Ficbit Requests

[moonsheen]

I haven't done one of these for awhile, and I'm bored, and I feel a need to be productive about something therefore. Ficbit request time! Give me a characters, series, and/or circumstance, and I shall try my merry damnedest to give you fic in return. Length is debatable. Quality will be VERY debatable. Prose will possibly be purple. Pr0n will possibly be HORRIBLY BAD. But ohgodheregoes.

Fandoms as (vaguely) listed:

Bleach
Naruto
Fullmetal Alchemist
Shamanic Princess
Kingdom Hearts (and uh, by extension. Disney. Shaddup. I LIKE MY URSULAFIC DAMNIT)
My-HiME
Samurai Champloo
Avatar: The Last Airbender (...I make no guarantees on this one though. Except that I LOVE THIS FAKE ANIME and EVERYONE NEEDS TO SEE EP 13 LIKE NOW)
Zombie Powder
D.Gray-man
The Incredibles (why not.)

Whooboy.

Comments

[starlighter.livejournal.com]

ICHIGO/RUKIA PWEASE. (^_^)

[(Anonymous)]

*stabbity death*

Bleach: The Other Side

[moonsheen.livejournal.com]

They walk back together. It seems the thing to do.

“…feh,” he says to her finally. He watches Inoue, who’d smiled at him and ran ahead. “Lucky one, aren’t you. Don’t have to go learning our earth customs anymore.”

“ ‘Earth customs…?’” She peers at him, before it dawns on her. “Ah. You didn’t show me that movie.”

He rolls his eyes. “You mean you didn’t watch it at midnight along with everything else in the house.”

She considers with a lofty tilt of her head. “I suppose not.”

“Should’ve gotten you some Reese’s Pieces.”

“What?”

“Nevermind.” He snorts. “The vending machines’ll miss your wrath.”

He cuts ahead of her, through the long grasses. Inoue waits on a rise for them to catch up a bit—her bright hair blowing over her shoulder and her arm raised above her. Rukia feels the air across her own cheeks, across her eyes. How strange it is, she thinks, how light it feels in her head now.

“…fool, you could have told me one is supposed to press a button,” she murmurs. “But then you were....”

He hears that last part. “What?”

“You seemed…young. You.” She quirks her lip around the word. “All of you.”

“Yeah?”

She lifts her eyes. “Yes,” she says, with a certainty. “Children. Brats.”

“—bitchmidget,” he replies, in turn. “You tell everyone here you spent your vacation running around with a bunch of kids like, what a tenth of your age, then…”

“Tch.”

“And I’ll tell everyone there I spent my vacation playing with all sorts of guys. Big ones. With knives--”

“Tch,” she repeats, lifting her own hand to the breeze now. Inoue’s gone on again. “Grow up well, Ichigo.”

“—Kenpachi sure found it fun—what? Sure.” He glances back. “Stay old and weird, Rukia.”

“I will make no guarantees.”

“Good.” He grins. Like a boy. Yes, very much like a boy. “Me neither.”