random fandom prompts
...And then there are these. Writing for Tactics is surprisingly soothing. Also, I feel underqualified to write for Firefly, and yet I did it anyway.
AND I'M SPENT.
Hikaru no Go, Hikaru/Akira (any timeline): pink, bored, party, foot stool
Hikaru peered at the room upside-down, draped over Waya's only comfortable chair, and he wondered, not for the first time, why Touya wore so much pink.
Some people looked good in pink. Kawai-san looked good in it, weirdly. Akari and his mom both looked good in it. Kaga could definitely pull off pink. Touya...no. Purple, maybe. Blues, though, God. He'd look great in blues. Dark blue. Why didn't he wear more blue? Maybe Hikaru would buy him something blue, just for the sake of Hikaru's own happiness.
Thinking about Touya's wardrobe this much was clearly a sign that he was bored out of his mind.
Well, it was a Waya party, and Waya parties always went one of two ways: Waya invited go players, go was played, and it was awesome...or Waya tried to invite normal people. Normal people and go players were an awful mix, because the thing was, go players only knew how to communicate with each other through go. Standing around and talking? Instant fail.
Take Touya, as a random, blindingly pink example. He could talk to non-go players, no trouble; Hikaru had seen him do it. He'd been talking to one of Waya's gamer friends, and it had been fine. Touya actually had a weird, inexplicable fear of computer games, but he could talk to gamers because it was like two different countries exchanging information. Go/Non-Go diplomacy.
Then Touya had tried to talk to Isumi, and it had all gone to hell. And why? Touya and Isumi, really. Isumi got along with everybody! And they would have gotten along if they'd been allowed to say, "Hello, nice to see you, would you like to play a game?" But since there were normal people around, they'd had to socialize.
After that awkward fiasco, Touya had come to perch nervously on a foot stool next to Hikaru's chair, and he clearly had no intention of moving until the party was over and he could flee.
It was too bad, because Touya was kind of awesome, in a crazy, screaming-at-you-in-public way. But Touya was a shit when he was uncomfortable, and he was uncomfortable a lot.
Hikaru stretched further over the arm of the chair and reached out to ruffle Touya’s hair. Naturally, Touya gave him an incredulous glare of death.
“You’re alright,” Hikaru said with a grin.
“And you’re insane,” Touya replied. “If we’re stating the obvious.”
“Let’s go get ramen!” Hikaru suggested enthusiastically. “And then we can go to a salon and play.”
“Shindou, that would be rude. The party’s hardly started.”
“No, we’ve been here for hours.”
“We’ve been here an hour.”
“Hours.”
“Forty-five minutes!”
“Oh my God,” said Waya. “I should know better than to leave you two in the same room ever.”
So they ended up being kicked out, which, Hikaru argued, wasn’t rude at all. Touya disagreed. Touya could be so unreasonable; also he wore too much pink. Hikaru resolved to point all this out to him as soon as he’d calmed down.
Tactics, Haruka (roughly vol. 6 or thereabouts): windows, Sunday, boat, cymbals
It was Sunday morning, and Kantarou wouldn't be awake for hours. The idiot had been out messing with youkai until the wee hours of the morning again. Youko had gone distracted, either with worry, or with the thought that Kantarou had probably forgotten to charge overtime.
Haruka could have gone somewhere, since his master didn't require him. Just flying, maybe. It was a beautiful day. He might have watched the boats; the men trying to fish without knowing the rules of the river. It was interesting to see humans attempting to function despite staggering ignorance.
But instead of making use of his time, he was standing in his room, staring blankly out the window. He couldn't decide what was wrong with him, but he was quite sure that it was dire, and also that it was entirely Kantarou's fault.
There was nothing about his idiot master that wasn't irritating. His stupid smiles and his tendency to touch too much; the possessive way he said Haruka. His vicious eyes when something he loved was threatened; the way he sometimes looked as if one wrong word would crush his heart like blown glass. The fact that everything Haruka saw in him could easily be a lie.
Humans. Confusing as hell, brief and dangerous as a flash of lightning. Never worth the trouble it took to understand them.
