a bunch of exchange drabbles + ...well...
Title: First Dance
Author: magicdragonomg
Fandom: Princess Tutu
Rating: PG-13 - slight sexual implications, moaning and all that good stuff we love
Characters/Pairings: Fakir, Mytho; Fakir/Mytho
Words: 419
Genre: romance in a sick-somewhat-twisted sorta way
Summary: "The first time Fakir saw Mytho dance, he thought him a feast for his eyes."
Comments: My first posting attempt at something rather sexual, Fakir/Mytho, no less! I blame Havemercy on this. Specifically a pinch-hitting ficlet for
sweet_tard as part of the Tutu exchange.
The first time Fakir saw Mytho dance, he thought him a feast for his eyes.
Fakir was fifteen then, and seriously considering enrolling himself and Mytho into the Kinkan Ballet Academy. He had gotten the idea reading, for the first time since his childhood, The Prince and the Raven again, where a few sentences he might not have captured as a child flourished under his older, careful eye. Drosselmeyer detailed how, in a dance before Princess Tutu confessed her love and disappeared in a flash of light, Prince Siegfried matched her elegance in a pas de deux so that they appeared as swans fluttering on a lake. The wheels turning in his head, aware of his own fate as a knight all the while, Fakir brought Mytho to the abandoned lake edge, where the latter executed ballet as though he were a natural, as though he hadn't not been taught at all, as though he had done it for an eternity.
Fakir might have fallen in love before then, but he realized it for himself when Mytho finished into a gentle bend. The two stood there frozen for what felt like hours as Fakir stared, masking his face with rigidness despite the rich flower blooming in his chest. Mytho’s dance matched his appearance: cold, fragile, and doll-like, and yet there existed the softness of compassion underneath. Fakir’s gaze turned into appraisal; a hunger for possession rumbled deep within him. At first, confusion spurned beside this new obsession, and for those several minutes, Fakir struggled behind his firm exterior, attempting to understand his emotions.
It didn’t matter, he told himself. Mytho didn’t have to involve himself with anybody else anymore, and nobody could do a damn thing about it.
As though he’d hit his head and earned temporary amnesia, Fakir blinked when the next second he found his tongue tracing Mytho’s collarbone. The moments between moving from his previous spot to finding himself seducing Mytho against a tree were so lost to him, it was as though more time hadn’t passed at all, as though one second he stood somewhere, then the next the earth had transported him to his current position. In this way, Fakir glimpsed his animal desires - his fixation for control, - but could not identify the trait. He simply rooted his feet in the grass, allowing his body to push Mytho so deep into the trunk of the tree that the back of his doll’s head ached, and sucked his skin dry until his doll moaned.
Title: Fluid and Powder
Author: magicdragonomg
Fandom: Princess Tutu
Rating: PG-13 - nothing horrible, but if you don't know what an aphrodisiac is...
Characters/Pairings: Fakir, Ahiru, Mr. Apothecary; Fakir/Ahiru
Words: 617
Genre: humor, slight romance
Summary: Fakir has a cold and grudgingly allows Ahiru to come along when he visits the apothecary's for medicine. Shenanigans ensue.
Comments: I hope contrail like this! This was also written for someone as a pinch-hitting gift for the Tutu exchange.
Having contracted something of a mild cold, Fakir traveled down the street from Charon’s house to the apothecary’s, unable to help but drag along a concerned Ahiru with him. In truth, he didn’t mind her company that much. Actually, he preferred her company in light of his suffering, but he wouldn’t let her know that.
The apothecary’s was a small shop the size of a bedroom, and the walls of vials, bagged powders, and boxed incense cramped close together to create both a stuffy and homey space. Once inside, Fakir had the however fleeting sensation that something might go horribly wrong, to which he jerked his head over to Ahiru next to him and caught her mouth a little ajar at the interesting concoctions displayed.
“Don’t touch anything, moron,” he sternly reminded her, his bad mood from being ill evident.
Ahiru jumped but quickly regained herself, facing Fakir with pink cheeks and a flustered retort on her tongue. By the time she raised a fist, however, preparing to give him a piece of her mind, he had already turned his back in approaching the shopkeeper’s counter.
Still irritated that he treated her like a naïve child, Ahiru dropped her fist and walked toward the case nearest to her, her interest in the concoctions eventually winning over her anger.
“Ah, Fakir. It’s good to see you. Would you give my regards to Charon?” The apothecary greeted, flashing a smile full of yellowed teeth.
“I need medicine for a cold,” Fakir said.
The apothecary, having known the young man since he was a boy, chose not to regard Fakir’s dismissal of his request, and instead nodded with an air of business dawning over his face. “Yes, I can see - and hear - that. I have a vat of medicine prepared already from another person sick with a cold that came in this morning.” He bent down, his thin veil of hair hanging over his forehead, procured a small sack, and then disappeared into the storage room behind him. When he came back out seconds later, he had filled the sack with a white powder. “Will you be needing anything else?”
