(no subject)
A message to all the Nigerian men I work with: it's great that you're able to function in this country at all. I hope my pants don't offend you. That said, kindly keep your chauvinist attitudes a little closer to your chests, thank you so kindly.
None of them will read that, I dearly trust. Although it's not inconceivable; I found out that some of a near relative's students came across my site coming through his. Some of them are also otaku, but still, wow, the uncomfort... Not ashamed of him and definitely not of his site (he's a clergy kind of deal and will marry anybody of any faith, gender, or combination--no, not like that ;^P), but did he have to link my poor yaoiful site to something RLy? =.= (headache)
Anyway--content!
First of all, permetaform, I did hear you say you think it's old and bad, but I happen to disagree. And anyway, WL wanted to see it. And I'll plug any fic as beautifully and sarcastically written as this one, especially if it makes fun of rabid fangirls.
And the Music Softly Played, by Kanzeyori.
And while you're there, try the piece that corrupted me: Hiding in the Light
(the second one requires you to understand at least the basics about Slayers; the first does not)
In other news, talking of Slayers, the comic book sale had a sale, so I bought some. The first novel is good, and I'm definitely buying the second when it comes out, but, well... Despite my wild glee at aquiring scannable Xellos, I have to admit I'm kinda disappointed. Either the translation sucks or the manga just doesn't make sense. I'm leaning towards the latter.
Ah, Minekura-san, you'll never let me down!
So to Saiyuki I return.
Well, okay, that's not why. The truth is, I was reading hane's The Crush this afternoon (I'm pretty sure I'd come in at the end the last time I saw it. It makes so much more sense now, Hane, and I stare in awe anew) when this idea bit me.
Somebody wanted to see a drunk Hakkai, as I recall. Now, I can just about manage his usual practically-sane state of mind, but drunk? Still, the season is upon us, and all that, and so I present:
The day after the party, all is not as it should be. Or maybe it is. (A fic would have to be pretty extreme before I posted warnings to this crowd (grins). Cross-posted here, at the pit, on my site, at EftW--please review somewhere! ^.^
Come the Morning
by Nightfall
Disclaimer: All your Jeep is belong to Minekura-san.
Notes: Honestly, I don't think Hakkai's spine and claws
are this well integrated into his psyche (he'd probably
be all abashed about it, anyway). But wouldn't it be
fun if they were? Also, I'm the last person in the world
who should be writing hangover stories, but what can you
do when they bite? Anyway, happy holidays, and I hope you
all have a gentle winter.
Oddly enough, the bone-wracking pain didn't feel like an
actual head injury. And when he cracked his eye open, the
light attacked it with spears and daggers, but there were
no abnormal glows around anything. So the chances were good
that it wasn't a migraine. His stomach roiled, but it was
an unusually contained nausea, more a sense of rejection
than of illness.
Whatever this was, an infusion of qi probably wouldn't hurt.
His own energies weren't soothing to him, as others seemed
to find them, but they got the job done. And since the temple
he had learned to meditate at was Kinzan and while his face
was healing, no amount of pain or noise could distract him.
Orientation returned as his head cleared. This was unfortunate.
As his sense of time and space returned so, unfortunately, did
his awareness of the previous night.
He didn't think he was in for death by gunshot. It had been
perhaps, ah, unwise of him to paralyze that assassin of
Gyokumon Kaishou's from behind and take Goku's permanent marker
and write 'My lady lord is a thief and a coward and a social
mountaineer' all over his stripped body.
But, well, Sanzo's eyes had bugged out (an expression
to remember on cold nights) and he'd turned away with
high, tight, unsteady shoulders instead of putting an
end to it. And besides, Yaone-san had told him all
about the empress, and she thoroughly deserved it. And
if something came of it, better sooner than later, perhaps,
and while they expected it.
But although Goku and Gojyo had joined in after the first
initial moment of jaw-dropping disbelief, scribbling
'party-crasher' and 'I attack drunk baby monkeys' and
'who you calling chibi-saru you lousy cockroach' and '<--See?
I lose, too!' and such in smaller handwriting around
Hakkai's smooth calligraphy, he might be in for trouble in
that department.
The chocolate-chili cocoa had seemed like such a good idea
at the time. He was almost sure he had read somewhere that
the Aztecs of Atlantis did something like that. Only he
hadn't had any chili, so he'd had to substitute wasabi, and
he might have overestimated. And it had looked so much like
the beginnings of a usual brown sauce that he seemed to
remember adding soy sauce and ginger and garlic and then,
as Goku turned funny colors and shoveled cold rice into his
mouth at tremendous rates and howled betrayal, tasting the
results and saying how much it reminded him of Sanzo--
Oh, dear.
