Ficbits No. Five
Well, since beeblebabe threw her proverbial hat into the proverbial ring and is writing the proverbial ficbits, what the hell, I will too. What can I say? I like doing these. I work best when I have other people expecting things of me in a timely manner.

HOW THIS WORKS:
You--yes, you, reading this entry right now, no matter how you came across it--leave a comment on this entry requesting a fandom, or a pairing, or a situation, or any reasonable combination thereof. And I will write you a short fic based on the premise you've provided, and reply to your comment with it. My ficbits tend to wind up around 300-1000 words in length, sometimes longer, and I reserve the right to fulfill your request in any way I see fit: porn, drama, comedy, bad verse, stupid parody, puppet shows, etc.
Please note that I likes me the mansmut an awful lot.
If you ask for something I can't do for whatever reason (I'm not familiar with the source material, I'm not comfortable with the source material, you're on too much crack even for me) I'll tell you so, and you can request something else.

WHAT I CAN DO:
I'm an RPG fangirl by trade, with both a PS2 and a GameCube. If it's an older game, I've almost certainly played it (unless it's a Tales games that isn't Destiny or a Persona game).
Of course, in the last few months the consoles have been hemorrhaging RPGs, so I'm currently floundering in the sudden bounty. I'm good for Suikoden 4, Star Ocean 3, and I'm about halfway through Xenosaga Ep. II; I can't remember a lot of the middle of SMT: Nocturne but I'm passingly familiar with it. If it's come out in the last three-four months and it's not on that list there, I probably haven't managed to play it yet.

I'm also good for: Silent Hill 2, Metal Gear Solid 2, some Dynasty Warriors, some Samurai Warriors, and pretty much anything by Nippon Ichi (Disgaea, Phantom Brave, La Pucelle, Rhapsody). Asking me for Katamari Damacy will probably get you shot, although it might also win you a fic that will melt your eyeballs.

I also read a fair bit of manga, and watch the occasional anime. I'm way, way, way behind on Naruto, so please, no Naruto requests this time around. I can, however, do you up all the Hikaru no Go you want, and I'm probably good for Gensomaden Saiyuuki, Matantei Loki Ragnarok, and Yami no Matsuei. I can probably fake it for the early volumes of One Piece, Bleach, and Shaman King. I've seen the Fruits Basket anime, although boy, that was a long time ago.

American comics? I read some of those. I tend to stick to independent titles and comics of the Warren Ellis Garth Ennis Alan Moore Neil Gaiman persuasion, but I'm also utterly fascinated with the DC Universe's Young Justice. Please note that I refuse to admit to the existence of the current run of Teen Titans past about issue four or so, but I'm familiar with the basics of it, and also the basics of the Outsiders. So, you know, Superboy, Impulse, Robin III, these things I can do.

I read a metric fuckton of books. SF? Fantasy? Mystery? Horror? Hey, I might just have you covered.

I watch the occasional mediocre movie. If it's SF, fantasy, or action/adventure, chances are reasonably good I've seen it. Despite watching almost no television at all I've also seen most of Buffy: The Vampire Slayer ('most' not including season seven), but I'm not entirely comfortable with the Buffster, so if you're going to go with that, go easy on me.

I consider RPS to be hysterically funny, but chances are good that if you ask for it, I'll write it. And it'll hurt you.

Basically, if I've mentioned something here on my LJ, on my site, on my old blog, or even in passing conversation with you, it's most likely fair game. The first four ficbit challenges are archived here, here, here, and here, and they will give you an idea of what I can and cannot do.

WARNINGS:
This LJ entry is likely to become very not safe for work. They always do.
This LJ entry is also likely to become positively riddled with spoilers. They always do.
One fic per person, please.

[EDIT, 3/11/2005:] I am about to have houseguests for a week and will not be writing during that time, but after that I will get back to these and finish up the uncompleted requests. Since it's been well over a week, requests are now CLOSED. I will write the ones that have been made already, but I will not accept any further requests.

[EDIT, 3/27/2005:] And done! Well, that took forever.

(Post a new comment)

	beeblebabe 2005-03-01 08:06 am UTC (link)
	Gippal/Baralai! THE BALL IS IN YOUR COURT, COW. THE BALL IS IN YOUR COURT. (Reply to this) (Thread)

tsukikoushi 2005-03-01 08:57 am UTC (link)

WHAT BALL YOU MEAN THE BALL I THOUGHT WAS LOST BECAUSE I HADN'T SEEN IT IN SO LONG ===== "Hello, Baralai's ass!" Gippal said cheerfully, swatting at it as it went by, upside-down. Baralai, currently wandering around the camp in a handstand (for lack of anything better to do), yelped out a laugh and nearly fell over. His hands dotted rapidly over the ground for a moment before he stabilized again. "Hello, Gippal the ass!" he sang in answer, one foot kicking forward and down to bounce off the top of Gippal's head. Gippal grabbed that foot before it could get away, and Baralai was forced to drop the other leg backward in order to keep his balance. Gippal stared in fascination at Baralai, balanced on his hands, his legs now scissored apart in mid-air. In the spirit of experimentation (what Al Bhed doesn't love to experiment?) Gippal forced Baralai's ankle down. Baralai let his other leg drop behind him, keeping the weight even. He ducked his head to grin at Gippal, his dark-skinned face upside-down between his elbows, and his headband fell off. Baralai swayed backward and forward again, catching the headband between two fingers. "You guys," Paine said in disapproval from the other side of the campsite, pointing the sphere camera at them. "You realize that if you break him, you'll have to pay for him, right?" "But I'd own him then, right?" Gippal said, absolutely fascinated. He pushed Baralai's ankle down a little further. Baralai's legs were a single perfectly straight line in mid-air now, his toes pointed like a dancer's, the fabric of his normally-loose pants pulled tight in the middle... Gippal quickly became fascinated with that. "Those don't go down much further, Gip," Baralai said, his voice a little thick from all the blood rushing to his head. "Really? Let's try something else, then!" Gippal burst into a perfectly lunatic grin and threw Baralai's ankle away from him as hard as he could. Baralai's hands--such tiny hands--spun frantically on the ground and Gippal was forced to throw himself backward to evade Baralai's other foot as it flew around in a sudden and deadly circle. "Like a helicopter!" Gippal said in awe, propping himself up on his elbows and watching Baralai revolve in a frantic and ultimately unstable circle. "What's a--oof--helicopter?" Baralai said, finally losing his battle with gravity and collapsing into a sand-covered pile a few feet away from Gippal. "Whoa, woozy..." "Nothing," Gippal said. "Machina." "Did you just call me a machina? Take that back, filthy heathen." "Crazy Yevonite." "Boys," Paine said, as if that was the worst insult of all. (Reply to this) (Parent)(Thread)(Expand)

(no subject) - beeblebabe, 2005-03-01 02:57 pm UTC (Expand)

(no subject) - beeblebabe, 2005-03-01 08:35 pm UTC (Expand)

(no subject) - white_aster, 2005-03-01 03:53 pm UTC (Expand)

akatonbo 2005-03-01 08:10 am UTC (link)

...resisting the temptation to ask for, like, MegaHAL/Random Word Hell, because I am just full of wrong tonight... let's see. I recall you don't do Lunar 2 (or else I'd be all over that), so... hm. Something involving Viktor and Flik that won't spoil me (any more than I already have been, whoops), given that I'm borrowing Suikoden I right now and I'm about to go get Kimberly and Tesla tomorrow? (Reply to this) (Thread)

tsukikoushi 2005-03-01 09:18 am UTC (link)

Ohh, so you want the early stuff. I can do that! ===== "It's all right, Viktor. I'll eat something later--aah! What...? VIKTOR! PUT ME DOWN!" "Nope," Viktor said, heaving the flailing and kicking Odessa over his shoulder. She promptly kneed him in the chest, and he grunted, catching her ankle in his free hand. "Sorry, general, but you gotta eat, and if I don't drag you down right now, you'll forget, just like you did last night and the night before--" He turned around to head to the kitchen area and very nearly spitted himself on the point of Flik's sword, leveled at his throat. Viktor stopped dead, his head jerking back. "Put her down," Flik suggested, his voice quiet and ominous. Odessa's helpless laughter tapered off after a moment when she realized they weren't moving, and she stopped pounding on Viktor's kidneys and twisted halfway around to see what was up. "Flik!" she gasped, struggling to be put down. Viktor's hands both tightened on her, holding her still. "Flik, what, it's all right..." "Put her down," Flik said again, a little more loudly. Viktor didn't move. From off to Flik's left there was the soft t-chak sound of a sword being loosened in its scabbard. Flik's training kicked in; he whipped around to face the noise, leveling his sword at Humphrey instead. Humphrey, his own huge sword a few inches out of its sheath, stopped and raised one eyebrow at Flik. After a moment, Flik flushed red and sheathed his sword. Once the obvious threat had abated, Viktor carefully put Odessa back on her feet. "Sorry, general," he said, brushing her down gently with one huge paw. "Guess maybe I'll go get you a tray instead, huh?" "Thank you, Viktor," Odessa said faintly, pushing her hair out of her face. (Reply to this) (Parent)

	fluffyduck 2005-03-01 08:22 am UTC (link)
	I won't be too hard on you this time... XD Gaignun/Albedo tennnssiiiioooonnn you know exactly why I'm asking for this too, I bet. (Reply to this) (Thread)

tsukikoushi 2005-03-01 09:49 am UTC (link)

