Things I forgot to post
Some random crazy-house fic
Mekkare was deathly afraid of trampolines, insisting they were manufactured to subtly control the population through self-inflicted injury and brain damage. They'd found one one night while scouring the nearest junk yard for usable equipment - a rickety old thing nearly covered in rust. Set up in a corner of the side yard where the taller weeds grew, she had easily spotted the thing from the kitchen window - screeching in horror and storming outside to insist that nobody was bringing that government death trap into their house, to kill them slowly one by one.
The deed to the house was in her father's name and so they reluctantly agreed - only to reassemble the thing up on the roof instead. Bastian enjoyed the move in particular, grinning and bouncing higher to catch a better view of the city lights. The trampoline's rusted legs groaned in protest, cracking noisily and scaring the shit out of Angel on the third floor below them - newly convinced that aliens were regularly trying to break into his room via the roof. Mackenzie would laugh and light another cigarette, watching Bastian grab at his hat and spin; that's what the electric shieldwalls were for, even though alien attacks were complete bullshit to begin with. Fucking psycho.
Prompt #01 Motion - Crazyface fic
Mack's dragged him down beneath the surface, tripping over grimy stairs and into a tiny, closed-walled room, one boxey hand closed round a wrist and the fraying ends of striped cotton. Down to his favorite place, besides to the confines of his room and Bastian's bed and the secluded corner of the public library. With practiced timing he slips them past the the bubble-gum chick at the counter, the girl too preoccupied with yelling laughter into her phone, pinky finger shoved up into her ear to block out the bass threatening to tear the walls apart. Down below the band screams and the pit jumps, hot and sweaty as too many arms and legs smack wetly against each other - individuals lost and melded into one as they move in time to the nonexistent beat. Mack sticks his tongue out at it, caught between his teeth as he drags Bastian once again like some knit-hatted ox, tugging him over to the far wall and away from the crowd. It's loud enough here that he can't hear a thing, the cemented wall of noise blocking all sound, all thought, all signals incoming and outgoing to leave nothing in his brain but the lyrics that Bastian has gleefully started to shriek. Mack grins at the sight through the stained hair hanging over his eyes, finding even the wild cuts of their arms, the heavy stomps of their feet silent, as they spun together through the white noise and danced.
Prompt #09 King - Dead!Claudius AU, Hamlet style
Twas in the late, foggy haze of the afternoon when Elsinore came under seige - the throats of the outer guard slit open and red upon the snow, and the whole of fifty eight windows upon the second story shattered to the sound of heavy boots marching o'er glass. Fortinbras stopped in the midst of it, eyes darkly cold beneath his heavy fringe and general's hat, hand paused upon his hilt as he surveyed the terrain and chose a new direction to send his army. Claudius was not to be found within his stale, empty court, nor in the solar, nor within the great hall that brimmed with faint-hearted ladies who shrieked at the sight of the mud-stained men from Norway.
And so their search did continue throughout the castle, slashing tapestries and o'erturning what they could as they went in a futile effort to vent Fortinbras's growing impatience, stacked against the quiet grumblings from his men as they muttered that mayhap the Danish family had gone abroad, leaving all their tiresome efforts for naught. Up the stairs they marched against the increasing chords of discontent, tearing through chamber doors and servants quarters and winding up high-reaching towers till - perhaps by chance - they did stumble upon the library. And there the remembered prince of Denmark sat, pressed up gainst some dark-eyed youth as they both did pour o'er the strewn texts, till simultaneously jerking their heads up to meet the invaders with a wide "O" of surprise. And in that moment Fortinbras frowned furiously at the king's crown nestled upon fair hair, taking in the expression that did seem to melt into one of petulant annoyance at the interruption, and did wonder where to begin.
Prompt #28 Fortune - Shakespeare AU
"I see a dark and handsome man in your life," the hunchbacked fortune teller crowed, painted lips smiling dreamily as she pawed at the soft flesh of Astrid's outstretched hand.
Seated beside his sister, Fortinbras knitted his eyebrows into a confused frown and tried once again to ignore the clamor of the local village's spring festival, music and noise circling round outside the stuffy tent. "And what nonsense, pray tell, dost thou mean by that? Read your lines again, old woman."
"Oh yes, I'm very certain - he shall make you quite happy," she cooed, giving the princess's hand a squeeze. "You lucky, lucky girl."
Astrid meanwhile grinned her thanks, laughingly shoving her brother aside as she ran out through the tent door.
Prompt #43 God - Negaverse
"This is the worst trip ever," Xela declared finally, voice muffled by the sugary chicks between his teeth and the full-on pout that was threatening to drag his lower lip down to the ground. Watching as the knot of people gathered before the large stone cave - clad in ancient, dirt-stained clothes - continued to cry and pray and cause a general ruckus, Moses chewed slowly on the foot of the chocolate bunny sticking sideways out of his mouth - and was inclined to agree.
