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moonsheenBecause I am antsy and want distraction! (And because I am taking advantage of this when other people post it)
The first five people to comment in this post get to request that I write a drabble(or draw a doodle) of any pairing/character of their choosing. In return, they have to post this in their journal, regardless of their ability level.
The first five people to comment in this post get to request that I write a drabble
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(no subject)
Date: 2010-01-25 04:05 am (UTC)Either Narumi/Raidou or Fakir/Ahiru? :D
(no subject)
Date: 2010-02-01 02:33 am (UTC)Fakir had been working on a new book, and as such he had not been as often to the university as he might have otherwise. He regretted it the day his wife came home with a great slamming of the door. Fakir looked up from the stove to see her swing her bag and her toe shoes across the table, and stomp in a most flat-footed fashion across to his armchair. She threw herself into it with such a vehement 'QUACK' that he nearly expected her to disappear into a flurry of feathers in that instant.
She was still a woman when he handed her his cup of cocoa. It was more cocoa than any form of liquid and bitter as anything, but she downed it with one violent toss of her head. "Ahh, thank you," she had a mind to say before launching into a vengeful rasp: "...can't BELIEVE they'd still be allowed to come! It's too LATE for them anyway! There should be rules about these things!"
Fakir took the cup away before she threw it. He placed it on top of her head, to keep her from giving herself whiplash. "Duck," he said.
"Eh?"
"Full and complete sentences," he said.
"Eeeh," said his wife, hunching her shoulders rather like she wished to shake water from them. "They were out there again. I told you about them, didn't I?"
It was the first Fakir had heard about it and he told her so, adding that speaking with the sparrows on her way home did not necessarily mean he had heard the conversation. He took the cup back to the sink as she explained: "It's a whole tiding. A bad one. You know the type! A group of real loafers. They flock around the dance building around lunch and supper, all hunched and trying to look SUPER COOL. Every day for the last week, it's been."
Fakir frowned. "And they're students?"
Duck shook with irritation. "No," she honked, eyes as belligerent as a hawk's, in spite of the fact she wasn't a cousin to one in any manner whatsoever. "They're freeloaders. They beg for food and money and they bother the girls. It's shameless."
It was hard not to feel a slightly knightly feeling about the circumstance as it was described. An image came to him of mean-faced boys loitering at the corners of university buildings, harassing the girls that dared to leave. It seemed ridiculous that nothing should be done about it. "...why not mention this before?" he asked, already determined to resume meeting her after classes, manuscript or no. He resolved to do it with his favorite umbrella, whether it rained or not.
His wife hissed. "I thought they'd leave." She kicked off her plain shoes; they clanged against the grating of the fireplace. It was thankfully unlit. "They normally do, by now. But the school thinks they're CHARMING and the groundskeeper's always leaving crumbs for them, so now they think they can do anything they please!"
"Crumbs?" Fakir peered over the top of the armchair. "Duck," he said, rather firmly. "Are these men a flock of birds?"
"Of course not," said Duck. "I said before, it's a TIDING. And they don't deserve to be called birds. They're magpies." She said it in the same way she had been known to call rude men 'creepy old foxes', which told Fakir all of what she felt about this particular caste. "Just because people write poetry about them doesn't mean they're so great. Try talking to one. Fakir, NEVER WRITE ABOUT MAGPIES. Fakir—eh, Fakir, where are you going?"
"To write," he said. His wife nearly launched herself over the back of the armchair. "Don't be stupid. Not about magpies." The umbrella might be overkill, he decided, but one never knew when it might rain. "I have enough problems with ducks."
(no subject)
Date: 2010-02-01 10:40 am (UTC)This is so very charming--thank you!
(no subject)
Date: 2010-01-25 04:07 am (UTC)Might I possibly request a Yuri/Flynn drabble??
(If not, I'll keep in theme and request Raidou, Gouto and foxtails!)
(no subject)
Date: 2010-01-25 04:23 am (UTC)I'd love to see someone write a little Germany/Italy where Germany's gotta deal with MORNING WOOD and you could probably totally rock that....
;o; a-ahaha
do you like hetalia still
(no subject)
Date: 2010-01-30 06:17 am (UTC)One should think that after a time it would become easy to accept waking with an Italian in one's bed, but if there was a special guide to the circumstance Germany had yet to discover it. This morning was as much the same as the ones previous. He woke at dawn expecting that he should get up, go out, feed and walk the dogs, make breakfast and lunch for later in the day and go out. This was inevitably as barred as it always was by the addition of said Italian to one's bed. It was not even so simple as that: it was in fact the whole Republic of Italy lying on top of him. This should have been geographically impossible but this was the trouble with a place that could also be a person: a person could get away with wrapping themselves around him, and there was little Germany could do but shove a foot out of his face and consider how they had been knotted together /this/ time, and whether or not Italia had chosen to wear pants.