I'll just bet I do know. Slightly fanonized Gaignun here, but, well. ===== He was only seventeen, the first time it happened. Seventeen and tall but still thin, his hands and feet too large for the rest of him. When the questing touch brushed feather-light against his mental shields Gaignun was distracted, sitting at a public UMN terminal and chasing down a thought. Automatically he lowered his shields and sent his greeting: (rubedo) (what is it?) (can it) (nigredo) Albedo's mental 'voice' was a tittering purr. It slid into Gaignun's open mind as smoothly as dirty silk, leaving a foul snail-trail of U-DO filth smeared across his thoughts and his name alike; Gaignun's fingers spasmed, dropping the stylus to clatter across the keypad and fall to the carpet at his feet. (awful!) he broadcast helplessly before he could clamp down on the reflexive revulsion screaming through his nerves. (awful!) (filthy!) (wrong!) and then he slammed shut the gate of his formidable mental shields, trying to force Albedo out. The contact narrowed to a faint caressing touch, but Albedo couldn't be shaken so easily, and now his laughter swirled like poison in the back of Gaignun's mind. (ahh) (nigredo) (or should I say Nigredo) (all grown up) (just like me) (what do you want) (albedo) Gaignun's upper lip slid up, baring his teeth, and he scrubbed the palms of his hands against his thighs. (what?) (can't a brother say hello to his) (kin?) (no), Gaignun thought, and "No," he said aloud, almost spat. The terminal operator looked up questioningly, and Gaignun forced himself to be quiet. (go away) (go die) (leave me) (us) (alone) (and what if I refuse?) (I told you not to leave me alone) (and you did) (you left me) A thin thread of petulance wound through Albedo's squirming laugh. (bad) (bad brothers) (stay away) Gaignun warned, his hands in fists. (stay away from us) (!me!) (ahhh) (too little too late, Nigredo) (I already know our brother is with you) (what) (hoping to finish what you started) (STAY AWAY) (ohh?) (and what if I don't want to, hmm?) (shall I come see you?) (STAY AWAY) (and rubedo) (dear sweet rubedo) (my br)(other) (shall I come) (?see?) (him too?) (DIE), Gaignun screamed, and the glass atop the UMN screen lit up green, and Albedo abruptly fell silent in his mind. Gaignun threw up every mental shield that he could muster and sat there, trembling, utterly alone in his thoughts, befouled and unable to feel a thing. (Reply to this) (Parent)(Thread)(Expand)

(no subject) - ladysisyphus, 2005-03-01 12:03 pm UTC (Expand)

(no subject) - tsukikoushi, 2005-03-06 07:06 am UTC (Expand)

(no subject) - ladysisyphus, 2005-03-06 08:47 pm UTC (Expand)

(no subject) - fluffyduck, 2005-03-01 12:40 pm UTC (Expand)

	kafziel 2005-03-01 09:45 am UTC (link)
	How about something Young Justice? Something good and funny ... with Secret, I think, and playing off the gaseous nature. Level of filth, I leave at your discretion. (Reply to this) (Thread)

tsukikoushi 2005-03-02 05:44 am UTC (link)

With Bart, of course, I can't ever resist the Bartness. ===== "Okay," Greta said, kicking her feet and scooting in closer against Bart's side, all the better to read over his shoulder. The vague outline of her figure had actually broken over him in places, leaving bits of her eddying around him. Bart, sprawled comfortably out on his belly on the carpet, turned the page. They both craned their heads down to read it. Bart finished first--of course--and waited impatiently while Greta pored over the black-and-white drawings, occasionally squealing. Once she clapped both hands over her mouth, trailing fog everywhere, then brushed her fingertips over the page and bent in to study it closely. "Okay," she finally said, her eyes wide. Bart turned the page, revealing a sprawling two-page fight scene littered with feathers and gears and flower petals. They both sucked in their breaths and Greta gasped, splaying both foggy hands uselessly out over the page and craning in until her nose nearly deformed against it. Bart, not really hampered by this, read the page through the back of Greta's head. "Yamaro-kun's touching Asamu-chan!" Greta finally announced, like she was making some great pronouncement. "Look! See?" She trailed fog over the picture and Bart leaned down and squinted where she was pointing. One of the teensy figures in the background did seem to be touching one of the others, his hand laid on the small of the other's back. "Huh. Yeah. Guess he is. What's the big deal?" Greta giggled into her hands and glanced sideways at Bart. "Yamaro-kun likes him." "Well, duh." Bart pulled back to take in the rest of the splash page, then leaned in to stare at the tiny figures again. "He's his teacher. He's supposed to like him." "Nooo, I mean, he likes him!" Greta's eyes were nearly squinched shut with glee over her crossed hands. "Like, romantically." "Huh?" Bart blinked at Greta. "I don't remember that part!" Marking their place with a finger he flipped the book closed and squinted at the number on the spine. "Did I miss a book?" "No, it's, it's..." Greta waved her hands around frantically, little misty tendrils breaking against Bart's cheeks. He sneezed. "You can just tell! If you look at how Yamaro treats him, and the way they look at each other! They're in love! They should kiss. That would be so sweet." Bart gave this some thought, flipping the book back over and squinting at the two figures again. "You're weird," he finally decided. "Asamu's totally like his son! I totally remember that part. Yamaro was talking to Heiki and he was all 'Asamu is the son I never had, and I'm responsible for him now, the good and the bad alike'. I remember that 'cause it's like how me and Max are, only Yamaro's less with the exasperation and the rolling his eyes and stuff." By this point Greta was squinting at Bart as if he'd sprouted an extra eye. "I know! Exactly! What, you didn't see it when you read that part? It was so obvious." Bart considered this, then reached out and poked Greta square in the forehead. "You're weird, and that's kinda gross. That'd be like me and Max--" He broke off there. Greta stared at Bart, and he stared back, and they both shrieked "EWWW" in unison, and then Greta said "Okay!" and Bart turned the page for her. (Reply to this) (Parent)(Thread)(Expand)

(no subject) - lcsbanana, 2005-03-02 02:54 pm UTC (Expand)

(no subject) - marici, 2005-03-03 01:42 pm UTC (Expand)

	seifaiden 2005-03-01 10:28 am UTC (link)
	Something with Krelian and Sophia. (Reply to this) (Thread)

tsukikoushi 2005-03-02 07:10 am UTC (link)

Whoo, man, blast from the past, there. ===== He didn't have the original, of course. That was lost to time, and to Nisan, and even when it had been around he'd feigned indifference to its existence. Only feigned, of course. Only feigned. In truth he'd always been desperately fascinated as Sophia's form emerged from the white canvas and coalesced, first in broad blocks of color, then in increasingly delicate brushstrokes. The night before the portrait was slated to be unveiled he had let himself into Lacan's studio and taken a picture of the portrait, and its electronic image had remained with him ever since, hidden away. He talked to it almost every night. After his work was done, when he was alone, he'd pull up the image onscreen and talk to her, talk to Sophia, telling her everything: his hopes, his dreams, his fears, his successes, his failures. Hundreds of years ago her expression had been kind and benevolent, Sophia's own gentle beauty overlaid with Lacan's overwhelming love for her; but the image that Krelian spoke to was a copy of a copy of a copy of a copy, on and on, and by now Sophia's face could have held almost any expression at all. He preferred it that way. He preferred being able to study Sophia's unreadable features and read whatever he liked to within them. This way, Sophia always agreed with him, the remnants of her painted eyes gazing favorably on Krelian's schemes. Once, and only once, years after the real Sophia and everyone else who had known her was dead, Krelian had dimmed the lights in his room and haltingly told the portrait of his feelings for her, how he'd loved her, how all he'd wanted was to be worthy of her even as Lacan had cringed and slunk away. He'd barely looked at the portrait then, stealing glances out of the corner of his eye, as if it were the real Sophia sitting there beside him. When he was done, he dared to meet her eyes. Some trick of pixels and paint caused her to weep, just then. Krelian had frozen, then gently shut off the viewscreen and sat in the dark, finally coming to terms with two ideas too monstrous to be borne: the first, that maybe she had loved him, and the second, that maybe he hadn't ever loved her at all. He fell asleep, there in his chair. The next morning the first gray hair had unspooled at his temple, and within a year the blue was entirely gone, taking with it the last of the Krelian that Sophia had known. He still talked to her every night. The oldest habits are the hardest to break. (Reply to this) (Parent)

	~!!!!!! phr00tie 2005-03-01 10:32 am UTC (link)
	Something involving James of Silent Hill 2, or chaos of Xenosaga. Or both.. eh, probably not. Take your pick XD (Reply to this) (Thread)

Re: ~!!!!!! tsukikoushi 2005-03-02 08:59 am UTC (link)

