IU #12 TABLE
I CAN GET THIS DONE, WATCH ME
iu_fanfiction Prompts
Challenge #12 1. Misfortunes 2.Knowing me, knowing you3. Sunsets4. Slave
5. Cannibalism
For IU challenges, all fics will be posted in cuts under the table, but the links will still be coordinated with the fics, don't worry I can do this too :D
#1: Soul Thinks You're Gay - Soul Eater - Soul/Kidd - PG - 416 words
“You know, I’ve gotta admit it, this is pretty-”
“No, just no, don’t even think about saying it.” Kidd sobbed on the ground outside of Doctor Stein’s lab.
“Funny.”
“Have you seen what I look like? I’m…I’m you!” For a few point of extra credit, Soul agreed to participate in an experiment for the mad scientist, and Kidd was bored enough to accompany him. He didn’t intend to become a guinea pig. He also didn’t intend to swap bodies with the other boy. “When was the last time you used a comb! Your hair is so messy! And your clothes! If you’re going to get one sleeve dirty you might as well get both of them dirty so at least they’re asymmetrical!”
“Calm down, you know he’s got a way to fix us,” Soul said calmly while scratching the head of his new body, completely disrupting the way the hair fell on Kidd’s old forehead, and he almost had a heart attack.
“I’m the Death God’s son! I’ll have him bothered if I get stuck in…in you for much longer!”
“Am I really that bad to be?”
“I don’t care how great of a guy Maka thinks you are, you’re too asymmetrical! I can’t deal with this!”
“Well,” Soul said without taking Kidd’s problems to heart, “at least I’m not as skinny as you. If you weren’t a natural killer you’d be snapped in half. How does it feel with my muscle on you?”
Kidd paused, but couldn’t really think about how it felt. He used his, no, Soul’s hand to feel around his body. “Different. It feels very different.”
“Are they something you’d want to get in shape for?”
He continued to grasp at his biceps and the muscles on his stomach. Certainly, muscles like his were…impressive. “I don’t think they would suit me, but I guess on other men it would be fine.”
“Ugh, stop feeling me up you freak!”
“What?”
“You’re totally gay for my muscles.” He winked.
Kidd looked back at, well, himself, with disgusted astonishment. “Don’t flatter yourself. We need to get changed back, now.”
And, like how thunder calls lighting, Doctor Stein emerged from his private lab and approached the two boys. “Sorry, but I’m not quite sure how to switch your souls back into the right bodies. Would you mind waiting a few weeks?” Soul laughed and Kidd felt another coronary attack coming
“So Kidd, we’ve got a few weeks, how about we-”
“Get away from me.”
#2: On the Count of Three - KHR! - 8059 - PG13 - 616 words
Here’s the thing that Gokudera despises most about the fucking idiot who has his palm resting so casually on his shoulder and his opposite arm wrapped around his lower back as if he’s some flighty, moronic girl:
Yamamoto Takeshi is the least sophisticated man-he says man now because he was tall enough to be a man way too long ago-who cannot tie ties, differentiate the salad fork from the dinner fork, or speak a decent syllable of Italian, yet he has the most graceful feet and can whirl the uncoordinated pyrotechnic in a lesson on ballroom dancing. Teaching him! The artistically savvy, refined, mafioso! What was wrong with the world today?
“So tell me, how does some clumsy athlete freak learn how to dance? I don’t appreciate that I’ll be outdone by you at Tsuna’s twentieth birthday ball tomorrow night,” Gokudera whines, to which Yamamoto laughs back.
“Ahaha, it just shows you that no matter how long you’re friends with someone, there’s always going to be a few surprises!”
“Whose friend are you now?” he snarls while losing track of his feet and almost throws the waltz completely off.
“Don’t worry Gokudera, you’re still doing really well,” Yamamoto says as words of encouragement, but encouragement was something Gokudera still didn’t take well. “Around the second year of middle school, my coach said I could use a little more training, but he said dancing would help. And look; now it’s helping you!”
“Yeah, great, I’m really grateful that you’re passing down your gift, moron.” And it’s like he’s received some curse when around this guy, because as soon as his tongue lashes out at him his legs give in and he can’t control his movements anymore.
Here’s an even worse thing Gokudera hates about Yamamoto Takeshi: since he seems to be the only one that sees his absent-mindedness a problem, he might just technically be perfect. Not that being a natural-born killer and a natural-born dancer makes you perfect, but he supposes it’s also the way he reacts with such urgency as Gokudera trips over his own flustered self, and the way his arms envelop him so tightly and he looks at anyone with such compassion, like they’re the only person in the world.
Or maybe he just does that to him. It doesn’t matter. Yamamoto is his rival, not his knight in shining armor who just happened to have a lucky catch before he fell.
If it doesn’t matter, why is he blushing? Since when has it fucking come down to this?
“Gokudera, did you sprain an ankle? Is something wrong?” Yamamoto asks obliviously. He strains his ears to hear the words from the storm guardian’s mouth but he hears only faint murmurs.
“I said I’m really good at playing football you idiot!” Gokudera says a lot louder.
“But Gokudera, you have such a small frame for that! You could get crushed!”