And somehow, somehow he remembered tangling vines, a voice like honeyed poison, the terrible, choking sensation of being bound to a mortal creature that was dying as he watched. The feeling of being dragged along into that death.
But he couldn't remember who, or when, or why. All he knew was that the girl, this “Ayame”, she brought it back. Almost-memories, a vice around his chest like drowning.
He refused to discuss it with Kantarou; Kantarou could just keep giving him those pitiful, worried looks until time ended.
A series of crashes from downstairs snapped him back to the present, and he headed curiously down to investigate. Usually the real chaos didn't begin until Kantarou was awake to begin it.
At the bottom of the stairs, Youko sat in a heap of gleaming cymbals, all of which had apparently fallen from a trapdoor set in the sloping ceiling under the stairs. As Haruka watched, one last cymbal slipped from the compartment, teetered briefly, and landed with a crash on Youko's head.
She looked up at him in dazed despair. "Why?" she asked. "Why me? Why did we have to be named by him? Why cymbals!?"
Haruka stooped and picked up the nearest cymbal. Just metal, nothing special about it. He flicked a finger at it and it rang.
Humans. Confusing as hell.
Haruka’s uncertain memories did prove one thing, though: Kantarou's brand of incomprehensibility was relatively innocent, almost endearing. Haruka was very nearly grateful.
Not that gratitude rendered Kantarou the slightest bit less annoying. On the contrary.
"Misguided musical ambition?" Haruka suggested, tossing his cymbal back to join the others with a clang.
Youko wailed.
Simon (Firefly - but any point in the show or movie or after or before): ankle, fingers, embarrassed
"That isn't what I said," Simon insisted. "I never said that."
"Okay, okay, no need to hurt yourself fussin over it," Kaylee said reassuringly. "If you don't want me stripping, then the clothes'll stay on. Shiny."
"Yes. The clothes can stay on. Good." He approached the table hesitantly, and Kaylee smiled cheerfully up at him.
"Gosh, you embarrass easy, Doc," she chirped.
"About your ankle," he said.
"Yeah, it's real swollen. I guess I sprained it or something? But I don't know, you're the doc, right? What do you think about it, then?"
Simon closed his eyes briefly. "Kaylee...what happened to your ankle?"
"Huh? Oh, some stairs. You know the starboard stairs, they go past the engine that was kind of acting up? I thought I’d better check on it before it went all serious and Cap’n got agitated, but I fell down them. The stairs. And Jayne was shiftin some boxes someplace, and one of them was sittin right at the bottom of the stairs-the ones I fell down-and I guess I...hit the box wrong? Anyway, it hurt a fair bit. Besides which, then I hit my head, but that's pretty tough, so I don't think you need to look at it or nothing."
Simon blinked, a little dazed. "Why was Jayne moving boxes?" he asked.
"Something for Cap’n, I guess. I figured I shouldn’t bother him when he was working by askin him too many questions, though. Jayne doesn’t much care to be interrupted when he’s workin, you know."
Simon considered all this information. He considered it, and he firmly decided that he didn't want to know any more. The less he followed the ridiculous way this ship was run, the happier everyone would be.
"Please put your foot up," he said neutrally. She did, and he let himself focus on the ankle, let any question of how it had gotten this way slip his mind.
"Well, fortunately it isn't broken. Which sounds like a miracle in itself, after everything that happened to it. Turn it to the right. Left. Any pain? I think it should be fine if you stay off of it for a week or two, and I'll-"
He glanced up at Kaylee, and was disturbed to note that she was giving him her intently curious look.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" he asked, already afraid of the answer.
"Oh, it’s just that you're kinda funny sometimes," she said with the smile that didn't make anything she said less upsetting. "Like, you were real panicked about me strippin, but then you had your fingers all over my feet, and that was shiny. Just seems like a strange thing."
Simon stared for a good ten seconds before deciding that there was no response to that that he was willing to give.
"And I'll wrap your ankle and give you some painkillers," he concluded, skipping the intervening conversation entirely. Kaylee giggled.