Heh. Poor, poor James. ===== The way to deal with it, he'd found, was to divide every day into smaller and smaller bits, map out his life in fragments and fill every one. He went to more movies now than he had when Mary was still... around. And television, television helped, although he often surfaced to find himself unclear on what he was watching, or who the people on the screen were, or what was happening. He forgot the show as soon as it was over and moved restlessly on to the next one, waiting for it to be time to go to bed. Still, the bright lights and cheerful voices calmed him, and often made him laugh, and filled the empty spaces. Normal people watched television. He was normal. I'm He couldn't sleep when it was dark. The darkness robbed him of sleep, left him alone with nothing but what was inside--which was nothing. He started going to bed before it got dark, falling into his light and troubled sleep with the evening sunlight still shining in his bedroom window. That worked well enough. He'd wake up at three or four in the morning and turn on all the lights in the house, put on loud music, make himself a huge breakfast and do all the dishes... once he'd found himself on hands and knees at five in the morning, scrubbing at the kitchen floor with a paper towel, and he'd made himself stop and go get in the shower instead. Normal people left that sort of work to the maids, and he was normal. I'm here He'd started going to the grocery store every day after work and buying just enough food to tide him over until the next day. When the cashiers started to recognize him--worse, when they started to look at him oddly--he started going to other grocery stores, picking a different one out of the phone book every day. He could kill an hour in the grocery store easily, reading labels, wandering the aisles, watching other people. But he was careful. He always kept one eye on his watch and forced himself to check out after an hour had passed. Better that than to be stared at. Better that than to stand out and be watched. Normal people didn't loiter in the supermarket for hours, and he was normal. I'm here, Mary All he wanted was to be left alone. The last thing he wanted was to be left alone. He didn't know what he wanted. There were so many things he didn't know. There were so many things to do. He didn't know what to do. He didn't know what he wanted. All he wanted was to be left alone. Left alone to be normal. He was normal. He was. I'm here, Mary, where He was drowning, and the very things that he clung to as a lifeline were dragging him under. On the rare occasions when he surfaced, he was dimly amazed by what he'd become, a walking waterlogged corpse, with a thin and tenuous shell of everyday normality on top. No one ever seemed to notice. Maybe it was just him. I'm here, Mary, where are He would smile if spoken to, and mouth pleasantries, all from deep under the dark water of his thoughts. It wouldn't have surprised him if brackish water poured out of his mouth when he said these inane things--but then, nothing much surprised him any more. Look at me, I'm drowning, he thought. "I'm doing fine, thanks," he said. I'm here, Mary, where are you? He came home on that Friday to that heavy dusty-brown envelope on the hallway floor. His small bag of groceries (a steak, a single potato, a can of green beans) crashed to the floor, forgotten, and he fell to his knees to lift the envelope in both shaking hands. He nearly tore it in half trying to tear it open, and when he started to weep, he noticed. He felt the tear well up, and well over, and race down his cheek, and the walls that he hadn't seen properly in three years blurred, and even with the mystery of the letter clutched in both hands he found a moment to marvel that he was, after all, undrowned. The air felt sharp on his skin, as if it hadn't been there for years. Or perhaps it was James who hadn't been there for years. In the end, it didn't matter which. He was here now. (Reply to this) (Parent)(Thread)(Expand)

Re: ~!!!!!! - phr00tie, 2005-03-02 09:08 am UTC (Expand)

	niqaeli 2005-03-01 11:53 am UTC (link)
	Ooh, ooh, have you read the Taltos books by Brust? Cos if so, dude, Norathar so needs fic. If not, dude, Kon-El genderfucked. Whenever, wherever, whoever, but bonus points if there's also creepy Supercest of one sort or another! (Which, totally, take however you like. I'm aware I'm INSANE. :D!) (Reply to this) (Thread)

tsukikoushi 2005-03-03 08:41 am UTC (link)

Hooray for Jhereg! I'll have you know that I dug out my copy of Yendi to refresh myself on Norathar and then promptly got lost in it. ===== "...and I can't say I think much of your so-called 'hospitality'," Norathar finished with something a little too Dragonish and reserved to be called 'gusto'. "What sort of host sits alone in his library instead of tending to his guests?" "Mm," Morrolan said, not bothering to look up from his book. "I could find a better host in the shack of a Teckla!" Morrolan turned a page. "Mm." Norathar stared at Morrolan for a long moment, then slapped her hand on Morrolan's desk. "Either you are not paying the slightest bit of attention to me, or you are a coward who wears yellow under his black and silver, or both." "I assure you I am paying you exactly as much attention as you warrant," Morrolan said. Norathar reddened and put her hand meaningfully on the hilt of her broadsword. "Perhaps you are a coward, e'Drien, but I assure you that I am not, and I take that as an insult! I ask you for satisfaction!" Morrolan sighed and marked his place with a finger, then looked up at Norathar. "If it's satisfaction you require of me, I am, of course, honor-bound to provide either a duel or an apology." He paused, then touched his free hand to his chest and bowed over it. "My lady Norathar, I am deeply and profoundly sorry for the insult I have given you, and I beg your forgiveness, even though I am unworthy of it." Norathar deflated. Morrolan went peacefully back to his book. "Coward," Norathar muttered, and spun around to glare at the door. "I am not a coward," Morrolan said, his voice almost absent, and Norathar whirled around to face him again. "I am also not a fool, and I know very well what you are trying to do. You are trying to goad me into duelling you, Lady Norathar. Furthermore, I suspect that should I be so foolhardy as to duel you, you would use your own not-inconsiderable skills with the sword to ensure that I damaged you in such a way that you could not be revivified, thereby both removing from you the onus of having to serve as Empress and providing your heirs and vassals with an excuse to make war on me. Reasonably clever, as far as e'Lanya go." By the time Morrolan was done with this little speech, Norathar was nearly purple, save for her fingers, which were white on the hilt of her blade. Morrolan paused, to see if she would say anything; her breath hissed in and out through her teeth, but otherwise she was silent. Once he had determined that she had nothing to say, Morrolan continued, "However, there are three very good reasons why your plan will not succeed, lady Norathar." "Oh?" Norathar spat. "Item the first." Morrolan held up a single finger. "I am aware of your scheme and will, therefore, do everything in my power to prevent it, even should it prove nominally damaging to my pride." "And?" Morrolan did not actually seem to move. One moment he was sitting in his desk chair with a book open before him; the next moment Blackwand crashed to the desk with a sound like thunder, half its blade out of the scabbard so that its clamor reached every mind in the room, and he was looming over it and glaring at Norathar with burning black eyes. "Item the second," he said, two fingers extending over Blackwand's black scabbard. "If you are foolish enough to duel me I will draw your soul into Blackwand and have your body preserved in ways that you cannot begin to comprehend, and I assure you that my skills are such that no matter what condition your mortal remains may be in, you will awaken in your body upon the day of your coronation, and you will go on to become Empress." Norathar was white. Morrolan eased Blackwand back into its scabbard and hung it from his belt again, then sat back down and picked up his klava, apparently considering the matter done. Norathar, however, finally collected herself enough to ask "... and the third?" "Hm? Ah." Morrolan extended three fingers around the edge of his cup of klava. "Item the third: should I kill you, Aliera would once again become the Dragon Heir, and she would proceed to make my life miserable." "I see," Norathar said, and without another word she spun on her heel and left the library. (Reply to this) (Parent)(Thread)(Expand)

(no subject) - niqaeli, 2005-03-03 11:16 am UTC (Expand)

	marici 2005-03-01 01:04 pm UTC (link)
	Bart plotting seduction? Possibly with reference to Tim for plotting advice? (Reply to this) (Thread)

tsukikoushi 2005-03-03 10:08 am UTC (link)

You get a long one, because seriously, once I start prattling about Bart, I cannot be shut up. And I loves me some Kon/Bart, I do. There's even a Tim reference for you, although I'm afraid it's kind of brief. Two comments' worth. ===== Anything was better than algebra. Kon-El was firmly convinced of this. Even Smallville was better than algebra, although the two things were kind of hard to compare, one being a mathematical system and the other being a small Kansas town, and the worst thing about algebra was that when Kon stared at the wall and started trying to decide if Smallville was, indeed, empirically worse or better than algebra, he started thinking things like 'I guess the two sides of the equation almost balance, x + Smallville/suck = x + algebra/suck', and then he pretty much wanted to shoot himself to keep himself from ever thinking anything quite so geeky again. It was bad enough that he had to wear glasses, he didn't have to think like a nerd, too. So when his cell phone rang, he nearly broke his desk grabbing for it, and then nearly broke the phone flipping it open. "Yo," he said, spinning around in his desk chair to firmly put his back to all of algebra and most of Smallville. "Hey!" Bart. "What's up? Can you talk? Well, I know you can talk, I mean, I've heard you talk before and I guess you probably haven't lost the ability or anything, unless you got attacked by some super-silence guy or something, but, you know, I mean, do you have time to talk? That's what I meant. Time. Yeah." Kon, well-used to this sort of thing by now, waited more or less patiently until Bart ran out of words. "Oh, God. Yes. Please talk to me. Anything. Save me from my homework." "Okay! Do you like flowers?" Kon, well-used to this sort of thing by now, only floundered for a moment. "Uh. They're nice, I guess. I mean, I don't like flowers as much as Kory does, but I don't hate them. Why?" "No reason. Do you like chocolate?" "... sure?" "Okay. Um. Long walks on the beach?" "... Bart?" "Candlelit dinners?" "Bart?" "Romantic movies?" "Bart." "Breakfast in bed?" "Bart!" Bart stopped. Kon could almost picture the startled expression on his face. "...what?" "What's up with this?" Kon asked suspiciously, glancing automatically at the door of his room to make sure it was still closed. "You sound like a personal ad or something." "Well, see, I was thinking--" Kon knew that was a bad sign. "--the San Francisco Library had all these books on keeping the spice in a relationship and stuff, and some of them were dumb, I mean, one of them wanted me to greet you at the door wearing nothing but Saran Wrap--" Kon's brain short-circuited. "--and, I mean, that stuff totally doesn't breathe, but anyway, I thought that maybe I ought to do something special to spice things up, bring the excitement back into our relationship--" "Bart." Bart stopped. Kon threw an agonized glance at the door to his room, then added, "Hang on a minute." "Um. Okay. I'm hanging." (Reply to this) (Parent)(Thread)(Expand)