“Not American football you idiot, soccer! I mean, why would I ever tell you about this? It’s not like someone like me really likes running around with a bunch of sweaty guys just to kick a ball…” He trails off and all the swordsman could do was blink.
Well, blink, and afterward laugh until he cried.
“I mean, I said surprises, but this, this is something else!”
“Why the hell would something like soccer be so funny to you, asshole?”
Yamamoto ceases his laughter and slyly smirked at Gokudera. “Whose friend are you now?”
Here, without any further exaggerations, is the one thing Gokudera could strangle and bomb Yamamoto to death for: he could make Gokudera see no one but him for the rest of their lives, and he probably knows it.
#3: WIP
#4: WIP
#5: Dreams About Bugs - FFXII - Vaan/Penelo - PG - 385 words
When off on hunts, Vaan liked to think of their inconvenient overnight stays as fun little “camping trips” to ease his mind. However, he seemed to be awake even if it wasn’t his turn to keep guard. Penelo noticed this as the flames from their waning fire illuminated the dark circles under his eyes.
“So what kind of nightmare has been keeping this big bad sky pirate up all night?” Penelo asks.
“What makes you think I’m having bad dreams?”
“Let’s put it this way,” she says coyly while bringing her knees to her chest to huddle from the night’s chill. “Because of Balthier’s great ideas, we’re camping out in an abandoned mine shaft.”
“Yeah, but, I mean, if Lhusu is abandoned, what’s there to fear?”
“This place is crawling with insects-”
“Ha! I could crush them with my shoes!”
“You know, except for the ones that are about six feet tall-”
“What are you getting at?” Vaan’s voice was audibly shaking, and he already felt Penelo’s motherly tone coming out at him. He figured he might as well be honest, for both of their sakes. “You know how some of those bugs…those huge ones, they feed on each other just to stay alive?”
“If you’re thinking about eating Balthier just to take control of his ship, I’ve got some bad news for you.”
“I had a dream you were a bug.”
Penelo simply blinked. It was the canned response when Vaan said something that outlandish “You dreamt I was one of those ugly beetles?”
“I’d say you already look like one, but trust me, it was fine. And you were going to get eaten.”
The girl crawled out from under the thin tunic she used as a blanket and sat next to the on-edge Vaan. She ran a hand through his coarse hair, the way she used to when they were troubled street urchins and she was the closest thing to a guardian he could have. “You know,” she began, “it would have been a lot easier if you just said you wanted to protect me.”
Vaan resisted the urge to laugh it off, but tiredly smiled and ran his hand through her golden locks, except without the kind of love a mother would give, and a little more of something else.
iu_fanfiction Prompts
Challenge #12 1. Misfortunes 2.Knowing me, knowing you3. Sunsets4. Slave
5. Cannibalism
For IU challenges, all fics will be posted in cuts under the table, but the links will still be coordinated with the fics, don't worry I can do this too :D
#1: Soul Thinks You're Gay - Soul Eater - Soul/Kidd - PG - 416 words
“You know, I’ve gotta admit it, this is pretty-”
“No, just no, don’t even think about saying it.” Kidd sobbed on the ground outside of Doctor Stein’s lab.
“Funny.”
“Have you seen what I look like? I’m…I’m you!” For a few point of extra credit, Soul agreed to participate in an experiment for the mad scientist, and Kidd was bored enough to accompany him. He didn’t intend to become a guinea pig. He also didn’t intend to swap bodies with the other boy. “When was the last time you used a comb! Your hair is so messy! And your clothes! If you’re going to get one sleeve dirty you might as well get both of them dirty so at least they’re asymmetrical!”
“Calm down, you know he’s got a way to fix us,” Soul said calmly while scratching the head of his new body, completely disrupting the way the hair fell on Kidd’s old forehead, and he almost had a heart attack.
“I’m the Death God’s son! I’ll have him bothered if I get stuck in…in you for much longer!”
“Am I really that bad to be?”
“I don’t care how great of a guy Maka thinks you are, you’re too asymmetrical! I can’t deal with this!”
“Well,” Soul said without taking Kidd’s problems to heart, “at least I’m not as skinny as you. If you weren’t a natural killer you’d be snapped in half. How does it feel with my muscle on you?”
Kidd paused, but couldn’t really think about how it felt. He used his, no, Soul’s hand to feel around his body. “Different. It feels very different.”
“Are they something you’d want to get in shape for?”
He continued to grasp at his biceps and the muscles on his stomach. Certainly, muscles like his were…impressive. “I don’t think they would suit me, but I guess on other men it would be fine.”
“Ugh, stop feeling me up you freak!”
“What?”
“You’re totally gay for my muscles.” He winked.
Kidd looked back at, well, himself, with disgusted astonishment. “Don’t flatter yourself. We need to get changed back, now.”
And, like how thunder calls lighting, Doctor Stein emerged from his private lab and approached the two boys. “Sorry, but I’m not quite sure how to switch your souls back into the right bodies. Would you mind waiting a few weeks?” Soul laughed and Kidd felt another coronary attack coming
“So Kidd, we’ve got a few weeks, how about we-”
“Get away from me.”