"Yep, no question," she said happily. "You're a funny one."
AND I'M SPENT.
Hikaru no Go, Hikaru/Akira (any timeline): pink, bored, party, foot stool
Hikaru peered at the room upside-down, draped over Waya's only comfortable chair, and he wondered, not for the first time, why Touya wore so much pink.
Some people looked good in pink. Kawai-san looked good in it, weirdly. Akari and his mom both looked good in it. Kaga could definitely pull off pink. Touya...no. Purple, maybe. Blues, though, God. He'd look great in blues. Dark blue. Why didn't he wear more blue? Maybe Hikaru would buy him something blue, just for the sake of Hikaru's own happiness.
Thinking about Touya's wardrobe this much was clearly a sign that he was bored out of his mind.
Well, it was a Waya party, and Waya parties always went one of two ways: Waya invited go players, go was played, and it was awesome...or Waya tried to invite normal people. Normal people and go players were an awful mix, because the thing was, go players only knew how to communicate with each other through go. Standing around and talking? Instant fail.
Take Touya, as a random, blindingly pink example. He could talk to non-go players, no trouble; Hikaru had seen him do it. He'd been talking to one of Waya's gamer friends, and it had been fine. Touya actually had a weird, inexplicable fear of computer games, but he could talk to gamers because it was like two different countries exchanging information. Go/Non-Go diplomacy.
Then Touya had tried to talk to Isumi, and it had all gone to hell. And why? Touya and Isumi, really. Isumi got along with everybody! And they would have gotten along if they'd been allowed to say, "Hello, nice to see you, would you like to play a game?" But since there were normal people around, they'd had to socialize.
After that awkward fiasco, Touya had come to perch nervously on a foot stool next to Hikaru's chair, and he clearly had no intention of moving until the party was over and he could flee.
It was too bad, because Touya was kind of awesome, in a crazy, screaming-at-you-in-public way. But Touya was a shit when he was uncomfortable, and he was uncomfortable a lot.
Hikaru stretched further over the arm of the chair and reached out to ruffle Touya’s hair. Naturally, Touya gave him an incredulous glare of death.
“You’re alright,” Hikaru said with a grin.
“And you’re insane,” Touya replied. “If we’re stating the obvious.”
“Let’s go get ramen!” Hikaru suggested enthusiastically. “And then we can go to a salon and play.”
“Shindou, that would be rude. The party’s hardly started.”
“No, we’ve been here for hours.”
“We’ve been here an hour.”
“Hours.”
“Forty-five minutes!”
“Oh my God,” said Waya. “I should know better than to leave you two in the same room ever.”
So they ended up being kicked out, which, Hikaru argued, wasn’t rude at all. Touya disagreed. Touya could be so unreasonable; also he wore too much pink. Hikaru resolved to point all this out to him as soon as he’d calmed down.
Tactics, Haruka (roughly vol. 6 or thereabouts): windows, Sunday, boat, cymbals
It was Sunday morning, and Kantarou wouldn't be awake for hours. The idiot had been out messing with youkai until the wee hours of the morning again. Youko had gone distracted, either with worry, or with the thought that Kantarou had probably forgotten to charge overtime.
Haruka could have gone somewhere, since his master didn't require him. Just flying, maybe. It was a beautiful day. He might have watched the boats; the men trying to fish without knowing the rules of the river. It was interesting to see humans attempting to function despite staggering ignorance.
But instead of making use of his time, he was standing in his room, staring blankly out the window. He couldn't decide what was wrong with him, but he was quite sure that it was dire, and also that it was entirely Kantarou's fault.
There was nothing about his idiot master that wasn't irritating. His stupid smiles and his tendency to touch too much; the possessive way he said Haruka. His vicious eyes when something he loved was threatened; the way he sometimes looked as if one wrong word would crush his heart like blown glass. The fact that everything Haruka saw in him could easily be a lie.
Humans. Confusing as hell, brief and dangerous as a flash of lightning. Never worth the trouble it took to understand them.