(no subject) - tsukikoushi, 2005-03-03 10:09 am UTC (Expand)

(no subject) - marici, 2005-03-03 01:50 pm UTC (Expand)

(no subject) - tsukikoushi, 2005-03-03 06:52 pm UTC (Expand)

	startredder 2005-03-01 03:32 pm UTC (link)
	Fox Canon, Flying Lawyer!! . . . What? Okay, okay. Um. Bart and Katamari Damacy. Or Bart versus a ninja. Y'know . . . Bart. Ortheflyinglawyer. (Reply to this) (Thread)

tsukikoushi 2005-03-04 08:14 am UTC (link)

See, as far as Fox Cannon goes, I'm more of an idea cow. So Bart and Katamari Damacy for you. More or less. Further, I can't entirely take credit for this idea. beeblebabe and I came up with this idea during one of our usual hallucinatory conversations--I can't remember who came up with it first, but I remember we both ran with it, and now I've written it. God help us. It's long; two comments' worth. ===== "So you just... roll over things?" Kon squinted at the Kents' old and tiny television, currently swathed in the cords from Bart's beloved (if battered) PS2. "Yeah! See, you can go forward and back and stuff, and stuff sticks to your thingie, and the bigger your ball gets the bigger the stuff you can pick up, so--" Bart made the little green guy roll forward over a pile of chocolates, picking them all up, and there was a VROOM sound and then everything on screen was just a bit smaller. "--yeah! See, now I can pick up bigger stuff!" "Huh. Cool. Lemme try." Kon made a grab for the controller. Bart promptly hunched protectively forward over it and shoved one of his oversized hands in Kon's face, and there was a bit of a squabble, during which the time ran out on Bart's game and the Kents came perilously close to losing a couch. Still, in the end, Kon wound up both holding the controller and sitting on a thrashing Bart, and he could deal with both these things. "Ooog get off you're heavy I'm gonna die of fat clonebaby butt get OOOOOFF--" "No. ... hey, there's someone that looks like my little green guy under this table!" "Really?" Kon dropped precipitously onto the couch cushions (the couch groaned its disapproval) and half a second later Bart clawed his way out from under the couch, mussed and ruffled and covered in dust. "Try and roll over her! That's a cousin! If you can pick her up and keep her you get a bonus!" Kon promptly drove his katamari into the cousin. It bounced off her, spraying thumbtacks and paperclips everywhere, and Bart groaned and danced from foot to foot. "C'mon, you have to get bigger and then you can totally roll her up, c'mon, I wanna play..." "No, my turn." "C'mon, you suck, I wanna play." "I just started!" (Reply to this) (Parent)(Thread)(Expand)

(no subject) - tsukikoushi, 2005-03-04 08:16 am UTC (Expand)

(no subject) - startredder, 2005-03-04 02:46 pm UTC (Expand)

(no subject) - beeblebabe, 2005-03-04 02:51 pm UTC (Expand)

(no subject) - cupiecake, 2006-03-29 10:05 am UTC (Expand)

	white_aster 2005-03-01 03:57 pm UTC (link)
	Shadow Hearts? Yuri of some kind? Yuri/Joachim? Yuri/Kurando? Melt my brain, please! (Reply to this) (Thread)

	tsukikoushi 2005-03-02 07:21 am UTC (link)
	Gack. Alas, I have not played Shadow Hearts. I have the second one sitting right here, and beeblebabe is promising to send me the first one soon, but... not yet. Feel free to request something else. ^^; (Reply to this) (Parent)(Thread)(Expand)

(no subject) - white_aster, 2005-03-02 04:49 pm UTC (Expand)

(no subject) - tsukikoushi, 2005-03-04 09:53 am UTC (Expand)

(no subject) - white_aster, 2005-03-04 03:49 pm UTC (Expand)

	drmoonpants 2005-03-01 04:52 pm UTC (link)
	DO YOU DARE SUMMON THE BRILLIANCY (and, uh, the back issues) TO WRITE ME KING MOB/FANNY/ROBIN? DO YOU?? ...'cause if you do that'd be neato. But if not, you can tell me about Tatsumi and kittens! Picture that last sentence said in a perfect GIR-voice. (Reply to this) (Thread)

tsukikoushi 2005-03-05 09:24 am UTC (link)

The best thing about writing the Invisibles is that even if it doesn't make any sense, it still makes sense. ... I'm so sick. Ka-hack cough. ===== "May I have this one, darling?" Fanny asked lazily, reaching out to pluck one of the tiny bows from Robin's ragged, ragged hair without waiting for an answer. "Something to remember this by?" "Mmmm," Robin murmured in assent, stretching lazily and feeling the last sparks of mercuric lightning arc from her spine to the damp bedclothes. They were ruined, and more than ruined, they'd have to be burnt to destroy the secrets writ on them in sweat and blood and come; fortunately they'd be leaving tonight and could light the place up on their way out. Jack would like that, she thought. Or maybe he wouldn't. It didn't matter. "What I don't understand," she went on, reaching up to hold the tiny wooden hand of one of the cherubs carved into the headboard, "is why I had to wear this," reaching down to run a finger of her other hand up along the heavy black shaft still jutting in two directions from her crotch, in and out, "when you've still got one that--mm--came with the package..." "Because I'm not here, remember?" Fanny said ever so patiently. Her form wriggled and buzzed with static for a moment, as if reminded. "I'm in New York three years ago, stoned out of my mind on the powdered essence of 3:13 in the morning, and fulfilling the promise we'll make twenty-four years from now, so that when I'm born I'll be the proper sex." "Time is a loop, then," said Robin. "Time is an ocean without salt," said King Mob, and yawned. "Time is a child with blocks. Time is a paradox. ... did that rhyme?" Something pinged over by the empty fireplace, glittering like gold. "Rhymed but didn't scan," said Robin, and then lifted her head from the destroyed pillow. "Fanny, if you're not here, how did you take my ribbon?" "Magic, darling," said Fanny, and then she winked out, leaving a scorch mark the exact shape of her curled-up body splayed over the sheets and Robin's legs alike. (Reply to this) (Parent)(Thread)(Expand)

(no subject) - ladysisyphus, 2005-03-05 09:37 am UTC (Expand)

(no subject) - tsukikoushi, 2005-03-05 09:40 am UTC (Expand)

	gisho 2005-03-01 06:00 pm UTC (link)
	Matantei Loki Ragnarok! Something involving Yamino and his mommy, assuming you've read the manga. If not, er, something involving Yamino and his daddy. Alternately, Sandman, Rose Walker as far into the future as you feel you can reasonably take her. (Reply to this) (Thread)

tsukikoushi 2005-03-06 11:12 am UTC (link)

Alas, no manga, just the anime. So Yamino and his daddy it is, although possibly not in the way you meant. You also get a really long one, because I've been meaning to write a fic more or less just like this for about a year now, and finally managed to goad myself into it. Two comments' worth. ===== Yamino's fingertips collided with the side of the teacup he'd been reaching for. The teacup jumped off the table to shatter on the floor, and everybody in the room jumped at the sharp cracking sound; Yamino yelped and scurried for the broom and dustpan. His shoulder hit the doorframe on the way out. Loki's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. When the mess had been dealt with, the rest of tea cleared away, and Fenrir shooed out into the backyard, Loki cleared his throat. Yamino looked up at him, questioningly. Loki considered his son for a moment, then folded his hands together on his desk. "Yamino-kun." "Ah. Loki-sama?" "What is it that you are not telling me?" "I--" Yamino laughed, a soft embarrassed sound, and ducked his head. "--oh dear. Is it that noticeable?" "You knocked the teacup off the table. You hit your shoulder on the doorframe. Yesterday you hit your head on the underside of the kitchen counter, and unless I am gravely mistaken, that is a knife cut on the ball of your thumb. You were never clumsy, not like this. Yamino-kun, what is going on?" "Ah." Yamino hesitated, then looked back up. "Loki-sama. I..." He trailed off. Suddenly and with great formality, Yamino clasped his hands together in front of his chest and bowed over them. "Loki-sama! If it is not too much trouble I would like to request a day off!" "A day off?" Loki frowned slightly. "You've never asked for a day off before. What..." He trailed off there and looked, really looked, at his son. The little lines that bracketed his mouth were slightly deeper, and Yamino had grown crow's feet at the corners of his eyes, which had an odd dull sheen he'd never seen before... "Ah," he breathed. "I see. Or, more to the point, you don't see." "No, Loki-sama. Not very well," Yamino admitted. "Fine, fine," Loki said irritably, dismissing the whole situation with a wave of his hand. "Take tomorrow off." "You'll be all right?" Yamino pushed up his spectacles, now distinctly nervous. "I realize it's a terrible imposition to leave you on your own--" "Yamino-kun." Loki narrowed his eyes. Yamino meeped and shut up. "I think I'm perfectly capable of surviving without you for twenty-four hours." "Y-yes, Loki-sama." ===== Early the next morning a extraordinarily tall and slender man, no longer young, disembarked from a cab at a location that was miles away from anything except the sea. He politely thanked the openly dubious driver and, a moment later, nearly tripped over the curb. Still, there was no harm done, and after a flurry of apologies and protests the cabby hesitantly accepted his fare (and his extraordinarily generous tip) and drove away. He needs his prescription checked, the cabby thought to himself, watching the man dwindle to a reasonable size in his rearview mirror. The man watched him go, then turned around and headed towards the lulling sound of the water. ===== "Daddy! Daddy! What's screaming, Daddy?" "This--unh--infernal plastic box on the wall--rgh--it doesn't like smoke, apparently--" reet! reet! reet! reet! "Be quiet, you box!--Fenrir." "'a'y?" "If you think you can make off with my toast while I am distracted, I urge you to think again." ===== Ten minutes later all that was left of the man was a pile of neatly-folded clothes, wrapped carefully in a plastic bag to preserve them from the dampness and set high on a rock overlooking the sea. It was to be a day of extraordinarily high tides. ===== "This is good, Daddy!" "..." "See, we don't need Brother after all! We'll be just fine on our own!" "... Fenrir, Yamino-kun made this and left it in the refrigerator." "... oh." (Reply to this) (Parent)(Thread)(Expand)

