did my manners decide to go?—and she would return to starting intently at the silent brunette sitting in a corner desk, working on some sort of menial task.
The girl herself had no particularly interesting physical traits—a few emphasized feminine characteristics, maybe, in her large breasts, but that was it (and they weren’t even disproportionally large at that, how utterly boring)—and was not dressed in a way that could give her an excuse for staring at the teacher assistant for as long as she did. No bright colors, no eccentric or attention catching pieces of clothing on; the girl had on a blouse and a pair of black slacks and that was it. Her posture was interesting-yet-uninteresting, as well—ramrod straight, as if she were standing at attention rather than sitting in a desk stapling papers.
And yet…something about the stapling girl drew her eyes like a magnet. Something—she didn’t know just what (and she really did want to figure it out, but only because that was going to be her job and practicing before she got out of college was innocent and helpful, nothing more)—perhaps she could go up after class and ask the girl’s name—
“Ms. Skye, are you planning on answering my question in the near future?”
At the mention of her surname, her head snapped back to the teacher, who was staring at her with a mixture of weariness and annoyance on his face. Silence filled the room—no one even dropped a pencil, the damned jerks—and eventually she just blushed and shook her head.
“I know it’s two weeks before finals, everyone,” the professor’s eyes went down to where his book lie open on the desk below him, “but do try and keep your mind on school until you are officially done.”
He went on lecturing, and she, despite her best efforts, could not manage much more than to half-heartedly listen while staring at her own personal distraction.
(The smirk on the girl’s face really couldn’t be completely ignored, after all.)
A/N: After a while of not writing, I guess it just kind of burst out. Like a leaking dam breaking its barriers and flooding a valley. Just a short little thing that I wrote on a whim.
Title-A Bad Kind of Crazy
Rating/Warnings-G. Maybe PG, for mentions of suicide.
Summary-Even locked away safe and sound, she still manages to find a way to tear the two almost-heroes apart.
Word Count-479 excluding A/N.
“She’s crazy, you know.”
She looks over at him. They hadn’t spoken in well over an hour, so the sentence was a little shocking. (Not the content as much as the sound, though. It’s a monotone, dead sort of sound. But she supposes that that’s to be expected, with what they both just went through.)
“I’m crazy.” She looks back out the window. “Everyone’s crazy.”
“Yeah, but she’s the bad kind.” He shifts in his position; the sound of metal clinking against stone resonates through the room for a moment. “She’s the kind that hurts people.”
“I don’t care.”
“Well, you’re not me. Soon as you are, you can make my decisions for me.” The tone is harsher than she meant it to be, but she doesn’t apologize. Apologizing is what she used to do, in the past, when it actually meant something. Now, it’s just a waste of breath. The two sit in silence again until he dares to speak:
“She’ll kill you.”
She waits a little before replying. “Fine. Let her. I don’t care anymore. Who knows? Maybe it’d be better to die.”
She thinks that he looks over at her. In any case, though, she just keeps looking out at the endless sea and the setting sun (and thinking how easy it would be to just fall and make everything go away at last).
“You’re doing this because you want her to, aren’t you?” He shifts again, his sword rubbing and scraping at the stone behind him. “Why can’t you ever just do something that doesn’t put your life in danger? Why is it that you never do something that’ll help you rather than hurt you?”
At this, she laughs.
“Oh good God in heaven, you don’t think that I actually get a choice, do you? If anything, it’s a simple one; I just need to choose whether I’m going to get my life taken away at once or whether it’ll be delayed another while.” Her soft, tinkling laughter fills the empty space around them. “It’s not like I’m ever going to get a chance to do something that will benefit me.”
At this, he falls silent. The two stare out their respective windows, her at her ocean and him at his rocky cliff. Eventually, though, when the sun has set and her face has frozen from the cold coastal air, he gets up and towers over her.
“Y’know, I don’t care what you say.” She doesn’t look up. “You have a choice to get out of this. You just…like it too much. I don’t know. And I guess I don’t care either.” He walks to the door, pauses, and sighs before adding one last thing:
“And she’s still a bad kind of crazy.”
With that, he walks out, and she decides that the fall to the cliffs below probably wouldn’t be that bad.
A/N: A random little drabble that has, more or less, no significance at all. Though, now, I do kind of want to find out the rest of the story...