And somehow, somehow he remembered tangling vines, a voice like honeyed poison, the terrible, choking sensation of being bound to a mortal creature that was dying as he watched. The feeling of being dragged along into that death.
But he couldn't remember who, or when, or why. All he knew was that the girl, this “Ayame”, she brought it back. Almost-memories, a vice around his chest like drowning.
He refused to discuss it with Kantarou; Kantarou could just keep giving him those pitiful, worried looks until time ended.
A series of crashes from downstairs snapped him back to the present, and he headed curiously down to investigate. Usually the real chaos didn't begin until Kantarou was awake to begin it.
At the bottom of the stairs, Youko sat in a heap of gleaming cymbals, all of which had apparently fallen from a trapdoor set in the sloping ceiling under the stairs. As Haruka watched, one last cymbal slipped from the compartment, teetered briefly, and landed with a crash on Youko's head.
She looked up at him in dazed despair. "Why?" she asked. "Why me? Why did we have to be named by him? Why cymbals!?"
Haruka stooped and picked up the nearest cymbal. Just metal, nothing special about it. He flicked a finger at it and it rang.
Humans. Confusing as hell.
Haruka’s uncertain memories did prove one thing, though: Kantarou's brand of incomprehensibility was relatively innocent, almost endearing. Haruka was very nearly grateful.
Not that gratitude rendered Kantarou the slightest bit less annoying. On the contrary.
"Misguided musical ambition?" Haruka suggested, tossing his cymbal back to join the others with a clang.
Youko wailed.
Simon (Firefly - but any point in the show or movie or after or before): ankle, fingers, embarrassed
"That isn't what I said," Simon insisted. "I never said that."
"Okay, okay, no need to hurt yourself fussin over it," Kaylee said reassuringly. "If you don't want me stripping, then the clothes'll stay on. Shiny."
"Yes. The clothes can stay on. Good." He approached the table hesitantly, and Kaylee smiled cheerfully up at him.
"Gosh, you embarrass easy, Doc," she chirped.
"About your ankle," he said.
"Yeah, it's real swollen. I guess I sprained it or something? But I don't know, you're the doc, right? What do you think about it, then?"
Simon closed his eyes briefly. "Kaylee...what happened to your ankle?"
"Huh? Oh, some stairs. You know the starboard stairs, they go past the engine that was kind of acting up? I thought I’d better check on it before it went all serious and Cap’n got agitated, but I fell down them. The stairs. And Jayne was shiftin some boxes someplace, and one of them was sittin right at the bottom of the stairs-the ones I fell down-and I guess I...hit the box wrong? Anyway, it hurt a fair bit. Besides which, then I hit my head, but that's pretty tough, so I don't think you need to look at it or nothing."
Simon blinked, a little dazed. "Why was Jayne moving boxes?" he asked.
"Something for Cap’n, I guess. I figured I shouldn’t bother him when he was working by askin him too many questions, though. Jayne doesn’t much care to be interrupted when he’s workin, you know."
Simon considered all this information. He considered it, and he firmly decided that he didn't want to know any more. The less he followed the ridiculous way this ship was run, the happier everyone would be.
"Please put your foot up," he said neutrally. She did, and he let himself focus on the ankle, let any question of how it had gotten this way slip his mind.
"Well, fortunately it isn't broken. Which sounds like a miracle in itself, after everything that happened to it. Turn it to the right. Left. Any pain? I think it should be fine if you stay off of it for a week or two, and I'll-"
He glanced up at Kaylee, and was disturbed to note that she was giving him her intently curious look.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" he asked, already afraid of the answer.
"Oh, it’s just that you're kinda funny sometimes," she said with the smile that didn't make anything she said less upsetting. "Like, you were real panicked about me strippin, but then you had your fingers all over my feet, and that was shiny. Just seems like a strange thing."
Simon stared for a good ten seconds before deciding that there was no response to that that he was willing to give.
"And I'll wrap your ankle and give you some painkillers," he concluded, skipping the intervening conversation entirely. Kaylee giggled.
"Yep, no question," she said happily. "You're a funny one."