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Hm.
It has come to my attention that I can't write action scenes.
I am currently writing for a comic where action scenes are seriously required.
This may be a problem.
So. Meme time: Request two-or-three characters (preferably of the same canon) within a series I know, and I shall try to write FIGHT-O. Or at least some vaguely action-y happenings going on between them.
knowing a lot of shounen manga comes in really, really handy for things like this...
I am currently writing for a comic where action scenes are seriously required.
This may be a problem.
So. Meme time: Request two-or-three characters (preferably of the same canon) within a series I know, and I shall try to write FIGHT-O. Or at least some vaguely action-y happenings going on between them.
knowing a lot of shounen manga comes in really, really handy for things like this...
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Lisa vs. Rangiku.
What.
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LIKE THE WIND YOU ARE
"S'wrong, yanno," sniffed the Visored, leaning between her splayed legs. She smoothed the cloth at Rangiku's thigh, critically.
"What?" blinked Rangiku.
"Said s'wrong," repeated Lisa. A few strands of hair were coming free around her face but her expression did not change. "Even when you make the face. You're not really made for it, shinigami. Not a lick. S'too..."
She punched her. Rangiku gagged at the sudden lack of breathe. Sudden influx of bile in her mouth. The Visored's hand was a warm thing, spread under her collarbone. "Weathered.," hissed the half hollow, and, to prove the point, began to let it wander...
And later, back at the warehouse:
"...so, Lisa, how'dya end up in the tree 'cross the schoolyard 'gain?"
"Shaddup."
(this story has happy end)
THAT'S JUST HOW I ROLL
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"A moment, Hardin," promised Sydney, distractedly deigning not the backwards glance as the serpent unwound another of it's heads from the pillars in the room and made a perfect spearing plunge for his companion's head.
Sydney's eyes were on the wall. "Just a moment," he said again. The tips of his fingers clicked over the grooves in the stone.
The hydra's dripping, needle thin fangs were stopped about an inch from Hardin's nose.
"Well enough, Sydney," he gasped, the thing's jaws were skewered on his sword point, but it was not as though it didn't yet have five extras to spare. He kicked it's quivering throat with a boot and disengaged in a messy arc, sizzling arc. He dropped his foot and spun again to severe the split skull. Partway at least: he wasn't exactly the picture of accuracy righthanded, and the poison was already beginning to throb hotly in his left. "I'll imagine I'll not need that limb, anyway."
"...they're good for barter, aren't they --ah. there." Sydney pressed a metal palm to the wall. It glowed. For a moment the young prophet's eyes did as well, face seized in a sudden delirious gasp not unlike the onset of a Revelation. It passed quickly, hardly even bringing on a swoon. Sydney looked terribly disappointed.
Hardin saw none of this: the hydra had coiled it's body high and swung it down in a loop at him, he'd charged under it, skidded nearly to the opposite wall. It was entangling itself with the pillars again, not so eager to lose another head, more eager to wind itself high: to descend from above.
"Messily done," said Sydney, with a frown.
He glanced back. "I tire of you. Begone."
The very Word sung off the walls. The hydra vanished in a rather anticlimatic splash of Dark on the ceiling.
Hardin fell to his knee, the hotness had spread to his shoulder. He hadn't the head left not to puzzle at how Sydney crossed the room so quickly: for he felt a curving pressure on his arm. The warmth was gone. At least, the bit of it in his skin. Sydney's silver hands, heated like bloody pokers, felt as though they might burn right through the ruined leathers.
"...and I take it..." Hardin panted. "...that was it."
"That was it." Sydney confirmed, mildly. He stroked the flat of his blades up to his shoulder, fondly. "Easy to barter but they are..."
"...haven't the head for this..."
"Shh, Hardin. Easy to barter but they are," Sydney smiled, "I should hope that arm would go to better."
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Mission: FIGHT-O.
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It is a hard, thankless task.
And yet perversely, I want to make this hard on you. D: So: Urahara and Aizen vs. Super Mega Hollow Ichigo! Preferably with Urahara fighting to try to keep his poor beleaguered experiment alive in the end, and Aizen just trying to kill it all and look cool doing so. Oh, conflicting motives ♥
^_^
(You can take the "&" any way you want.)
Re: ^_^
"Yes, Hinamori-kun?"
This was his kindness, Momo realized.
She stared at him across the distance with her heart shaking in her eyes. Her head tipped to one side, and for a moment she had to simply breathe in, hand folded at her breast like a woman holding all she held dear. Then, her fingers pulled tight in the fabric of her uniform. "I said 'I'll kill you.'"