And Goku's chocolate had landed all over Sanzo, and, well,
perhaps casually ripping his robes off him and making a sort
of toga for him out of the inn's curtains in the middle of
the common room hadn't been very tactful, no matter how much
the color suited. He was probably in trouble everyone for
that, because Goku had very definite ideas about who was
allowed to tear Sanzo's clothes (Goku) and so did Sanzo (no
one), and Gojyo had ideas about who Hakkai was allowed to
tear clothes off of. But at the time no one had actually
objected...
Only because they were all busy scrambling away.
And he remembered feeling very hurt by that and grabbing Gojyo
by the seat of his pants and demanding an explanation, and he
wasn't at all sure what had happened after that, but all of his
limbs seemed to be intact, so perhaps someone had mercifully
knocked him from behind.
Only, there hadn't been an actual head injury.
Oh, dear.
He squirmed experimentally. Yes, he was indeed tied to
the bed. With his own layman's sash, but not with the
usual easily-escapable knots. Hm.
"You can let me out now," he said calmly.
"Sorry," Gojyo's voice said, unapologetically. He turned
his head to look, but saw only a defensive lump of blankets
next to him.
"It was probably for the best," he admitted.
"No, I mean sorry as in like hell I'm letting you out until
I'm sure you're back in your right mind, because damn if I
can tell the difference."
"Oh," Hakkai said, dashed. "Was I that bad?"
The blankets cracked long enough to reveal a glaring crimson
eye.
"Oh."
"Catch us trying to get you drunk again," Gojyo snarled.
"It seems to have worked," Hakkai noted. "May I ask what
it was?"
"Dunno," Gojyo said shortly. "It was blue. You got all
patient and reasonable. We're talking some scary
shit here, Hakkai."
"So I gather," he agreed ruefully. Blue? "But really, you
can let me out. I've already purified my bloodstream, and I
think I'd better start breakfast."
"Lunch."
"Oh."
"And what," Gojyo asked menacingly, "would you make for lunch?"
"Nothing fancy," Hakkai said meekly and then, just because,
added, "Perhaps some ramen with mayonnaise and chutney, and
perhaps I could apologize to Goku with, hm, if I mixed the
rest of that cocoa with some mashed bananas it might--"
"Purified my ass!" Gojyo yelped.
"That sounds interesting," Hakkai said mildly. "Before or
after lunch?"
A strangled, high-pitched noise emerged from the blankets.
"Listen, pal," Gojyo sputtered, "If you think for one minute--"
But Hakkai was already smiling. "Gojyo," he said, a laughing,
soothing reproach. "My apologies. I couldn't resist. We'll
order from the kitchens, of course. And nothing worse than
sukiyaki tonight, I promise."
"Fuck you," Gojyo said sulkily.
"If you like," Hakkai said agreeably, perking up. "I probably
owe you an apology, as well, and as I don't seem to be going
anywhere..."
"You bet your ass you owe me an apology," Gojyo snarled, and
threw off the blankets. "You owe me a dozen! You fucking
paralyzed me, you bastard!"
"Ohhhhhh," Hakkai whispered, entranced, and tried to reach
out to touch. The scarf held him back.
Gojyo's hair was bound in a thousand little braids, neatly
waterfalling down to his shoulders like delicate strings of
tiny pine berries. Oh, he wished he remembered doing that.
And how he was looking forward to taking them out... It would
be a new kind of 'kinky' for Gojyo. At least he'd had enough
sense to aim a few of them down over Gojyo's face, to preserve
his scarred friend's sense of privacy.
But more than that, winding over Gojyo's naked skin, someone
had bitten a very familiar leaf-and-vine pattern, and it went
all the way down.
"Gojyo," he breathed, and strained against the scarf,
his fingers blossoming a yearning ache. And not just his fingers.
Gojyo was looking at him, looking as though he'd been cut off,
the floor sucked away. He hesitated. "I thought you were
going to apologize," he said gruffly.
"I take it back," Hakkai said, tugging his wrists impatiently.
"I regret nothing. But let me out and I'll thank you."
"Nuh-uh," Gojyo said firmly, but a corner of his mouth was tugging
up. "You're a dangerous man, mister. You can thank me right where
you are."
"I expect," Hakkai said, smiling thoughtfully, "that I can."
[end]
In other other news, I have made four gingerbread houses in the last four days (and had to take a painkiller for my hand after squeezing all that icing), remembered why I heart Garak/Bashir, started to wonder about Sisko/Dukat, and failed to acquire The Frog Ashtray for a friend who deserves it. (glum) But the point is, it exists! It really does! And if I were a smoker, I could amuse myself enormously while committing slow suicide!!