(no subject) - tsukikoushi, 2005-03-06 11:13 am UTC (Expand)

(no subject) - gisho, 2005-03-07 03:47 pm UTC (Expand)

	chaobell 2005-03-01 06:01 pm UTC (link)
	Cliff. Albel. Alternate costumes. Go! (Reply to this) (Thread)

tsukikoushi 2005-03-07 05:03 am UTC (link)

Ahem. BAHAHAHAHAHA. Two comments. Love me or somethin'. ===== Having learned the hard way that one did not just go barging in on Albel when Albel was off killing things in the VR chamber--there was a rapidly-healing cut on his cheek to remind him of that--Cliff paused outside the door and listened. No banging, screaming, roaring, thudding, or snarling filtered through the supposedly soundproof walls, so chances were pretty good it would be--well, not safe exactly. As close to safe as interrupting Albel when Albel wanted to be alone as it could get. Cliff gave this some consideration and then let himself into the other VR chamber, next to the one Albel was currently monopolizing. "Computer, executive override, voice code: Cliff Fitter," he told the bare walls. "Override acknowledged," the Diplo's computer said. "Computer, surveillance mode. Duplicate chamber 2 in chamber 1, include all. Visual and audio only." "Acknowledged. Working." There was a hum, and an image of Albel faded into view in the center of the room. It wasn't what Cliff had been expecting, precisely. Instead of mounds of dead VR critters (Albel seemed to be constitutionally incapable of going a day without killing something, and Cliff approved of this, since it seemed to keep Albel... close to sane) there was just Albel, and an enormous mirrored surface. Frowning, he circled Albel and the mirror, trying to make sense out of what he was seeing. (Reply to this) (Parent)(Thread)(Expand)

(no subject) - tsukikoushi, 2005-03-07 05:03 am UTC (Expand)

(no subject) - chaobell, 2005-03-07 05:18 am UTC (Expand)

	chibaraki 2005-03-01 07:02 pm UTC (link)
	NOT PRON for once! Etna and Flonne SCHEME, Laharl suffers. (...and isn't that how it always goes?) (Reply to this) (Thread)

tsukikoushi 2005-03-07 08:44 am UTC (link)

Always. Always, always, always how it goes. ===== "It isn't that he looks bad," Flonne said, wringing her hands. "It's just... he's so..." "Short?" suggested Etna. "Little," sighed Flonne. "Half-naked." "Underdressed!" "Scrawny." "Underfed, Etna-san, be fair!" "I'm a demon. I'm not supposed to be fair. And Laharl is short, scrawny, badly and barely dressed, and scraggly." "Etna-san!" Flonne clapped both hands over her mouth, shocked and appalled. "You shouldn't talk about poor Laharl-sama that way! He can't help it that he's... he's..." "A prepubescent fashion victim." "No!... ah. Yes." Flonne hung her head. Etna tucked both hands behind her head and twirled her tail absently. "You should have met his father! Now there was a man who knew how to dress. But you're right, Laharl needs help." "Ah! Etna-san! I know!" Flonne clapped her hands together, beaming. "We could give Laharl-sama a makeover!" "Huh?" Etna quirked a disbelieving eyebrow at Flonne. "What for? Sounds like work." "Because!" Flonne stomped her foot. "Because... ah... well, because no one in the demon world dresses as well as Etna-san! And I've been doing some research--" Flonne popped out of the room in a flurry of wings, reappeared, and dumped a huge pile of manga at Etna's feet. "--and I bet that together we could make Laharl properly impressive!" "Ehhh..." But Etna sat up and picked up one of the books, idly flipping through it. "Can't hurt to think about it, I suppose." ===== "A trenchcoat, Etna-san! All the best villains have trenchcoats!" "Lots of demons wear capes, too. We could get him one with those big shoulder-guards." "And, and, and, platform boots! I bet if they were all black no one would notice that Laharl-sama was wearing them, and they would make him taller!" "Got to do something about that hair. Suppose he could grow it long, or slick it all back, like this guy does." "Ohh, and he needs a mask or something!" "And leather pants. Definitely." "Etna-san! You're awful! ...do you really think so?" "Definitely. They'll hide those scrawny little legs." "Um. Okay. So, should he have a mask, or should we get him little glasses instead?" "Ehh, get him both and we can decide later. Just add everything to the list." "Oh, oh, oh, or we could get him an eyepatch instead! That would look very scary." "Wings. Definitely wings. Big black ones." "And big scary claws!" "Huh. This guy has a lot of bandages on. I didn't know that was scary. Look..." "KYAAAAAA!" "... right, adding bandages to the list." "Don't do that, Etna-san! ... AAA put that one down! Please don't look at that!!" "What, this? ... heh. Heh heh heh. Aah, Flonne. It's always the quiet ones." "Oh, I'm so embarrassed... but I suppose that is scary..." "Right! Leather harness and lots of chains! On the list!" "Oh my goodness, this is so embarrassing..." "Eh? What does your goodness have to do with anything? Especially with a book like this..." ===== Etna shoved her way up to Laharl's throne and stood in front of it, crossing her arms over her chest and thoroughly disrupting his view of his minions. "Hey. Laharl." Laharl scowled up at her. "Eh? What?" "C'mere." Not really waiting for an answer, Etna grabbed Laharl's ear and dragged him off in the general direction of his bedroom. Laharl snarled and spat and fought right up until the moment when Etna dragged him out of sight of the demons clustered in the throne room, at which point there was a loud 'clonk' (such as might be produced by an angelic frying pan hitting a demon overlord very hard in the head) and Laharl, abruptly, was silent. ===== "Okay! He's cooperative! So what do we try on him first, Etna-san?" "Eh, I dunno. Let's just put it all on him and then take off whatever doesn't look right." "Aah, Etna-san, you're so smart." (Reply to this) (Parent)(Thread)(Expand)

(no subject) - chibaraki, 2005-03-07 08:52 am UTC (Expand)

(no subject) - tsukikoushi, 2005-03-07 08:53 am UTC (Expand)

(no subject) - chibaraki, 2005-03-07 08:55 am UTC (Expand)

	coloredink 2005-03-01 07:38 pm UTC (link)
	Something with Bart! And maybe Kon! Being cute! Please? Oh, and there should be a kitten in there somewhere. That would be awesome. (Reply to this) (Thread)

tsukikoushi 2005-03-07 08:34 pm UTC (link)

Yay for kittens! Based on a cat I actually knew once. ===== "That kitten," Bart proclaimed, pointing one shaking finger in the direction of the fuzzy little gray ball curled up on the couch, "is evil." Kon shot him a withering look and held out his own finger for the kitten to sniff. "Don't be stupid." "Nope, nope, totally evil, and I know from evil. I'm a superhero. I've been trained. That kitten is evil." "It's cute, is what it is." "Don't let it bite you! Its evil might be catching!" "Shut up, you freak of nature." The kitten gave Kon's finger one last desultory sniff and then put its head back down, closing its eyes and stretching all four legs straight out. Kon succumbed to his urge to say "Aww" and reached over to scratch the kitten's exposed side. It was like sticking his hand into a bear trap. There was a silent blur of gray and suddenly the kitten was wrapped around his hand, the claws of all four paws sunk deep into his flesh, its needle-sharp little teeth sunk deep into the meat of his thumb. Kon yowled and tried to shake it off, his TTK shield automatically flaring into existence; unfortunately for him the kitten was stapled so deeply into his hand that the TTK initially accepted it as part of him, rather than an assailant. Suddenly there was a homicidal death kitten bound to his wrist, trying its damndest to chew off a hunk of his flesh. "Get it off!" Kon yelled in Bart's direction, shaking his hand frantically and, really, only pissing the kitten off further. Bart, who was plastered against the wall in terror, swallowed, nodded, and vanished. Kon pried gingerly at the kitten's limbs, trying to peel it loose without hurting it; the kitten, having other ideas, just clung more tightly. Bart popped back into existence a moment later with a little felt mouse clutched in one hand. "Uh... here kitty," Bart said, inching closer and tossing the mouse towards the kitten in a gentle arc. The kitten immediately dropped Kon's hand and fell on the mouse in a blur of ferocious gray fur. Felt, stuffing, and catnip went everywhere. "Evil," Bart intoned, once again hugging the wall and cringing as the gray blur of doom went rocketing by. "Told you." (Reply to this) (Parent)(Thread)(Expand)