Her eyes went steady. "I'll kill you."
She drew her sword. "I'll kill you."
"Ah," said Aizen, softly as she charged. The searing surge of her spiritual pressure kicked ash into the air.
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....I have a big pink pro-choice sign now.
...see now if you'd sald House beats the crap out of Wilso--oh wait, that's canon.
"I know what you're saying." House arched his brow at him...and went back to fiddling with his Ipod. "I'm just not listening. Tap me when you're done. I'm just going refamiliarize myself with one Mr. Jagger while waiting for the soliquey to end--"
"That's..." Foreman started, as his boss began to politely headbang.
Foreman exchanged looks with his coworkers, sighed, and then proceded to beat the crap out of House with his cane.
Re: ...see now if you'd sald House beats the crap out of Wilso--oh wait, that's canon.
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The washed out prince behind her throbbed fearfully. Tutu shivered in sympathy. She crossed her ankles, lifted her hands, lifted her leg. Delicately, she spun forward. The woman stumbled backwards, eyes wild with Uncertainty. Which is what Tutu was now sure this was.
Aaah, Princess Tutu, says our narrator: is this an emotion a prince should even have?
"Why are you even asking!" shrieked the girl, staggering back. "You can't expect me to know these things--"
"But I don't," said Tutu, sweetly. Her body dipped forward. Her arm reached out. She took her hand, and came forward in a gentle swing. Cantering about her. The smell of roses followed. Wind like a chick's down touched their cheeks. Tutu whirled beautifully and Rabbit went with her. Helplessly, fearfully, her steps ragged and off beat. Tutu made it up for the both of them, guiding her through each mistep. Smoothing her arm into a more comfortable curve.
"...I..."
"I don't ask you to know. You can be confused, if you like. If one is never confused, one never questions. It's okay to feel uncertain sometimes. I will wait. I will be patient. And when you decide, I will be happy...you can dance with me whenever you'd like."
"Whenever I..." said Rabbit, swaying.
"Like..." said the Prince, coming away in her arms.
"I," said the Prince.
"Dance with me?"
"Yes," said the Prince, he bowed his head, and took her hand.
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This is going to be extra-silly.
Jayne! VERSUS! Wash!
Then Zoe comes to save the day, as she is wont to doROCK!
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(my opinion: It will start with swords but will probably turn into a heated argument about music tastes)
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"What?!" said Gamma at the same time Ichigo said "HELL NO". Gamma's swordcase made a thunk. Ichigo's guitarcase did likewise.
They moved at the same time.
"Right."
"So."
"Never talking about this again?"
"Gotcha."
They stood there, each on one leg, and wondered while staring at the merged soles of their boots: What shounen law would eventually decide to let up and let 'em walk away from this one.
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Also OMG I finally finished your meme thing and it is the last image in this post. I posted it at 3 in the morning and somehow got your username mixed up with
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Zabimaru drew back in a successive clack of metal vertebrae. Renji held him in front of his face. His long teeth echoing those of the sword as he angled it suggestively.
"Oi," he said, grinning wide. "Bitch."
"Hello," said Rukia, sinking back on one leg. "Fool."
She leapt backwards into a whirl, her toes barely touching the surface again as she bounced. She dipped her hilt, and looped the ribbon about the empty air, once, twice, three times.
Renji stared at the sudden paleness of the water on which he stood. "BITCH," he snarled, in an entirely different tone. "ZABIMA--"
His roar was cut off by the upward surge of ice.
Rukia landed with a laugh. Watching the block in the lake. "Well, would be Honored Sixth Seat! What do you have to say to that! Nothing, I suppose, until I choose to release you. You are not the only who has..."
The ice made a creak. Rukia felt her heart lurch. "...wait--."
The block exploded, Rukia's feet sunk an a inch beneath the water for a moment in pure shock, as she raised her arm to shield her face. "RENJI--" she shouted, desperately. It hadn't just...she hadn't willed it--
Renji was still standing in the middle of the lake, chunks of ice and cold water dripping off the jagged framework of Zabimaru, wrapped so tight about himself that it drew blood around his shoulders, but teeth still cutting into their would-be prison: like a saw.
"Eh, Rukia," he husked, his breathe white smoke. "You were saaaaaying?"
He took a step forward, and then nearly drowned as he chose that exact moment to pass the hell out.
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(What, that is totally the appropriate response.)
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asswhooping is more like... >:D
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:D :D :D
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Salad Days. Gain vs. Reach.
FIGHTO!