Whoa. Too bitter. I better go draw something or something. ^_^;
None of them will read that, I dearly trust. Although it's not inconceivable; I found out that some of a near relative's students came across my site coming through his. Some of them are also otaku, but still, wow, the uncomfort... Not ashamed of him and definitely not of his site (he's a clergy kind of deal and will marry anybody of any faith, gender, or combination--no, not like that ;^P), but did he have to link my poor yaoiful site to something RLy? =.= (headache)
Anyway--content!
First of all, permetaform, I did hear you say you think it's old and bad, but I happen to disagree. And anyway, WL wanted to see it. And I'll plug any fic as beautifully and sarcastically written as this one, especially if it makes fun of rabid fangirls.
And the Music Softly Played, by Kanzeyori.
And while you're there, try the piece that corrupted me: Hiding in the Light
(the second one requires you to understand at least the basics about Slayers; the first does not)
In other news, talking of Slayers, the comic book sale had a sale, so I bought some. The first novel is good, and I'm definitely buying the second when it comes out, but, well... Despite my wild glee at aquiring scannable Xellos, I have to admit I'm kinda disappointed. Either the translation sucks or the manga just doesn't make sense. I'm leaning towards the latter.
Ah, Minekura-san, you'll never let me down!
So to Saiyuki I return.
Well, okay, that's not why. The truth is, I was reading hane's The Crush this afternoon (I'm pretty sure I'd come in at the end the last time I saw it. It makes so much more sense now, Hane, and I stare in awe anew) when this idea bit me.
Somebody wanted to see a drunk Hakkai, as I recall. Now, I can just about manage his usual practically-sane state of mind, but drunk? Still, the season is upon us, and all that, and so I present:
The day after the party, all is not as it should be. Or maybe it is. (A fic would have to be pretty extreme before I posted warnings to this crowd (grins). Cross-posted here, at the pit, on my site, at EftW--please review somewhere! ^.^
Come the Morning
by Nightfall
Disclaimer: All your Jeep is belong to Minekura-san.
Notes: Honestly, I don't think Hakkai's spine and claws
are this well integrated into his psyche (he'd probably
be all abashed about it, anyway). But wouldn't it be
fun if they were? Also, I'm the last person in the world
who should be writing hangover stories, but what can you
do when they bite? Anyway, happy holidays, and I hope you
all have a gentle winter.
Oddly enough, the bone-wracking pain didn't feel like an
actual head injury. And when he cracked his eye open, the
light attacked it with spears and daggers, but there were
no abnormal glows around anything. So the chances were good
that it wasn't a migraine. His stomach roiled, but it was
an unusually contained nausea, more a sense of rejection
than of illness.
Whatever this was, an infusion of qi probably wouldn't hurt.
His own energies weren't soothing to him, as others seemed
to find them, but they got the job done. And since the temple
he had learned to meditate at was Kinzan and while his face
was healing, no amount of pain or noise could distract him.
Orientation returned as his head cleared. This was unfortunate.
As his sense of time and space returned so, unfortunately, did
his awareness of the previous night.
He didn't think he was in for death by gunshot. It had been
perhaps, ah, unwise of him to paralyze that assassin of
Gyokumon Kaishou's from behind and take Goku's permanent marker
and write 'My lady lord is a thief and a coward and a social
mountaineer' all over his stripped body.
But, well, Sanzo's eyes had bugged out (an expression
to remember on cold nights) and he'd turned away with
high, tight, unsteady shoulders instead of putting an
end to it. And besides, Yaone-san had told him all
about the empress, and she thoroughly deserved it. And
if something came of it, better sooner than later, perhaps,
and while they expected it.
But although Goku and Gojyo had joined in after the first
initial moment of jaw-dropping disbelief, scribbling
'party-crasher' and 'I attack drunk baby monkeys' and
'who you calling chibi-saru you lousy cockroach' and '<--See?
I lose, too!' and such in smaller handwriting around
Hakkai's smooth calligraphy, he might be in for trouble in
that department.
The chocolate-chili cocoa had seemed like such a good idea
at the time. He was almost sure he had read somewhere that
the Aztecs of Atlantis did something like that. Only he
hadn't had any chili, so he'd had to substitute wasabi, and
he might have overestimated. And it had looked so much like
the beginnings of a usual brown sauce that he seemed to
remember adding soy sauce and ginger and garlic and then,
as Goku turned funny colors and shoveled cold rice into his
mouth at tremendous rates and howled betrayal, tasting the
results and saying how much it reminded him of Sanzo--
Oh, dear.