(no subject) - coloredink, 2005-03-07 08:50 pm UTC (Expand)

	camel_pimp 2005-03-01 08:01 pm UTC (link)
	Stahn murdering the rest of the cast. (Reply to this) (Thread)

tsukikoushi 2005-03-07 09:18 pm UTC (link)

"I am not a spade," Dymlos informed Stahn testily. "Stop that at once." "Huh? Oh! Sorry, Dymlos. It's just--" Stahn poked at the floating layer of earth over his head again, burying Dymlos' tip into it. "--I don't see why we can't just dig up through this. It's just dirt, right?" "Stop that," Dymlos said again, shivering grumpily in Stahn's grip. "It's bad enough when you jam me into the ground to do that Hellfire attack. Now you're just doing it to be rude. Stop that and put me away." Stahn was quiet. After a moment he brought up the lantern in his other hand, studying the Aethersphere over his head. He ticked Dymlos' tip off a pebble embedded in the earth. The pebble clicked to his feet and bounced away, clattering along until it bounced off the heel of Rutee's boot. Rutee scowled and kicked it away and went back to ignoring Stahn (which she was good at). "Stahn, whatever you're thinking, stop thinking it--" Dymlos started to say. "We'll be through this in no time! Hang on!" Stahn closed his eyes, flipped Dymlos over, and grabbed the hilt in both hands. "Hellfire!" he shouted, and sank Dymlos deep into the earth over his head. Earth and lava exploded over his head-- The next thing Stahn knew, he was waking up back in the inn at Moreau. It was easy to convince himself it had just been a nightmare, until he ran downstairs to join the rest of the party and Rutee stopped ignoring him long enough to smack the back of his head. (Reply to this) (Parent)

	nekoleo 2005-03-01 09:03 pm UTC (link)
	Mustadio, prepared to taste. (Reply to this) (Thread)

tsukikoushi 2005-03-08 07:28 am UTC (link)

... chilled and decanted, apparently. ===== Ramza, of course, being both absurdly noble and the team leader, got a room all to himself and a hot bath brought up to it whenever he asked for one. The women in the party shared the smaller of the common rooms and generally pooled their money to have a hot bath of their own brought up, which they would then share (and don't think there weren't some raunchy jokes made about that, right up until the time Agrias nearly gave poor garrulous Fordham a concussion). For everyone else, well, there was the pump-room in the back yard, right off the kitchen door, and what it lacked in ambiance and hot water (and roof) it made up for in, well, being free. As far as Mustadio was concerned, you couldn't beat free. A little hard work over the pump handle and he had a trough full of clean water to wash in, and the two walls around the pump actually gave him a modicum of privacy, and, well, so the pump-room didn't actually have a roof, but that was all to the good. If it was sunny it would heat the water a little for him; if it was raining it would be like an extra warm shower; and if it was cold outside, he'd just bring a bucket of water up to the common room and clean up there. No problem. Everything was fine. Stripping off to the waist he crouched in front of the water trough and splashed water on his chest and shoulders, then leaned forward and plunged his head into the water. Bracing, he thought, overcoming his initial urge to call it 'GAH fucking COLD!'. He threw his head back, plastering wet hair to his scalp and down the back of his neck--wet, it went from the color of wheat to the color of raw honey--and lashing a long stripe of water down the wall behind him. A quick glance out the doorway to make sure he wasn't being stared at and he wriggled his overalls down to ride perilously low on his hips. Oh, this was going to be cold--dipping both hands into the trough he brought out a double handful of water. He waited optimistically for a moment in the vain hope that the water would take on some of the warmth of his hands. Instead, his hands chilled to the bone. Squeezing his eyes shut and biting at the corner of his lower lip Mustadio thrust both hands and their cargo into his pants. He was proud of himself: he only yowled a little before the worst was over and then he was able to get on with the business of scrubbing himself clean. Intent on finishing up before he froze to death or, worse, his pants fell off, he didn't really hear the window above the pump room open, until one of his little grumbled curses drew a stifled laugh from somewhere above his head. "Wouldn't it be easier just to take those off?" Ramza asked, leaning his crossed arms on the windowsill and smiling down at him. "They're going to be all wet now." Mustadio leaned back against the pump room wall and squinted up at his boss. "Well, sure, but then I have to worry about one of the kitchen maids coming out that door--" Mustadio pointed. His pants nearly fell off from the motion, clearing his hips to hang useless about his thighs, and he had to grab for them again. "--and having a screaming fit, right? Once I'm clean I'll change into those--" he pointed at his spare overalls, folded up on a barrel "--and wash these--" he grabbed for his falling pants again "--and ta da, everything's peachy." Ramza laughed sheepishly and ducked his head. Mustadio couldn't help but grin back, leaning back against the wall made warm from the afternoon sun and letting the water dry on his skin. "Engineers," Ramza told the world, his mouth in a wry twist. "Come up to my room when you're done? I need to talk to you about... a thing or two." "Sure thing, boss," Mustadio said, lifting one hand to salute, and that made his pants fall off for good, puddling wet and useless about his ankles. Ramza nearly choked on a laugh before he retreated, leaving the window open. (Reply to this) (Parent)(Thread)(Expand)

(no subject) - nekoleo, 2005-03-08 02:12 pm UTC (Expand)

(no subject) - tsukikoushi, 2005-03-08 06:55 pm UTC (Expand)

	shinkako 2005-03-01 09:36 pm UTC (link)
	I love it when you do this, have I told you that yet? To mix things up (since my last few requests have all been Suikoden...), I request anything involving Touya Akira. Because he's just adorable like that. ~<3 (Reply to this) (Thread)

tsukikoushi 2005-03-09 05:10 am UTC (link)

And, well, I have such a crush on Touya-meijin... ===== "All in all, however, well-played." The elder Touya swept a handful of his white stones into their bowl, the lines around his mouth deepening as he did not quite smile. "With the two stones you placed at the beginning, a loss of three moku. Excellent." "Ah. Thank you." Akira dug his fingers into his knees and stared blindly down at the goban, making no move to clear away his black stones. Touya-meijin picked the last few white stones out of the pattern on the goban and dropped them into the bowl. "What is it, Akira?" Akira closed his eyes and swallowed. "Father, I would..." He trailed off, then squeezed his eyes tightly shut and dipped his head. "Please, I would like to play an even match." "An even match?" Touya-meijin echoed, tucking his hands into his sleeves and studying Akira's face. "If that's what you want." "Yes. Yes, I..." Akira looked up. "Sometimes when I play I find myself relying on those two stones. You'll eat away at my territory and I'll think 'At least I have those two stones. I may still be able to come out ahead.'" Belatedly he began to clear the black stones from the goban, sweeping his hand slowly over the board. "It's making me weak. It's weakening my go." Touya-meijin said nothing. "I need to kick that crutch out from underneath myself," Akira said, putting the cover on the bowl of black stones and putting them on the goban. "I may still lose to you, but when I have nothing to fall back on--" "--you'll be forced to throw everything you have into the game?" his father finished for him, and Akira glanced up at his father from under his bangs and nodded. Touya-meijin watched his son's face for a moment and then almost, almost smiled. "Very well." He placed the bowl of white stones on the board and picked up the black ones, settling them into their spot by his knee as Akira did the same with the white stones. Inclining his head, he said, "Please." Akira caught his breath, and then bowed to his father. "Please." His fingers were trembling, just a bit, but when he dug them into the stones, they stopped. Touya-meijin plucked a black stone from his bowl and held it close to his chest, considering the goban. "I'm proud of you, Akira," he said quietly, and even as Akira's head jerked up in shock the faint smile fell off Touya-meijin's face, and his first stone slammed into the lower right star. (Reply to this) (Parent)(Thread)(Expand)

(no subject) - shinkako, 2005-03-09 06:13 am UTC (Expand)

	sekiria 2005-03-01 09:54 pm UTC (link)
	any characters from Transmetropolitan + channeling the style of ... Terry Pratchett (Reply to this) (Thread)

tsukikoushi 2005-03-09 08:15 pm UTC (link)