“No--”
“Um, what’s this?” Ahiru asked, walking in long strides up to counter beside Fakir. She held a ceramic jar into the light for both Fakir and the apothecary to see. “Can I buy it?”
It took Fakir a moment to read the label on the jar, but likely the apothecary already knew what the jar was the moment she brought it over, hence his face growing very pale and looking taken aback. Fakir squinted, reading “APHRODISIAC POWDER” in neat, straight lettering on the piece of parchment tacked to the outside. For several minutes, neither of the men could scramble the voice to speak, Fakir especially, who clenched his teeth and moved his lips and spluttered, much to Ahiru’s confusion.
At last, as the color began to noticeably rise from Fakir’s neck up to his ears, he managed to shout, “Idiot! WHY ARE YOU HOLDING THAT?”
“I just thought it looked interesting, okay, and I don’t know what it is! The jar looked pretty enough!”
“DIDN’T I SAY NOT TO TOUCH ANYTHING?”
Therein their retorts developed into a ferocious argument, the apothecary unable to halt the storm in his shop, and the jar broken in the end, for which Fakir had to pay for with a burning red face.
His humiliation was made all the more unbearable when the apothecary muttered unhappily to him, “Pity you had to pay for it without acquiring it: it would certainly do the two of you good for all the energy you both have.”
“Fakir, what did he mean by--?”
“WE’RE LEAVING.”
Title: Twin Voids
Author: magicdragonomg
Fandom: Yu Yu Hakusho/G Gundam cross-over
Rating: PG - a little dark
Characters/Pairings: Hiei, Domon; Hiei/Domon intended
Words: 124
Genre: ...angst-ish
Summary: Many years later, in the near-destroyed Living Realm, Hiei encounters a human burning with hatred.
Comments: ...I'm trying really hard not to type LOL all over this, though in essence by writing this I think I did. P~A~R~A~D~O~X? ಠ益ಠ
For a human, he fought pretty well.
Or so thought Hiei as he sparred with the dark-haired man - the person they called Japan’s Gundam Fighter - in the abandoned, moonlit street of Hong Kong. Hiei had no tolerance for humans, particularly in this destroyed future for the Living Realm, and less so did he have tolerance for playing like this, for testing out fools he came across. The last part was more the Fox’s forte, and yet Hiei could not help but be drawn in like a magnet to Domon’s black, void-like eyes. Something in his countenance screamed of fresh, emotional pain, and something equally terrible in Hiei’s up-bringing saw the hatred in him as a challenge.
This time, he could not resist going all out.
Author: magicdragonomg
Fandom: Princess Tutu
Rating: PG-13 - slight sexual implications, moaning and all that good stuff we love
Characters/Pairings: Fakir, Mytho; Fakir/Mytho
Words: 419
Genre: romance in a sick-somewhat-twisted sorta way
Summary: "The first time Fakir saw Mytho dance, he thought him a feast for his eyes."
Comments: My first posting attempt at something rather sexual, Fakir/Mytho, no less! I blame Havemercy on this. Specifically a pinch-hitting ficlet for
sweet_tard as part of the Tutu exchange.
The first time Fakir saw Mytho dance, he thought him a feast for his eyes.
Fakir was fifteen then, and seriously considering enrolling himself and Mytho into the Kinkan Ballet Academy. He had gotten the idea reading, for the first time since his childhood, The Prince and the Raven again, where a few sentences he might not have captured as a child flourished under his older, careful eye. Drosselmeyer detailed how, in a dance before Princess Tutu confessed her love and disappeared in a flash of light, Prince Siegfried matched her elegance in a pas de deux so that they appeared as swans fluttering on a lake. The wheels turning in his head, aware of his own fate as a knight all the while, Fakir brought Mytho to the abandoned lake edge, where the latter executed ballet as though he were a natural, as though he hadn't not been taught at all, as though he had done it for an eternity.
Fakir might have fallen in love before then, but he realized it for himself when Mytho finished into a gentle bend. The two stood there frozen for what felt like hours as Fakir stared, masking his face with rigidness despite the rich flower blooming in his chest. Mytho’s dance matched his appearance: cold, fragile, and doll-like, and yet there existed the softness of compassion underneath. Fakir’s gaze turned into appraisal; a hunger for possession rumbled deep within him. At first, confusion spurned beside this new obsession, and for those several minutes, Fakir struggled behind his firm exterior, attempting to understand his emotions.
It didn’t matter, he told himself. Mytho didn’t have to involve himself with anybody else anymore, and nobody could do a damn thing about it.
As though he’d hit his head and earned temporary amnesia, Fakir blinked when the next second he found his tongue tracing Mytho’s collarbone. The moments between moving from his previous spot to finding himself seducing Mytho against a tree were so lost to him, it was as though more time hadn’t passed at all, as though one second he stood somewhere, then the next the earth had transported him to his current position. In this way, Fakir glimpsed his animal desires - his fixation for control, - but could not identify the trait. He simply rooted his feet in the grass, allowing his body to push Mytho so deep into the trunk of the tree that the back of his doll’s head ached, and sucked his skin dry until his doll moaned.
