Three random drables

Just three random video game things...two Castlevania, one Katamari Damacy. Have fun.

Title: One Fine Day
Fandom: Katamari Damacy
Word count: 170

Junichi Yoshida wasn't the brightest man in the world, and he was all right with that. He had an okay apartment, a decent job at the gas station, and a gentle, easy daily grind. Tomorrow would be the same as today which was the same as yesterday and the day before, all unchanging.

One day he was pumping gas, the scent heavy in his nostrils, the hill above him seeming to bear down and ready to crush him under its weight, and he couldn't take it anymore. He asked his boss for a brief break to walk things off, and since his boss was a kind man and Junichi was a hard worker, the boss agreed.

When Junichi came back, all the cars and gas pumps were gone. This was upsetting, a disturbance of the routine. He walked out into the street to see where they had gone, was hit by a giant ball and rolled up to be part of a star.

But he found his gas pumps again.


Title: Bedtime Stories
Fandom: Castlevania (Aria of Sorrow)
Word count: 114

One night, the little girl couldn't sleep. She had tossed and turned for hours, but nothing worked. She grew lonely in her bed, and finally that was enough to convince her to brave the midnight kitchen with it's unfamiliar lights and shadows. She went to the phone, and carefully looked up the phone number she wanted by the faint moonlight, of the man who was always awake. She slowly walked back to her room and buried under her blankets, dialed the number.

"Hello? Mr. Arikado?"

"Mina? Why aren't you in bed?"

"I can't sleep. Tell me a story."

"...All right. Once, a long, long time ago, in Europe, two brave knights lived...."


Title: Pretending
Fandom: Castlevania (Symphony of the Night)
Word count: 100. Chocolate to the King of all Cosmos.
Warning: Implied slash

He wasn't Lisa. He would never be Lisa.

He was strong and hard where Lisa had been delicate and soft, straight where she had curved, rough and scarred where she had been perfect and smooth. He smelt wrong as well, of red and gold, of battle, anger, and holy, when she had been of green and growing, of forests, joy, and light.

But Richter was warm and living, and that was all the really mattered; so after the passions were spent Dracula would try and look past all that and pretend it really was Lisa he held in his arms.