And Goku's chocolate had landed all over Sanzo, and, well,
perhaps casually ripping his robes off him and making a sort
of toga for him out of the inn's curtains in the middle of
the common room hadn't been very tactful, no matter how much
the color suited. He was probably in trouble everyone for
that, because Goku had very definite ideas about who was
allowed to tear Sanzo's clothes (Goku) and so did Sanzo (no
one), and Gojyo had ideas about who Hakkai was allowed to
tear clothes off of. But at the time no one had actually
objected...
Only because they were all busy scrambling away.
And he remembered feeling very hurt by that and grabbing Gojyo
by the seat of his pants and demanding an explanation, and he
wasn't at all sure what had happened after that, but all of his
limbs seemed to be intact, so perhaps someone had mercifully
knocked him from behind.
Only, there hadn't been an actual head injury.
Oh, dear.
He squirmed experimentally. Yes, he was indeed tied to
the bed. With his own layman's sash, but not with the
usual easily-escapable knots. Hm.
"You can let me out now," he said calmly.
"Sorry," Gojyo's voice said, unapologetically. He turned
his head to look, but saw only a defensive lump of blankets
next to him.
"It was probably for the best," he admitted.
"No, I mean sorry as in like hell I'm letting you out until
I'm sure you're back in your right mind, because damn if I
can tell the difference."
"Oh," Hakkai said, dashed. "Was I that bad?"
The blankets cracked long enough to reveal a glaring crimson
eye.
"Oh."
"Catch us trying to get you drunk again," Gojyo snarled.
"It seems to have worked," Hakkai noted. "May I ask what
it was?"
"Dunno," Gojyo said shortly. "It was blue. You got all
patient and reasonable. We're talking some scary
shit here, Hakkai."
"So I gather," he agreed ruefully. Blue? "But really, you
can let me out. I've already purified my bloodstream, and I
think I'd better start breakfast."
"Lunch."
"Oh."
"And what," Gojyo asked menacingly, "would you make for lunch?"
"Nothing fancy," Hakkai said meekly and then, just because,
added, "Perhaps some ramen with mayonnaise and chutney, and
perhaps I could apologize to Goku with, hm, if I mixed the
rest of that cocoa with some mashed bananas it might--"
"Purified my ass!" Gojyo yelped.
"That sounds interesting," Hakkai said mildly. "Before or
after lunch?"
A strangled, high-pitched noise emerged from the blankets.
"Listen, pal," Gojyo sputtered, "If you think for one minute--"
But Hakkai was already smiling. "Gojyo," he said, a laughing,
soothing reproach. "My apologies. I couldn't resist. We'll
order from the kitchens, of course. And nothing worse than
sukiyaki tonight, I promise."
"Fuck you," Gojyo said sulkily.
"If you like," Hakkai said agreeably, perking up. "I probably
owe you an apology, as well, and as I don't seem to be going
anywhere..."
"You bet your ass you owe me an apology," Gojyo snarled, and
threw off the blankets. "You owe me a dozen! You fucking
paralyzed me, you bastard!"
"Ohhhhhh," Hakkai whispered, entranced, and tried to reach
out to touch. The scarf held him back.
Gojyo's hair was bound in a thousand little braids, neatly
waterfalling down to his shoulders like delicate strings of
tiny pine berries. Oh, he wished he remembered doing that.
And how he was looking forward to taking them out... It would
be a new kind of 'kinky' for Gojyo. At least he'd had enough
sense to aim a few of them down over Gojyo's face, to preserve
his scarred friend's sense of privacy.
But more than that, winding over Gojyo's naked skin, someone
had bitten a very familiar leaf-and-vine pattern, and it went
all the way down.
"Gojyo," he breathed, and strained against the scarf,
his fingers blossoming a yearning ache. And not just his fingers.
Gojyo was looking at him, looking as though he'd been cut off,
the floor sucked away. He hesitated. "I thought you were
going to apologize," he said gruffly.
"I take it back," Hakkai said, tugging his wrists impatiently.
"I regret nothing. But let me out and I'll thank you."
"Nuh-uh," Gojyo said firmly, but a corner of his mouth was tugging
up. "You're a dangerous man, mister. You can thank me right where
you are."
"I expect," Hakkai said, smiling thoughtfully, "that I can."
[end]
In other other news, I have made four gingerbread houses in the last four days (and had to take a painkiller for my hand after squeezing all that icing), remembered why I heart Garak/Bashir, started to wonder about Sisko/Dukat, and failed to acquire The Frog Ashtray for a friend who deserves it. (glum) But the point is, it exists! It really does! And if I were a smoker, I could amuse myself enormously while committing slow suicide!!
Whoa. Too bitter. I better go draw something or something. ^_^;