Title: Fluid and Powder
Author: magicdragonomg
Fandom: Princess Tutu
Rating: PG-13 - nothing horrible, but if you don't know what an aphrodisiac is...
Characters/Pairings: Fakir, Ahiru, Mr. Apothecary; Fakir/Ahiru
Words: 617
Genre: humor, slight romance
Summary: Fakir has a cold and grudgingly allows Ahiru to come along when he visits the apothecary's for medicine. Shenanigans ensue.
Comments: I hope contrail like this! This was also written for someone as a pinch-hitting gift for the Tutu exchange.
Having contracted something of a mild cold, Fakir traveled down the street from Charon’s house to the apothecary’s, unable to help but drag along a concerned Ahiru with him. In truth, he didn’t mind her company that much. Actually, he preferred her company in light of his suffering, but he wouldn’t let her know that.
The apothecary’s was a small shop the size of a bedroom, and the walls of vials, bagged powders, and boxed incense cramped close together to create both a stuffy and homey space. Once inside, Fakir had the however fleeting sensation that something might go horribly wrong, to which he jerked his head over to Ahiru next to him and caught her mouth a little ajar at the interesting concoctions displayed.
“Don’t touch anything, moron,” he sternly reminded her, his bad mood from being ill evident.
Ahiru jumped but quickly regained herself, facing Fakir with pink cheeks and a flustered retort on her tongue. By the time she raised a fist, however, preparing to give him a piece of her mind, he had already turned his back in approaching the shopkeeper’s counter.
Still irritated that he treated her like a naïve child, Ahiru dropped her fist and walked toward the case nearest to her, her interest in the concoctions eventually winning over her anger.
“Ah, Fakir. It’s good to see you. Would you give my regards to Charon?” The apothecary greeted, flashing a smile full of yellowed teeth.
“I need medicine for a cold,” Fakir said.
The apothecary, having known the young man since he was a boy, chose not to regard Fakir’s dismissal of his request, and instead nodded with an air of business dawning over his face. “Yes, I can see - and hear - that. I have a vat of medicine prepared already from another person sick with a cold that came in this morning.” He bent down, his thin veil of hair hanging over his forehead, procured a small sack, and then disappeared into the storage room behind him. When he came back out seconds later, he had filled the sack with a white powder. “Will you be needing anything else?”
“No--”
“Um, what’s this?” Ahiru asked, walking in long strides up to counter beside Fakir. She held a ceramic jar into the light for both Fakir and the apothecary to see. “Can I buy it?”
It took Fakir a moment to read the label on the jar, but likely the apothecary already knew what the jar was the moment she brought it over, hence his face growing very pale and looking taken aback. Fakir squinted, reading “APHRODISIAC POWDER” in neat, straight lettering on the piece of parchment tacked to the outside. For several minutes, neither of the men could scramble the voice to speak, Fakir especially, who clenched his teeth and moved his lips and spluttered, much to Ahiru’s confusion.
At last, as the color began to noticeably rise from Fakir’s neck up to his ears, he managed to shout, “Idiot! WHY ARE YOU HOLDING THAT?”
“I just thought it looked interesting, okay, and I don’t know what it is! The jar looked pretty enough!”
“DIDN’T I SAY NOT TO TOUCH ANYTHING?”
Therein their retorts developed into a ferocious argument, the apothecary unable to halt the storm in his shop, and the jar broken in the end, for which Fakir had to pay for with a burning red face.
His humiliation was made all the more unbearable when the apothecary muttered unhappily to him, “Pity you had to pay for it without acquiring it: it would certainly do the two of you good for all the energy you both have.”
“Fakir, what did he mean by--?”
“WE’RE LEAVING.”
Title: Twin Voids
Author: magicdragonomg
Fandom: Yu Yu Hakusho/G Gundam cross-over
Rating: PG - a little dark
Characters/Pairings: Hiei, Domon; Hiei/Domon intended
Words: 124
Genre: ...angst-ish
Summary: Many years later, in the near-destroyed Living Realm, Hiei encounters a human burning with hatred.
Comments: ...I'm trying really hard not to type LOL all over this, though in essence by writing this I think I did. P~A~R~A~D~O~X? ಠ益ಠ
For a human, he fought pretty well.
Or so thought Hiei as he sparred with the dark-haired man - the person they called Japan’s Gundam Fighter - in the abandoned, moonlit street of Hong Kong. Hiei had no tolerance for humans, particularly in this destroyed future for the Living Realm, and less so did he have tolerance for playing like this, for testing out fools he came across. The last part was more the Fox’s forte, and yet Hiei could not help but be drawn in like a magnet to Domon’s black, void-like eyes. Something in his countenance screamed of fresh, emotional pain, and something equally terrible in Hiei’s up-bringing saw the hatred in him as a challenge.
This time, he could not resist going all out.