He had, as it happened. They were boxers and they had sunk to midway down his hips. His knee jabbed Germany in the armpit and his hair bristled against his stomach. Germany grabbed a handful of it and removed him from this territory. He had some extradition policies in place in regards to such positions.
"Venedig," he said. "Venedig move."
Italia did not seem fazed by such manhandling. In fact, it appeared that he had not been sleeping so deeply at all. He had simply chosen to stay where he was until Germany had woken up. "Oh, you are awake," he said. "Good morning, good morning. You do not mind me joining you? Oh no of course not. You look so small when you sleep, and your bed is so big and comfy it seemed so silly to not share!"
"Small?" asked Germany, who had a population of over 80 million and was somewhat bothered by this statement. He did not have too much time to object, for that was when Italia chose to invalidate all of his efforts for freedom by throwing both arms around his waist and laughing against his naval.
"Yes, you look so little and lonely. It is too bad! You should spread out, Germania. That is what beds are for, for laying in and relaxing and sometimes for eating in and other things, too." He cracked an eye open with a bit of an impish glint to it. Germany chose to ignore this. He chose to ignore a number of things. The wandering hands was one. The obvious consequences of waking up after having slept near a warm body was another. He took a hold of Italia's shoulders and, very carefully, turned him the right side up.
"That would leave crumbs, Venedig," he said, giving his waistband a bit of a tug, while he was at it.
Italia sprawled forward in a boneless land mass. "A worthy sacrifice!" he sang out. "For a good morning. The mornings are nice in Germania, aren't they? I do like them, even if there is no ocean and it is a little cool."
The dawn was red in the windows, and so were Germany's cheeks. He attempted to roll. The Italian on top of him prevented this maneuver with a merry swing of his leg. In this case Germany attempted to at least lay at a tactful angle. "That is enough."
"Why?" Italia laughed. To say he sat up would have put it too simply. He sprang, all arms and a great leap of the mattress. Germany sat up, feeling rather rescued from a particular awkwardness. "You should know your mornings are beautiful! Everyone should know when their mornings are beautiful! So maybe you are colder and your light is not as good and your weather can be as grim as your writing!" His eyes traveled over the bed, from head to foot. "The Black Forest is very nice this time of day," he said, admiringly.
What followed was, perhaps, one of the fastest German retreats in all of history. There was no one on hand to document it. Italia lay laughing in bed, and Germany beat a fast route to the shower.
HAHAHA GOD DAMMIT LOOK AT THIS IT'S AS LONG AS YOUR FILL.... I HATE MYSELF
Date: 2010-01-30 08:34 am (UTC)oh hmyhhj
HAHAHAHAGGHF
FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFI can't.... I can't even...This is beyond golden, do I need to like do a literary digest or whatever they're called. I probably will anyway.
You. You amazing little nerd (ENDEARINGLY, always endearingly! ♥), I think I might have been...nerdily turned on by your GEOGRAPHY SHOUT-OUTS HAHAHA and God Italy is so adorably EVIL--I love that in a Germany/Italy fic and it's so so LAMELY rare. And I also love the vagueness of it--that thing authors do that make you guess even when I've GIVEN you the ending. So sneaky.
Oh no I'm going to write an essay about you but really I can't believe I could ever receive something so perfect. WITHOUT MENTION OF A PENIS. You are just a STAR.
I. How am I supposed to complete your fill with this hovering over me? I'M JUST A KID. (And by the way, my mom TOTALLY snagged my laptop while I was drawing you something SHE WOULD NOT LIKE TO SEE. I got off the hook somehow, GOD SOMEHOW... But. You know. Shit was so cash.)
I have no idea what to--oh
YES
THANK YOU
THERE YOU GO
;O; /pile of goo
(no subject)
Date: 2010-01-25 04:25 am (UTC)Kristoph and the care and psychological training and, uh, maintenance of little brothers fingers aaaah
A Nation discovers they have been invaded or conquered when they check the fridge and the food's different.
Kingdom Hearts + The Princess and the Frog.
(no subject)
Date: 2010-01-25 04:45 am (UTC)except that, damn, I don't really know your fandoms?
U-um, are you familiar with anything Megaten? Then I request that, and I am not picky about pairings
(no subject)
Date: 2010-01-25 04:49 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-01-25 04:56 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-01-25 05:27 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-02-09 07:14 pm (UTC)