Prompt #23 Child - Fire Candy
They're the fucking yakuza, not a charity slum - and so there are few suggestions for what to do with the pretty little one-eighth lynx baby sleeping somewhere in a ravaged shinjuku apartment. The few suggestions that are given Lloyd will hear none of; they're the fucking yakuza, not a slaughterhouse. Only seventeen and already he has a heart of solid goddamn gold to match the cool and steady head on his shoulders, doling out the order for mercy killings while some grunts set to work cleaning this place the fuck up. Tetsu nearly balks at the command, sooner ready to fuck his catch into the ground, skin rubbed off into flat patches that cling to the wood grain, bones cracked between the heavy weight and the prick of splinters piercing up through red muscle. But Lloyd is Boss and so they reluctantly aquiesque to rip out the human bitch's throat and drug the other with enough Fire Candy to cause a brain hemmorage, even before the inevitable meltdown. And so the kid is dumped at one of those houses for human brats, her ears rounded enough to satisfy any elitist assholes' tastes. Lloyd considers it a gift, a nod to the dismembered remnants of an old friendship - and a way to neatly tie up loose ends before washing his hands and moving on to more important business.
Prompt #29 Safe -Warcraft
It was only appropriate that they survive the boss every time, nible feet running on pointed toes as they danced around the room. Even moreso when the rest of the party was resurected to find themselves reeking of rot, courtesy of the wall of putrid slime that had washed over their dead bodies at a constant rhythm like some foul, exfoliating ocean of stink. "It's really simple. That," Laeroth explained when asked, wrinkling his nose and pointing to the still-dripping tunic of their undead priest, "Is why we blood elves are good at the Safety Dance."
Prompt #40 History - Tsubasa AU
"Praise be to the Gods who sent you to us," says one of the village girls sent to bandage the wounded who lay strewn across the dirt-trodden field. She's young with frazzled, greying hair, her unlined hands calloused and stained like so many inhabbitants of the tiny, rural settlement in southern Hokkaido. The women are aged before their time, the men non-existant save for the few too elderly or too young to throw their lives away before the constant waves of attacking monsters - this woman's husband slain by the Tsuchinoko, that one's sons crushed by an invading water dragon. The stories are too many remember, and he quickly loses count.
"Things aren't as they used to be," another interjects, shaking her head with slow, tired deliberation. "Not since the lady Amaterasu was killed. The demons have broken through the outer kekkai; Tokyo never sends aid. Tsukiyomu is only a child and so it can't be helped, but we're the ones who suffer for it. There's none to defend our villages, save for travelers like you, young warrior. Please," she begs, her smile stretched and strained as she and her fellow women bow low to the ground, arms scraping across the dirt as their hands clasp in silent prayer. "Stay a while and allow us to repay your kindness."
Kurogane merely tightens his jaw and hangs his head, sheathing his father's sword before turning to leave without saying a word.
Mekkare was deathly afraid of trampolines, insisting they were manufactured to subtly control the population through self-inflicted injury and brain damage. They'd found one one night while scouring the nearest junk yard for usable equipment - a rickety old thing nearly covered in rust. Set up in a corner of the side yard where the taller weeds grew, she had easily spotted the thing from the kitchen window - screeching in horror and storming outside to insist that nobody was bringing that government death trap into their house, to kill them slowly one by one.
The deed to the house was in her father's name and so they reluctantly agreed - only to reassemble the thing up on the roof instead. Bastian enjoyed the move in particular, grinning and bouncing higher to catch a better view of the city lights. The trampoline's rusted legs groaned in protest, cracking noisily and scaring the shit out of Angel on the third floor below them - newly convinced that aliens were regularly trying to break into his room via the roof. Mackenzie would laugh and light another cigarette, watching Bastian grab at his hat and spin; that's what the electric shieldwalls were for, even though alien attacks were complete bullshit to begin with. Fucking psycho.
Prompt #01 Motion - Crazyface fic
Mack's dragged him down beneath the surface, tripping over grimy stairs and into a tiny, closed-walled room, one boxey hand closed round a wrist and the fraying ends of striped cotton. Down to his favorite place, besides to the confines of his room and Bastian's bed and the secluded corner of the public library. With practiced timing he slips them past the the bubble-gum chick at the counter, the girl too preoccupied with yelling laughter into her phone, pinky finger shoved up into her ear to block out the bass threatening to tear the walls apart. Down below the band screams and the pit jumps, hot and sweaty as too many arms and legs smack wetly against each other - individuals lost and melded into one as they move in time to the nonexistent beat. Mack sticks his tongue out at it, caught between his teeth as he drags Bastian once again like some knit-hatted ox, tugging him over to the far wall and away from the crowd. It's loud enough here that he can't hear a thing, the cemented wall of noise blocking all sound, all thought, all signals incoming and outgoing to leave nothing in his brain but the lyrics that Bastian has gleefully started to shriek. Mack grins at the sight through the stained hair hanging over his eyes, finding even the wild cuts of their arms, the heavy stomps of their feet silent, as they spun together through the white noise and danced.
Prompt #09 King - Dead!Claudius AU, Hamlet style
Twas in the late, foggy haze of the afternoon when Elsinore came under seige - the throats of the outer guard slit open and red upon the snow, and the whole of fifty eight windows upon the second story shattered to the sound of heavy boots marching o'er glass. Fortinbras stopped in the midst of it, eyes darkly cold beneath his heavy fringe and general's hat, hand paused upon his hilt as he surveyed the terrain and chose a new direction to send his army. Claudius was not to be found within his stale, empty court, nor in the solar, nor within the great hall that brimmed with faint-hearted ladies who shrieked at the sight of the mud-stained men from Norway.
