Ficlets and quiz.
Some ficlets that aren't worked up enough/that I don't feel confident enough to go unto my comm.
hetalia fic, Russia/Lithuania.
"My poor darling" Ivan says, and Toris can almost feel his frown as he keeps on touching his back. "Do they hurt? Do they still hurt?"
Sometimes Ivan asks that gleefully, prodding at his back, smiling against his neck; but sometimes - like now - he sounds worried when he asks, touching the roughened skin there as if to heal him, as if he hadn't been the one to leave them there, but Toris can't be angry with him, he has never been able too; he can't get mad against his poor, damaged little brother.
"Of course they don't," he answers all the same, reaching for Ivan's hand, smiling at those beloved, crazy eyes. "Why would they?"
Random fusion/merge since I play these characters at mansion_rpg:
Priness Tutu/Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicle semi-fusion, Princess Sakura/Fakir. I'm still not sure how the fusion would work the other way around. Yet.
Sakura's waist always feels tiny upon his hands, and Fakir has a hard time fighting the urge to gather her close against him as they dance. She bows low, her arms like wings behind her, and he supports her waist, then twists her around and Sakura falls into his arms gently, like a dream.
Now-a-days, she even smiles at him when they do this, the pieces of her heart that Tutu is gathering up for her making his princess shine in a way she never did before. When they dance and Fakir wraps his arms around her, he can feel the way her heart beats.
For a moment before he releases her, Fakir always thinks: why couldn't I have been born a prince?
Then his prima donna piruettes away from his arms, and Fakir thinks: at least, forever I will be her knight.
Aaaand an Innocent Bird ficlet. Innocent bird is a three volumes BL manga dealing with angels, demons, and a greatgreatgreat plottwist that made me love it.
THIS is about said plottwist.
Koumori and the bird. If you are going to read it or are planning to do so, DON'T READ THIS.
year 0 a.C. Two days after the Crucifixion.
It hurts. Everything hurts: his arms, where he cut himself. His legs, where he fell. His neck, where the rope bit around the flesh. His chest, where his heart is still beating. His eyes, from crying so much.
Judas still begs, kneeling down on the grovel, tiny harsh small stones cutting unto the bruises, mixing up with the blood, with his tears.
"Please," he begs, not looking up because he can't ever again do so, not when he knows that he won't ever see his eyes again, not when he realizes what he did. "Please, please. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I don't want this, I don't. Please, please. Bring him back. Please, let me change this. I'll do anything, anything at all. Please, Father, please."
He sobs though he knows it useless, begs until his voice breaks, until the words stop having meaning. He still begs because it's the only thing that still makes any sense. He had wanted to give up this love to better serve him, to be the disciple he should have been.
He had wanted to be his strength, to be able to let go, but not like this. But what he had seen, what he had heard, when he had thought that he had betrayed them, betrayed him...
"Please, Father. Please, lord, please. Another chance," he begs again, swallows at the dryness in his throat. It won't work, he knows it. There is no God and he already lost what was most precious to him. There is nothing he can give to exchange for his wish. Still, still.
A bird caws then, and he looks up. The sun is coming up and the bird's feathers are white like a cloud, and it's looking at him as if it was sad, perched on his Lord's cross. Anger runs through Judas' veins and he searches for a stone, for a stick, for something to throw to that bird but he can't move, bruised as he is, alone as he feels; before anger feeds his weakness, though, the bird flies from the cross and it soars down towards him, perching on his shoulder, one of its wings still extended behind his head, cawing softly.
His breath catches, and Judas almost doesn't dare how to breath, because he's felt this way before, laying down at his feet, when he let him rest his head on his lap.
"Are you," he starts asking, not daring to touch the white, white feathers, barely daring to look at the bird. "... are you him?"
The bird just caws, but its wing is still half shielding his head, its body is warmth, and somehow, in a way Judas doesn't understand (just like with him), he feels sweet, sad comfort flow through him.
.... and to avoid spam, the results of that ColorQuiz.
I took the free ColorQuiz.com personality test!
"Takes easily and quickly to anything which provide..."
Click here to read the rest of the results.
Your Existing Situation
Willing and adaptable. Only at peace when closely attached to a person, group, or organization on a which reliance can be placed.
Your Stress Sources
Wants freedom to follow her own convictions and principles, to achieve respect as an individual in her own right. Desires to avail herself of every possible opportunity without having to submit to limitations or restrictions.
Your Restrained Characteristics
Willing to become emotionally involved and able to achieve satisfaction through sexual activity.
An unadmitted lack of confidence makes her careful to avoid open conflict and she feels she must make the best of things as they are.
Your Desired Objective
Takes easily and quickly to anything which provides stimulation. Preoccupied with things of an intensely exciting nature, whether erotically stimulating or otherwise. Wants to be regarded as an exciting and interesting personality with an altogether charming and impressive influence on others. Uses tactics cleverly so as to avoid endangering her chances of success or undermined others' confidence in herself.
Your Actual Problem
Seeks to avoid criticism and to prevent restriction of her freedom to act, and to decide for herself by the exercise of great personal charm in her dealings with others.
Your Actual Problem #2
Greatly impressed by the unique, by originality, and by individuals of outstanding characteristics. Tries to emulate the characteristics she admires and to display originality in her own personality.
hetalia fic, Russia/Lithuania.
