(no subject)
So, uh. I didn't quite mention it but last Saturday I had a nasty fall. Nothing serious, but my right side is sort of purplish-blue-yellowy. Not the face, thankfully, or the whole searching for a job would be even more disasterous that it's being right now. ANYWAY. To that, we may add that I been walking a lot. IT'S GOOD. Exercise, yay! I need exercise in my life. But to that, let's add that I've also been cleaning the house (IT'S THE NEVERENDING STORY) and I think I'm sort of gonna organize a garage sale.
And now, let's add to the fact that my wrists are starting to hurt in the very distinct, very awkward twinges of carpal tunnel. Let's add that about two weeks ago I had fever and a sore throat and body aching due to disease, and I think my body wants to tell me something.
That something? 'YOU NEED A VACATION'.
Sadly, as my prince or princess charming refuses to magically appear to ease any and all of my finantial problems, as I have yet to find the winning lotto ticket, or suddenly find myself inheriting lots and lots of money, body, I think the closest we'll get to that is suntanning ourselves in the garden tomorrow. And keep on searching for a job.
In other less depressing - or painful - news, I've started reading Soul Eater! I'm liking it quite a bit, although I've not quite clinched enough with any character yet. I mean, I have favorites of course: I totally adore Maka and Soul, and Stein is awesome as well, but so far I've not felt the itch I get to write about any of the characters. I've not finished the story yet, so the itch might come, but who knows.
But I have gotten the itch to write about something. The world. Because everyone here knows I'm a one trick pony and that there are few things I love more in fiction than dealing about pairs that are about Masters and Weapons. After all, Loveless IS one of my True Fandoms.
So. Have a ficlet.
Loveless/Soul Eater, Ritsuka/Soubi, G.
About 300-ish words, completely safe, no spoilers whatsoever.
And chances are I'm going to write something longer eventually, when SPK fics are not kicking my ass.
Ritsuka says no, of course, taking a step back. He glares at Shinigami-sama, because how dare he even offer Seimei's weapon? The weapon that should have died with his brother, instead of standing there, looking half bored as he smokes.
"Ah, but you've had troubles finding a weapon you can sync with, right, Ritsuka-kun?" Shinigami-sama asks, and Ritsuka looks towards the floor, clenching his jaw and his fists.
Because he's right on that, and he can't move on unless he finds a suitable weapon to partner with. The one reason Ritsuka is here at all at Shibusen is so that he can find out who was responsible, and to do that...
"You should try," Shinigami-sama says, his voice kind. "It might work and it might not, but at least you'll know, right?"
Ritsuka glares some more as he looks at Soubi, who seems to have no opinion at all about this. Finally he sighs.
"Fine. Change."
"Of course," Soubi says, dropping his cigarette and stepping on it before he does, and Ritsuka moves to take the sword before it falls to the floor and--
-- he draws a deep breath, eyes wide, because their wavelengths actually match, not rejecting each other like he was sure it should have happened, and he can feel Soubi, and he's holding tightly to him as if he didn't want to let go.
And now, let's add to the fact that my wrists are starting to hurt in the very distinct, very awkward twinges of carpal tunnel. Let's add that about two weeks ago I had fever and a sore throat and body aching due to disease, and I think my body wants to tell me something.
That something? 'YOU NEED A VACATION'.
Sadly, as my prince or princess charming refuses to magically appear to ease any and all of my finantial problems, as I have yet to find the winning lotto ticket, or suddenly find myself inheriting lots and lots of money, body, I think the closest we'll get to that is suntanning ourselves in the garden tomorrow. And keep on searching for a job.
In other less depressing - or painful - news, I've started reading Soul Eater! I'm liking it quite a bit, although I've not quite clinched enough with any character yet. I mean, I have favorites of course: I totally adore Maka and Soul, and Stein is awesome as well, but so far I've not felt the itch I get to write about any of the characters. I've not finished the story yet, so the itch might come, but who knows.
But I have gotten the itch to write about something. The world. Because everyone here knows I'm a one trick pony and that there are few things I love more in fiction than dealing about pairs that are about Masters and Weapons. After all, Loveless IS one of my True Fandoms.
So. Have a ficlet.
Loveless/Soul Eater, Ritsuka/Soubi, G.
About 300-ish words, completely safe, no spoilers whatsoever.
And chances are I'm going to write something longer eventually, when SPK fics are not kicking my ass.
Ritsuka says no, of course, taking a step back. He glares at Shinigami-sama, because how dare he even offer Seimei's weapon? The weapon that should have died with his brother, instead of standing there, looking half bored as he smokes.
"Ah, but you've had troubles finding a weapon you can sync with, right, Ritsuka-kun?" Shinigami-sama asks, and Ritsuka looks towards the floor, clenching his jaw and his fists.
Because he's right on that, and he can't move on unless he finds a suitable weapon to partner with. The one reason Ritsuka is here at all at Shibusen is so that he can find out who was responsible, and to do that...
"You should try," Shinigami-sama says, his voice kind. "It might work and it might not, but at least you'll know, right?"
Ritsuka glares some more as he looks at Soubi, who seems to have no opinion at all about this. Finally he sighs.
"Fine. Change."
"Of course," Soubi says, dropping his cigarette and stepping on it before he does, and Ritsuka moves to take the sword before it falls to the floor and--
-- he draws a deep breath, eyes wide, because their wavelengths actually match, not rejecting each other like he was sure it should have happened, and he can feel Soubi, and he's holding tightly to him as if he didn't want to let go.