#2: On the Count of Three - KHR! - 8059 - PG13 - 616 words
Here’s the thing that Gokudera despises most about the fucking idiot who has his palm resting so casually on his shoulder and his opposite arm wrapped around his lower back as if he’s some flighty, moronic girl:
Yamamoto Takeshi is the least sophisticated man-he says man now because he was tall enough to be a man way too long ago-who cannot tie ties, differentiate the salad fork from the dinner fork, or speak a decent syllable of Italian, yet he has the most graceful feet and can whirl the uncoordinated pyrotechnic in a lesson on ballroom dancing. Teaching him! The artistically savvy, refined, mafioso! What was wrong with the world today?
“So tell me, how does some clumsy athlete freak learn how to dance? I don’t appreciate that I’ll be outdone by you at Tsuna’s twentieth birthday ball tomorrow night,” Gokudera whines, to which Yamamoto laughs back.
“Ahaha, it just shows you that no matter how long you’re friends with someone, there’s always going to be a few surprises!”
“Whose friend are you now?” he snarls while losing track of his feet and almost throws the waltz completely off.
“Don’t worry Gokudera, you’re still doing really well,” Yamamoto says as words of encouragement, but encouragement was something Gokudera still didn’t take well. “Around the second year of middle school, my coach said I could use a little more training, but he said dancing would help. And look; now it’s helping you!”
“Yeah, great, I’m really grateful that you’re passing down your gift, moron.” And it’s like he’s received some curse when around this guy, because as soon as his tongue lashes out at him his legs give in and he can’t control his movements anymore.
Here’s an even worse thing Gokudera hates about Yamamoto Takeshi: since he seems to be the only one that sees his absent-mindedness a problem, he might just technically be perfect. Not that being a natural-born killer and a natural-born dancer makes you perfect, but he supposes it’s also the way he reacts with such urgency as Gokudera trips over his own flustered self, and the way his arms envelop him so tightly and he looks at anyone with such compassion, like they’re the only person in the world.
Or maybe he just does that to him. It doesn’t matter. Yamamoto is his rival, not his knight in shining armor who just happened to have a lucky catch before he fell.
If it doesn’t matter, why is he blushing? Since when has it fucking come down to this?
“Gokudera, did you sprain an ankle? Is something wrong?” Yamamoto asks obliviously. He strains his ears to hear the words from the storm guardian’s mouth but he hears only faint murmurs.
“I said I’m really good at playing football you idiot!” Gokudera says a lot louder.
“But Gokudera, you have such a small frame for that! You could get crushed!”
“Not American football you idiot, soccer! I mean, why would I ever tell you about this? It’s not like someone like me really likes running around with a bunch of sweaty guys just to kick a ball…” He trails off and all the swordsman could do was blink.
Well, blink, and afterward laugh until he cried.
“I mean, I said surprises, but this, this is something else!”
“Why the hell would something like soccer be so funny to you, asshole?”
Yamamoto ceases his laughter and slyly smirked at Gokudera. “Whose friend are you now?”
Here, without any further exaggerations, is the one thing Gokudera could strangle and bomb Yamamoto to death for: he could make Gokudera see no one but him for the rest of their lives, and he probably knows it.
#3: WIP
#4: WIP
#5: Dreams About Bugs - FFXII - Vaan/Penelo - PG - 385 words
When off on hunts, Vaan liked to think of their inconvenient overnight stays as fun little “camping trips” to ease his mind. However, he seemed to be awake even if it wasn’t his turn to keep guard. Penelo noticed this as the flames from their waning fire illuminated the dark circles under his eyes.
“So what kind of nightmare has been keeping this big bad sky pirate up all night?” Penelo asks.
“What makes you think I’m having bad dreams?”
“Let’s put it this way,” she says coyly while bringing her knees to her chest to huddle from the night’s chill. “Because of Balthier’s great ideas, we’re camping out in an abandoned mine shaft.”
“Yeah, but, I mean, if Lhusu is abandoned, what’s there to fear?”
“This place is crawling with insects-”
“Ha! I could crush them with my shoes!”
“You know, except for the ones that are about six feet tall-”
“What are you getting at?” Vaan’s voice was audibly shaking, and he already felt Penelo’s motherly tone coming out at him. He figured he might as well be honest, for both of their sakes. “You know how some of those bugs…those huge ones, they feed on each other just to stay alive?”
“If you’re thinking about eating Balthier just to take control of his ship, I’ve got some bad news for you.”
“I had a dream you were a bug.”
Penelo simply blinked. It was the canned response when Vaan said something that outlandish “You dreamt I was one of those ugly beetles?”
“I’d say you already look like one, but trust me, it was fine. And you were going to get eaten.”
The girl crawled out from under the thin tunic she used as a blanket and sat next to the on-edge Vaan. She ran a hand through his coarse hair, the way she used to when they were troubled street urchins and she was the closest thing to a guardian he could have. “You know,” she began, “it would have been a lot easier if you just said you wanted to protect me.”
Vaan resisted the urge to laugh it off, but tiredly smiled and ran his hand through her golden locks, except without the kind of love a mother would give, and a little more of something else.