And so their search did continue throughout the castle, slashing tapestries and o'erturning what they could as they went in a futile effort to vent Fortinbras's growing impatience, stacked against the quiet grumblings from his men as they muttered that mayhap the Danish family had gone abroad, leaving all their tiresome efforts for naught. Up the stairs they marched against the increasing chords of discontent, tearing through chamber doors and servants quarters and winding up high-reaching towers till - perhaps by chance - they did stumble upon the library. And there the remembered prince of Denmark sat, pressed up gainst some dark-eyed youth as they both did pour o'er the strewn texts, till simultaneously jerking their heads up to meet the invaders with a wide "O" of surprise. And in that moment Fortinbras frowned furiously at the king's crown nestled upon fair hair, taking in the expression that did seem to melt into one of petulant annoyance at the interruption, and did wonder where to begin.
Prompt #28 Fortune - Shakespeare AU
"I see a dark and handsome man in your life," the hunchbacked fortune teller crowed, painted lips smiling dreamily as she pawed at the soft flesh of Astrid's outstretched hand.
Seated beside his sister, Fortinbras knitted his eyebrows into a confused frown and tried once again to ignore the clamor of the local village's spring festival, music and noise circling round outside the stuffy tent. "And what nonsense, pray tell, dost thou mean by that? Read your lines again, old woman."
"Oh yes, I'm very certain - he shall make you quite happy," she cooed, giving the princess's hand a squeeze. "You lucky, lucky girl."
Astrid meanwhile grinned her thanks, laughingly shoving her brother aside as she ran out through the tent door.
Prompt #43 God - Negaverse
"This is the worst trip ever," Xela declared finally, voice muffled by the sugary chicks between his teeth and the full-on pout that was threatening to drag his lower lip down to the ground. Watching as the knot of people gathered before the large stone cave - clad in ancient, dirt-stained clothes - continued to cry and pray and cause a general ruckus, Moses chewed slowly on the foot of the chocolate bunny sticking sideways out of his mouth - and was inclined to agree.
Prompt #23 Child - Fire Candy
They're the fucking yakuza, not a charity slum - and so there are few suggestions for what to do with the pretty little one-eighth lynx baby sleeping somewhere in a ravaged shinjuku apartment. The few suggestions that are given Lloyd will hear none of; they're the fucking yakuza, not a slaughterhouse. Only seventeen and already he has a heart of solid goddamn gold to match the cool and steady head on his shoulders, doling out the order for mercy killings while some grunts set to work cleaning this place the fuck up. Tetsu nearly balks at the command, sooner ready to fuck his catch into the ground, skin rubbed off into flat patches that cling to the wood grain, bones cracked between the heavy weight and the prick of splinters piercing up through red muscle. But Lloyd is Boss and so they reluctantly aquiesque to rip out the human bitch's throat and drug the other with enough Fire Candy to cause a brain hemmorage, even before the inevitable meltdown. And so the kid is dumped at one of those houses for human brats, her ears rounded enough to satisfy any elitist assholes' tastes. Lloyd considers it a gift, a nod to the dismembered remnants of an old friendship - and a way to neatly tie up loose ends before washing his hands and moving on to more important business.
Prompt #29 Safe -Warcraft
It was only appropriate that they survive the boss every time, nible feet running on pointed toes as they danced around the room. Even moreso when the rest of the party was resurected to find themselves reeking of rot, courtesy of the wall of putrid slime that had washed over their dead bodies at a constant rhythm like some foul, exfoliating ocean of stink. "It's really simple. That," Laeroth explained when asked, wrinkling his nose and pointing to the still-dripping tunic of their undead priest, "Is why we blood elves are good at the Safety Dance."
Prompt #40 History - Tsubasa AU
"Praise be to the Gods who sent you to us," says one of the village girls sent to bandage the wounded who lay strewn across the dirt-trodden field. She's young with frazzled, greying hair, her unlined hands calloused and stained like so many inhabbitants of the tiny, rural settlement in southern Hokkaido. The women are aged before their time, the men non-existant save for the few too elderly or too young to throw their lives away before the constant waves of attacking monsters - this woman's husband slain by the Tsuchinoko, that one's sons crushed by an invading water dragon. The stories are too many remember, and he quickly loses count.
"Things aren't as they used to be," another interjects, shaking her head with slow, tired deliberation. "Not since the lady Amaterasu was killed. The demons have broken through the outer kekkai; Tokyo never sends aid. Tsukiyomu is only a child and so it can't be helped, but we're the ones who suffer for it. There's none to defend our villages, save for travelers like you, young warrior. Please," she begs, her smile stretched and strained as she and her fellow women bow low to the ground, arms scraping across the dirt as their hands clasp in silent prayer. "Stay a while and allow us to repay your kindness."
Kurogane merely tightens his jaw and hangs his head, sheathing his father's sword before turning to leave without saying a word.