Surprisingly, easier than I thought it would be. ===== Fred Christ was not having a good day. This, in and of itself, was unusual enough. For Fred Christ, most days were, in fact, good days. Wake up late, have a nice shag before drinking breakfast, make up some bullshit and claim it to be gospel, have a nice pre-lunch shag, drink lunch, go bestow his glorious presence on his rapidly-graying masses, have a nice afternoon shag, take a nap, have a nice pre-dinner shag, drink dinner, control the destinies of a few hundred people, have a nice evening shag, fall asleep under the warm grayish mass of the person or people he'd just finished shagging, sleep for eleven or twelve hours, start the whole process all over again with a nice shag. There might be a better way to spend your days, but Fred Christ had never found it. Generally his worst problem was the slight itch across his scalp as another inch of his hair fell out or one or another of his venereal diseases speaking up to remind him that they were still here, clinging to their foothold of what was left of his human side. Going entirely gray supposedly would cure that. Fred Christ couldn't wait. But right now, he had his gray eye closed, all the better to read Spider's editorial, and he could feel his blood pounding in his human temple. Oh, he supposed it could have been worse, but if there was one thing he hated, it was being dismissed as a harmless lunatic. He was a harmless sex fiend, thank you very much. Well, all right, if he ran across a bit he fancied who preferred them loony, he might pretend to be a lunatic, but that was entirely beside the point. Still, if pressed, he had to grudgingly admit that the editorial had more or less preserved most of his people from becoming unattractive little smears of gray matter in the street, and so he supposed he could do the messianic thing, be magnanimous, and forgive Spider. After all, every woman that had survived the riots was one more woman he could still shag. (Reply to this) (Parent)

	usomitai 2005-03-02 12:29 am UTC (link)
	I love these. <3 Since you've tempted me, I'll stab: have you read Bujold's Vorkosigan series? Miles/Mark would be hilarious but if that's TOO IMPOSSIBLE (I know it is for me) having them just muck around (post-A Civil Campaign-ish) would be dandy. If no, well, anything with HikaGo's Ogata. (Reply to this) (Thread)

tsukikoushi 2005-03-21 04:04 am UTC (link)

Finally getting back to these: cripes, you ask me for two of the most well-rounded and well-developed characters in existence! This may come out a bit OOC, because I'm so totally not Ms. Bujold. *rereads A Civil Campaign right quick* ===== A scrabbling turd, the size of Mark's thumb, hit the pile of flimsies he was reading through at breakfast. Mark (who could not possibly be more inured to this sort of thing) simply picked up his coffee mug, tossed off the rest of the contents, and upended it over the butter bug before it could escape, trapping it. "That," Miles said in a tone not too far away from subarctic, "was on my pillow this morning." "Huh," Mark said, and turned over the flimsy he'd just finished. "I thought you and Enrique moved the last of those out of Vorkosigan House months ago," Miles went on, icily. "So where did this one come from?" Mark stopped chewing in the middle of a bite of biscuit and slowly flipped the coffee mug back over, picking the ugly brown bug up gingerly between his thumb and his forefinger. "Now that you mention it..." "Where did it come from, Mark?" Miles repeated. "Enrique counted them all before we left and again when we arrived," Mark mused, flipping the bug over and watching its tiny legs flail at the air. "There weren't any missing." "Where did it come from, Mark?" "So this has to be one of the ones that escaped during the, er, confusion... but those should be long dead by now. And those were sterile, so they can't possibly have reproduced..." "Where did it come from, Mark?" "I don't know." Mark eyed the thing confusedly. "Unless..." "Unless?" "Unless one of our escapees was from the experimental group bred to consume native Barrayaran plants. Some of those had some interesting mutations... ah ha." "Ah ha?" Miles was starting to sound like a thoroughly upset broken recording. "Ah ha," Mark confirmed, using the tine of his fork to gently lift up a goo-encrusted plate under the bug's abdomen. Miles looked a little ill. "Definitely one of our mutants. See here? That's an egg sac." "Egg sac?" Very broken. "Congratulations," Mark said dryly, dumping the offending bug into his coffee mug again. "You've acquired a thriving colony of your very own butter bugs, and, may I add, completely free of charge." "Colony?" Miles' chin jerked up as he stared at the walls of the dining room, and he broke free of the broken recording with a squawk. "You mean I have thousands of those ugly things making their butter-stuff in the walls of Vorkosigan House?" "Hardly." Mark waved that away. "They wouldn't find very much native Barrayaran vegetation to eat inside the walls. I suspect you've got no more than a couple of hundred." "Oh, a couple of hundred, that's such a relief." Miles scowled down at the creature scrabbling at the sides of Mark's empty coffee cup. "At least they probably won't be chewing through the support beams like termites." Mark stopped chewing again. Miles eyed him askance. "They won't be chewing through the House's support beams, right?" "Support beams?" Mark swallowed his bite of biscuit, picked up the coffee mug, and studied the bug scrabbling around in a coffee puddle. "Made from... native Barrayaran timber, right?" "... you unbelievable asshole." Miles shot out a hand and gestured frantically at the walls. "There are thousands of your turd bugs eating the insides of Vorkosigan House! My parents' House is being held up not by wooden support beams but by bug crap! My home is made of butter!" "Our parents' House," Mark reminded him, picking up the coffee mug and covering it with his free hand. "Look, stop panicking. I'll talk to Enrique this afternoon and we'll take care of your little infestation." "You'd better," Miles snapped, now nearly purple. "For a reasonable price," Mark added, and then found it prudent to beat a hasty retreat, coffee mug and bug still firmly in hand. (Reply to this) (Parent)(Thread)(Expand)

(no subject) - usomitai, 2005-03-21 04:15 am UTC (Expand)

	traffic_cone 2005-03-02 12:36 am UTC (link)
	ooh ooh ooh um um um. I want, um, see last time, plus an Embarrassing Situation of some sort. No other details, as I want to see what you come up with. :D (Reply to this) (Thread)

tsukikoushi 2005-03-22 05:39 am UTC (link)

*checks last time* Oh, I see, I didn't make it embarrassing enough for you last time, is that it? Laa~ ===== "Can you believe, boss, that Morrolan actually likes it this way?" "All too well," I gritted out, bending my wrist painfully to bring the second lockpick to bear on the shackle around my left wrist. What I actually told Loiosh was "That's not important right now. Has Kragar showed up yet?" "I don't see him--" Loiosh's mental voice abruptly cut off, then returned a moment later, sounding a bit sheepish. "--he's here, boss. I didn't--" "--see him arrive," I finished for my familiar, my sweaty fingers slipping on the lockpick and nearly fouling the whole thing up. "Give him the signal to get started. By the time he's got the door open I should be out of my shackles." And not in quite such an embarrassing position, I added to myself, as the shackle fell off my left wrist to thump silently into the carpet. Things never work out like we expect them to, however, and I was still struggling with the right shackle and swearing when the door popped off its hinges and Loiosh flew in. He nearly flew straight into the bed's footboard after a single glance at me, which I took as a bad sign. "Shut up, Loiosh," I thought, preemptively. Out loud I said "Kragar! Where the hell are you?" "Right here," someone said from far too close to my right elbow, and if I'd had any of my weapons on me at the moment Kragar would have needed revivification. He didn't seem to realize how close he'd come to dying, instead studying the shackles around my ankles with something like clinical interest. "Classical star-fish," he added. "I guess you've got to expect that sort of attention to detail from a guy like Morrolan." "Shut up and help me, Kragar. We have to 'rescue' me before Morrolan shows up, or the whole plan goes to Deathsgate and then Morrolan will slap me in one of these things for real." The right shackle popped loose and for a moment I just let my exhausted arms dangle, fingers not even within three feet of the floor. "Why am I upside down, anyway?" I asked, sounding more peevish than I'd like. "Interferes with your link to the Orb," Kragar said cheerfully, working on the hasp of the lock around my right ankle, which was right around nose height on him. "Huh." I hadn't tried to call on the Orb, since my using sorcery in any capacity would have tipped Tashi off to the whole thing right there. "I'll take your word for it. Okay, fine, that's why I'm upside down. Answer me this, then: Why do Morrolan's lesser dungeons look like a high-end Jhereg brothel?" "Morrolan," Kragar said, shrugging as if that was some sort of answer. Then my right foot fell free and I suddenly had other things to think about. (Reply to this) (Parent)

haku_kaen 2005-03-02 03:08 am UTC (link)

Um... How about something taking the star of your choice (other then Snowe, since he actually has one) from Suikoden 4 and infusing them with a bit of personality. Or just a quirk, since I know it's a bit much to ask you to give a hunk of cardboard a personality in 1000 words or less. Alternately, have you played Thousand Arms? Anything from that would be nice, or anything from Tales of Destiny. (Reply to this) (Thread)

tsukikoushi 2005-03-23 07:44 am UTC (link)

