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fridge_fics yo!
Sep. 14th, 2005 02:10 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
moonsheenTaking a moment to pimp mine and ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
pocky_slash's new community fridge_fics. A new fic challenge community inspired by boredom and refrigerators. C'mon, people. You know you want to check it out. ♥ THE POWER OF THE EVIL SMOOTHIE COMPELLS YOU.
In other news, I have written nastywrong sword pr0n (well as much pr0n as I can ever manage) as a gift. And I think you all need to enjoy mysecret kinks shame.
Also Benihime is a ho.
Also Bleach 195 breaks my brain.
She led the way through a darker corridor; the glow behind the panels of the endless line of doors a red one. She put one hand against a frame and pushed the next aside. Immediately liquid threatened to pool around them. She made a noise and quickly shut the door again.
“Oh, yes. That is where I keep it,” she said, with a smooth laugh to hide the awkwardness of it. “One can’t expect it all to go back to where it comes from.”
“Hm,” said her companion, listening steadily to the sound of rippling behind the paper. “Interesting effect.”
The woman turned to him in a jangle. The tassels hung from her hair, her dark sleeves, over her shoulder.
“Effect, he calls it! Your modern boy is showing.” She raised her arm, gave her wrist a fluid flick. Above, another door slid open above them. She stepped from the floor onto the wall. “All of you. So modern these days. Even Kisuke. He watches a movie now and again. And he’s old. Like me. Not like you, though. Are you coming?”
He was, stepping off what had become the ceiling. “I am. Likely.” He moved with slow purpose. “Modern.”
“Yes.” She rippled in annoyance. “Sickeningly so. And now you’re making fun of me. Are you? I think that you are. And I am your host.”
“Where are we going?”
“…without answering, he asks. I feel heckled now. La! We’re going where I choose to—“ She swiped a door open next to them, and immediately frowned at the grey light that came slicing through.
“…except that this is yours,” she finished, flatly. She shut the door on the glare from the skyscrapers.
Her companion bowed his head solemnly, and did not smile.
“I do not envy you,” she said, as a row of lanterns swung above them. She touched them as they passed. One, two… their light spilled over everything, messily. “Or that child. Envy not the both of you.”
“Should you,” he asked.
“No. I like his madness to be cheerful.” Then, realizing she had gone too far, she amended. “A little, maybe. I have been idle for a long time. You have seen things now, that I have not in years. Decades. Century.”
“A long time,” he agreed. She looked at him sharply, and then looked away, a corner of her mouth turned up. She touched the tip of her index finger to the last lantern in that hall. It came alive with a throb, much like a heart.
“When I fought with Kisuke,” she whispered, a moment later. “My clothes were white. We fought for days—you know those days—I asked for nothing but his dedication, nothing but his concentration…surprisingly hard coming from him! I asked nothing but his compliments. And that compliment made my clothes turn red. Redder. Red as you see them now. Soon, I was all red. And he was whiter than sheet. Because he had nearly no blood left. I had taken it all.”
He stood over her from behind, so much taller. He bent over her shoulder for a moment. The scent there was thick and metallic.
“..and then he had me,” she finished.
The red cloth flowed down the slope of her shoulders, the swell of her breasts, like heavy water. Her tassels twined around her wrists, between her bent fingers, swung over the beginning curve of an areola. He was still wearing his glasses. She reached out and took them, sliding them up the bridge of her nose. The doors around them were suddenly bright orange to her—she laughed and crouched over him, grinning ridiculously.
“Modern,” she said, running her hands up his chest.
“Hmph,” he said, looking at her.
She wrapped herself around him like a sheath.
“Have I told you,” she whispered, holding his head to her shoulder, moving steadily, slickly, over him. “For older ones. Older than me, yes. It takes more than a word, to free them.”
The scent hadn’t come from the clothes, from the walls, even from the room that held a veritable ocean. It had come from her skin, and he mouthed at it. She pressed her palms over his rough cheek. She slid her nails down his back, as though craving red beneath skin he did not actually have. “It used to take many words. Many, many words.”
She gasped, her stomach taut. “Such words. They were very old, those ones. Very powerful too. So large. So strange. Took a lot to keep them. Did you meet them? I imagine you may have. It has been a long time, since I have seen them. We are different though. We have grown more, different, I think…” Her voice hitched, her knees gave a jerk. The tassels swayed. “…but not less powerful. I think. I think not less powerful. Only a word, for us. But that makes us not less easily bound. You--”
Then, she said his name. A simple act, notable in nothing except for the fact that from her lips it came with an edge of static, and between their bodies, was the hum of smooth surface against smooth surface. Of flesh that was pale and shiny and sleek like metal, sleek like sharp, polished metal. “…--are not bound at all.”
So she ran her folded fingers back under his chin, down his throat. Touched her mouth to his throat as she came--smoothly, like the motion it took to be pulled free of stone. Her back rose and fell in the red lantern light.
Eventually, the glasses began to fall askew. She handed them back with a laugh.
pocky_slash's new community fridge_fics. A new fic challenge community inspired by boredom and refrigerators. C'mon, people. You know you want to check it out. ♥ THE POWER OF THE EVIL SMOOTHIE COMPELLS YOU. In other news, I have written nastywrong sword pr0n (well as much pr0n as I can ever manage) as a gift. And I think you all need to enjoy my
Also Benihime is a ho.