"My poor darling" Ivan says, and Toris can almost feel his frown as he keeps on touching his back. "Do they hurt? Do they still hurt?"
Sometimes Ivan asks that gleefully, prodding at his back, smiling against his neck; but sometimes - like now - he sounds worried when he asks, touching the roughened skin there as if to heal him, as if he hadn't been the one to leave them there, but Toris can't be angry with him, he has never been able too; he can't get mad against his poor, damaged little brother.
"Of course they don't," he answers all the same, reaching for Ivan's hand, smiling at those beloved, crazy eyes. "Why would they?"
Random fusion/merge since I play these characters at mansion_rpg:
Priness Tutu/Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicle semi-fusion, Princess Sakura/Fakir. I'm still not sure how the fusion would work the other way around. Yet.
Sakura's waist always feels tiny upon his hands, and Fakir has a hard time fighting the urge to gather her close against him as they dance. She bows low, her arms like wings behind her, and he supports her waist, then twists her around and Sakura falls into his arms gently, like a dream.
Now-a-days, she even smiles at him when they do this, the pieces of her heart that Tutu is gathering up for her making his princess shine in a way she never did before. When they dance and Fakir wraps his arms around her, he can feel the way her heart beats.
For a moment before he releases her, Fakir always thinks: why couldn't I have been born a prince?
Then his prima donna piruettes away from his arms, and Fakir thinks: at least, forever I will be her knight.
Aaaand an Innocent Bird ficlet. Innocent bird is a three volumes BL manga dealing with angels, demons, and a greatgreatgreat plottwist that made me love it.
THIS is about said plottwist.
Koumori and the bird. If you are going to read it or are planning to do so, DON'T READ THIS.
year 0 a.C. Two days after the Crucifixion.
It hurts. Everything hurts: his arms, where he cut himself. His legs, where he fell. His neck, where the rope bit around the flesh. His chest, where his heart is still beating. His eyes, from crying so much.
Judas still begs, kneeling down on the grovel, tiny harsh small stones cutting unto the bruises, mixing up with the blood, with his tears.
"Please," he begs, not looking up because he can't ever again do so, not when he knows that he won't ever see his eyes again, not when he realizes what he did. "Please, please. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I don't want this, I don't. Please, please. Bring him back. Please, let me change this. I'll do anything, anything at all. Please, Father, please."
He sobs though he knows it useless, begs until his voice breaks, until the words stop having meaning. He still begs because it's the only thing that still makes any sense. He had wanted to give up this love to better serve him, to be the disciple he should have been.
He had wanted to be his strength, to be able to let go, but not like this. But what he had seen, what he had heard, when he had thought that he had betrayed them, betrayed him...
"Please, Father. Please, lord, please. Another chance," he begs again, swallows at the dryness in his throat. It won't work, he knows it. There is no God and he already lost what was most precious to him. There is nothing he can give to exchange for his wish. Still, still.
A bird caws then, and he looks up. The sun is coming up and the bird's feathers are white like a cloud, and it's looking at him as if it was sad, perched on his Lord's cross. Anger runs through Judas' veins and he searches for a stone, for a stick, for something to throw to that bird but he can't move, bruised as he is, alone as he feels; before anger feeds his weakness, though, the bird flies from the cross and it soars down towards him, perching on his shoulder, one of its wings still extended behind his head, cawing softly.
His breath catches, and Judas almost doesn't dare how to breath, because he's felt this way before, laying down at his feet, when he let him rest his head on his lap.
"Are you," he starts asking, not daring to touch the white, white feathers, barely daring to look at the bird. "... are you him?"
The bird just caws, but its wing is still half shielding his head, its body is warmth, and somehow, in a way Judas doesn't understand (just like with him), he feels sweet, sad comfort flow through him.
.... and to avoid spam, the results of that ColorQuiz.
I took the free ColorQuiz.com personality test!
"Takes easily and quickly to anything which provide..."
Click here to read the rest of the results.
Your Existing Situation
Willing and adaptable. Only at peace when closely attached to a person, group, or organization on a which reliance can be placed.
Your Stress Sources
Wants freedom to follow her own convictions and principles, to achieve respect as an individual in her own right. Desires to avail herself of every possible opportunity without having to submit to limitations or restrictions.
Your Restrained Characteristics
Willing to become emotionally involved and able to achieve satisfaction through sexual activity.
An unadmitted lack of confidence makes her careful to avoid open conflict and she feels she must make the best of things as they are.
Your Desired Objective
Takes easily and quickly to anything which provides stimulation. Preoccupied with things of an intensely exciting nature, whether erotically stimulating or otherwise. Wants to be regarded as an exciting and interesting personality with an altogether charming and impressive influence on others. Uses tactics cleverly so as to avoid endangering her chances of success or undermined others' confidence in herself.
Your Actual Problem
Seeks to avoid criticism and to prevent restriction of her freedom to act, and to decide for herself by the exercise of great personal charm in her dealings with others.
Your Actual Problem #2
Greatly impressed by the unique, by originality, and by individuals of outstanding characteristics. Tries to emulate the characteristics she admires and to display originality in her own personality.