And you get something vaguely porny, because there's a thing or two I've been wanting to say about Aldo, and Aldo/Ted OMG OTP. ===== He didn't realize he'd let go of the headboard and grabbed for Aldo until Aldo faltered and stopped, and then the triumphant howl of the Rune pierced the foggy veil over his mind and Ted yanked both hands away from Aldo's bare skin and turned a cheesy white with belated fear. "I'm sorry!" he said, flinging his bandaged right hand as far away from them both as he could. "I didn't mean to..." Aldo propped himself up on both elbows and eyed Ted's outflung hand thoughtfully. "So that's why," he said, mostly to himself, shoving his long hair back out of his eyes. Ted shut his eyes, suddenly exhausted. "Yes, that's why," he said, throwing his left arm across his eyes. "That, and it's dangerous, and I don't want to know what else it might do..." Aldo made a faint sound. Even though Ted's eyes were shut he could track Aldo's movements thanks to the spill of brown hair brushing over his chest, as Aldo leaned over to study his right hand. Ted clenched it into a fist. "Leave it alone," he snapped. "Hm. No," Aldo said, and he picked up Ted's right hand by the wrist. "No, I don't think I will." Ted jerked his left arm away from his eyes and blinked up at Aldo. "What--look, I've told you..." "Yes, you have," Aldo said, peeling Ted's fingers away from the palm of his hand one at a time with that same awful smiling tenacity that had worn Ted's resistance down in the first place. "And I've told you that you have to stop worrying about it." "Stop--" Ted's voice trailed off and he clenched his hand into a fist again. "You don't get it!" "No, I think I do." Aldo cleverly levered one of his own long fingers under Ted's stubby ones and peeled them all away at once, baring the palm. "You've told me which Rune this is, and what it can do, and I've seen you use it. I'm not afraid of it." "You should be," Ted snapped, frantically trying to extricate his hand from Aldo's before the man could do something else stupid. "But I'm not. See?" And Aldo closed his eyes and leaned down. A moment later the palm of Ted's hand--and the Rune--was pressed to his cheek, and the Rune was howling in Ted's mind, and Aldo squeezed his eyes shut and heaved out an unsteady breath. Ted was frozen in shock. His fingers spasmed against the side of Aldo's face, but even if Aldo hadn't trapped his hand there he probably couldn't have summoned the coordination to pull it away. "What--" Ted stuttered, and "--stop--", but by that point the Rune's howling had tapered off into a confused snarl in the back of his mind and Aldo relaxed, Ted's hand still cupped over his cheek. "...what?" Ted said again, nearly in a whisper. "I'm not afraid of it," Aldo repeated, opening his eyes and offering Ted that very same damned patient smile. "I'm not afraid of it because I'm not afraid of you." Ted closed his eyes and shivered. "You should be," he repeated. (Reply to this) (Parent)(Thread)(Expand)

(no subject) - haku_kaen, 2005-03-25 08:04 am UTC (Expand)

I WANT TO CHANGE MY ANSWER shax 2005-03-02 03:16 am UTC (link)

Occured to me that I already asked naruto_nerd for Daisy/Wendy O. pairing when she did her whole "Give me something to draw in MS-Paint with a mouse" meme. So let's go with another series that needs love! FFTA. Ritz/Shara. Sure, I could do Marche/Mewt, since that's closer to your established idiom, but looks like you've got plenty of guys to smash together in the meantime. (Reply to this) (Thread)

Re: I WANT TO CHANGE MY ANSWER tsukikoushi 2005-03-23 09:15 pm UTC (link)

OMG GIRLGAY. FURRY GIRLGAY. I'LL NEVER BE CLEAN AGAIN actually, you know, surprisingly easy. ===== After she'd finished washing her hair, it had gone from what she liked to think of as its 'normal' color to almost white, stained ever so faintly pink with the remains of the dye. Downstream she could still see a few eddies and whorls of disembodied pink being swept away by the current. Ritz squeezed out the excess water and then looked at the thick wet rope of almost-white hair lying across her palms, and couldn't resist wrinkling her nose at it. "It's white," she told Shara, scraping her hair back from her face with both hands. "And I bet I can't get Vibresse Junior Miss Cotton Candy hair dye anywhere around here, either." Shara straightened up, flicking her long ears and briskly scrubbing her palms down over her bared stomach. "Probably not," she said. "If you really want to dye your hair again there are some plants you can try." Ritz sat down in the stream and splashed water on her face. Clear water pooled in the hollow of her crossed legs and she stared down into it like a makeshift mirror, her face made plump by the pull of gravity, with ropes and whorls of tangled wet white hair clinging to her cheeks and neck. "I hate my hair," she told Shara grumpily. "It's ugly. White hair is ugly." "Really? I've never thought so." Shara sat down in the water behind Ritz and gathered up a double handful of Ritz's nearly-white hair, pulling it back off her face and neck. "It suits your coloring well." Ritz leaned her head back and closed her eyes, letting Shara comb her hair back. The sun was warm and the river was cool, and it took her almost a minute to realize what she'd actually just said. Her eyes popped open. "I didn't mean your hair was ugly. I just meant... mine was. I like yours." "Mm." Shara poured a double handful of water over Ritz's hair, slicking it back into a single streaming ponytail. "And I like yours better without all the pink in it." She twisted Ritz's hair up into a damp bun for a moment, admired the neat loop, and then let it fall again. "You're much prettier this way." "Ha," Ritz said sourly, but then Shara lifted the heavy mass of her hair and ran two clawed fingers lightly down the back of Ritz's neck. "Much prettier," Shara said, her voice absent and almost clinical, and her fingers stroked back up the back of Ritz's neck, and Ritz shivered, hunched her shoulders, and stopped protesting. (Reply to this) (Parent)

	marsdragon 2005-03-02 03:20 am UTC (link)
	Well, either some proper Castlevania: Rondo of Blood or Circle of the Moon fic, or random CV hotness of whatever kind you want. I won't really mind. (Reply to this) (Thread)

tsukikoushi 2005-03-24 06:27 am UTC (link)

Going for the lesser-known Castlevania games, huh? Well, heck, I can play with that. ===== "Hey, let me see it," Hugh said, grinning, and faked a grab for the Hunter Whip newly coiled at the sixteen-year-old Nathan's hip. "What? No!" Laughing, Nathan twisted away, planting one hand squarely in Hugh's face and shoving him away. The coils of the whip flew outwards as he spun on his heel and thumped heavily against his thigh when he stopped, and for about the hundredth time that day Nathan found his free hand straying to the unaccustomed weight of the weapon strapped to his waist. It was all the distraction that Hugh needed. Laughing now he ducked past Nathan's outstretched hand and made another grab for the whip, his fingers grazing across Nathan's waist just a hand's width from the heavy handle. Nathan leaped back half a step and held up both hands to fend Hugh off, helpless to stop laughing. "Quit it, Hugh!" he said, whipping around so that the bulk of his body was between Hugh and the whip. "What if I won't?" Hugh asked, grinning widely and breathing a bit hard. "Bet I can take it away from you if I try!" He lunged at Nathan, battering Nathan's hands aside easily. Their bodies collided, and only by bracing his feet and driving his shoulder into Hugh's midsection was Nathan able to stay standing. Hugh grabbed for the whip again, straight-arming Nathan across the stomach and driving the breath out of him. "Stop," Nathan insisted breathlessly, grabbing the handle of the whip to hold it pinned to his hip. The grin was still frozen to his face, as if he'd forgotten it was there. "It's not yours." "It is if I can take it from you," Hugh said, his voice suddenly soft and silky. His own grin had grown wider, turning into a humorless baring of fangs. "And I can." The muscles in his legs bunched and he slammed into Nathan again, driving Nathan back against the wall. This time when he reached around Nathan to grab the whip his fingers actually touched the heavy metal handle and that was when Nathan punched him in the face, breaking his nose. Hugh stumbled backwards, both hands clapped to his bleeding nose. Nathan still stood half-collapsed against the wall, breathing hard, his fist still raised. The grin was finally, finally gone. "It's not yours," he repeated softly. "It should have been," Hugh said, his voice clotted and thick thanks to his broken nose, and then he spun and lurched off down the hallway, leaving a trail of coin-sized blood drops splattered on the carpet behind him. (Reply to this) (Parent)(Thread)(Expand)

(no subject) - marsdragon, 2005-03-25 10:54 pm UTC (Expand)

	torscha 2005-03-02 02:41 pm UTC (link)
	The Uzuki siblings: modernity meets the ancient world. Discuss. (Reply to this) (Thread)

tsukikoushi 2005-03-24 07:05 am UTC (link)

I did something like this when I was a kid. ===== The first indication that Jin had that all was not right was a blood-freezing crash from his parents' carefully-tended bonsai garden. By the time he'd hiked up his yukata and bolted out there--not even stopping to put on his shoes, so his socks were soaked and muddy--Shion had already knocked over another of the carefully-tended plants, kneeling on the lower level of the display shelves and digging both of her chubby toddler's paws into the dirt of the largest plant, flinging the once-pristine moss everywhere. "Shion!" Dropping his yukata Jin grabbed his three-year-old sister and hauled her bodily down off the shelves. "What are you doing? You shouldn't touch those!" "Lemme go!" Shion squealed, kicking both legs frantically and knocking a third plant off the shelves to shatter. "I'm making 'em better, lemme go!" "You don't need to make them better. They're fine just as they are." Jin struggled to carry the screaming kicking flailing Shion to the house, sparing her bare and filthy feet having to walk over the shards of broken pottery. He set her down on the long low wooden porch that wrapped around the house and left her there to throw herself to the ground and have her tantrum, picking his way back through the mess to see what he could do about salvaging the plants. The littlest one was beyond saving. The second plant to fall had fallen directly on top of it and the tiny tree was in four twisted wooden pieces, and all Jin could do was pick up the pieces and carry them to the recycler. The other two were salvageable, though, and in his hurry to repot them Jin didn't actually see what Shion had been doing until he carried the two new pots to the display shelves. A bunch of empty plastic boxes from the recycler jutted from the dirt of the largest bonsai, with wobbly windows drawn on them in red marker. One of them was carefully labeled 'VECTER'; that Shion could actually write at this age was nothing short of amazing, but her spelling still left a bit to be desired. The tiny tree itself had turned into a battleground; God knew where Shion had found the bits and scraps of wire and steel, but she'd painstakingly twisted them into tiny robots and festooned the tree with them. Tiny ESes hung from the smaller branches and stood on the larger ones, twists of wire that passed for guns pointed at each other. Jin spent a few seconds trying to figure out who was winning before he shook his head and started plucking the tiny robots from the outraged bonsai. (Reply to this) (Parent)

---