Also Bleach 195 breaks my brain.
She led the way through a darker corridor; the glow behind the panels of the endless line of doors a red one. She put one hand against a frame and pushed the next aside. Immediately liquid threatened to pool around them. She made a noise and quickly shut the door again.
“Oh, yes. That is where I keep it,” she said, with a smooth laugh to hide the awkwardness of it. “One can’t expect it all to go back to where it comes from.”
“Hm,” said her companion, listening steadily to the sound of rippling behind the paper. “Interesting effect.”
The woman turned to him in a jangle. The tassels hung from her hair, her dark sleeves, over her shoulder.
“Effect, he calls it! Your modern boy is showing.” She raised her arm, gave her wrist a fluid flick. Above, another door slid open above them. She stepped from the floor onto the wall. “All of you. So modern these days. Even Kisuke. He watches a movie now and again. And he’s old. Like me. Not like you, though. Are you coming?”
He was, stepping off what had become the ceiling. “I am. Likely.” He moved with slow purpose. “Modern.”
“Yes.” She rippled in annoyance. “Sickeningly so. And now you’re making fun of me. Are you? I think that you are. And I am your host.”
“Where are we going?”
“…without answering, he asks. I feel heckled now. La! We’re going where I choose to—“ She swiped a door open next to them, and immediately frowned at the grey light that came slicing through.
“…except that this is yours,” she finished, flatly. She shut the door on the glare from the skyscrapers.
Her companion bowed his head solemnly, and did not smile.
“I do not envy you,” she said, as a row of lanterns swung above them. She touched them as they passed. One, two… their light spilled over everything, messily. “Or that child. Envy not the both of you.”
“Should you,” he asked.
“No. I like his madness to be cheerful.” Then, realizing she had gone too far, she amended. “A little, maybe. I have been idle for a long time. You have seen things now, that I have not in years. Decades. Century.”
“A long time,” he agreed. She looked at him sharply, and then looked away, a corner of her mouth turned up. She touched the tip of her index finger to the last lantern in that hall. It came alive with a throb, much like a heart.
“When I fought with Kisuke,” she whispered, a moment later. “My clothes were white. We fought for days—you know those days—I asked for nothing but his dedication, nothing but his concentration…surprisingly hard coming from him! I asked nothing but his compliments. And that compliment made my clothes turn red. Redder. Red as you see them now. Soon, I was all red. And he was whiter than sheet. Because he had nearly no blood left. I had taken it all.”
He stood over her from behind, so much taller. He bent over her shoulder for a moment. The scent there was thick and metallic.
“..and then he had me,” she finished.
The red cloth flowed down the slope of her shoulders, the swell of her breasts, like heavy water. Her tassels twined around her wrists, between her bent fingers, swung over the beginning curve of an areola. He was still wearing his glasses. She reached out and took them, sliding them up the bridge of her nose. The doors around them were suddenly bright orange to her—she laughed and crouched over him, grinning ridiculously.
“Modern,” she said, running her hands up his chest.
“Hmph,” he said, looking at her.
She wrapped herself around him like a sheath.
“Have I told you,” she whispered, holding his head to her shoulder, moving steadily, slickly, over him. “For older ones. Older than me, yes. It takes more than a word, to free them.”
The scent hadn’t come from the clothes, from the walls, even from the room that held a veritable ocean. It had come from her skin, and he mouthed at it. She pressed her palms over his rough cheek. She slid her nails down his back, as though craving red beneath skin he did not actually have. “It used to take many words. Many, many words.”
She gasped, her stomach taut. “Such words. They were very old, those ones. Very powerful too. So large. So strange. Took a lot to keep them. Did you meet them? I imagine you may have. It has been a long time, since I have seen them. We are different though. We have grown more, different, I think…” Her voice hitched, her knees gave a jerk. The tassels swayed. “…but not less powerful. I think. I think not less powerful. Only a word, for us. But that makes us not less easily bound. You--”
Then, she said his name. A simple act, notable in nothing except for the fact that from her lips it came with an edge of static, and between their bodies, was the hum of smooth surface against smooth surface. Of flesh that was pale and shiny and sleek like metal, sleek like sharp, polished metal. “…--are not bound at all.”
So she ran her folded fingers back under his chin, down his throat. Touched her mouth to his throat as she came--smoothly, like the motion it took to be pulled free of stone. Her back rose and fell in the red lantern light.
Eventually, the glasses began to fall askew. She handed them back with a laugh.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2005-09-14 06:40 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-09-14 07:31 pm (UTC)Eeeeeeeeeee...
Date: 2005-09-14 07:36 pm (UTC)*very gently touches a foot in awefilled worship*
Swordpr00000000000n~~~~ <3
(no subject)
Date: 2005-09-14 09:04 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-09-15 01:51 pm (UTC)(Did I comment on the daemon one? I can't remember. Because it was dead cool, and I've totally done the zanpakutou = daemon! moment of the epiphany thing too.)