much madness is divinest sense to a discerning eye
Redecorating
Ran across this banner (by the talented negiramenofdoom) today and just had to do something with it, so... new layout it is! tokyocentricity tokyocentricity tokyocentricity ♥
Speaking of Panic!...
Does anyone have A Fever You Can't Sweat Out in .mp3, 192kbps or higher? I just realised that I have half the songs from that album in .wma, and all in varying bit rates. :/ Ew, messy. Thanks, polyurethane! ♥
Roleplaying
I have my application for Jirou at pot_university finished. I'm gonna sit on it for as long as I'll let myself, though. Makes me feel less impulsive, and gives me more time to drag in more hapless victims like intimidate and mahoubunnybell. ;D Anyone else wanna come~?
Works-in-Progress
Meme stolen from rosivan~ ♥
When you see this, post a little weensy excerpt from as many random works-in-progress as you can find lying around. Who knows? Maybe inspiration will burst forth and do something, um, inspiration-y.
Fourteen Eighteen(!) excerpts, under the cut to save your souls. Some are taken from explicit content, but none of the passages are overtly explicit, themselves. Prince of Tennis, Ace Attorney, Ouran. ♥ Feel free to ask me about any of them; I'll show more if something catches your fancy.
★ Celebrity Secrets (tentative title): Prince of Tennis; Atobe. G, gen/character study.
There are millions of things that the world doesn't know about Atobe Keigo.
He makes faces when you have your back to him, instead of elegantly rolling his eyes the way he normally might. If you catch him, he'll make you feel like you're the ridiculous one.
The beauty mark beneath his eye is just one of many. They're scattered on his shoulders and back, with a few wandering down his torso as far as his hips, and a stray one on his rear end that he'll deny for never having seen it, himself.
★ Sucker For Love: Ouran Host Club; Tamaki x Ayame. PG-13, smut/angst.
If he didn't know any better, he'd think she wasn't paying attention. Her head is turned away, her eyes and hands busy somewhere else, but they've been having these rendezvous a little too long for him to think that she's ignoring him. He does wish she'd look his way, though, just once.
"Ayame," he whispers, leaning down as far as his body will allow. Her eyes flick toward him, then away again.
"What is it?"
He feels his shoulders slump just slightly at her flat tone, and he sighs. "Look at me, please?" Taking his hands from her breasts, he stills and reaches forward to remove her glasses. Much like Kyouya's, they get in the way of her eyes and her expressions, and Tamaki hates that.
★ The One Where Jirou's Retarded (working title): Prince of Tennis; Jirou & Chinen. G, gen/friendship.
"I don't have friends," Chinen informed him.
Now, what Chinen meant by that was that he didn't have friends - it wasn't something he did. He did not mean that he had no friends, or that he wanted any. Unfortunately, that was just how Akutagawa Jirou took it.
"You don't have friends?!" the boy cried, recoiling as if Chinen had just explained that he was single-handedly responsible for Hiroshima and Nagasaki. "Why?!"
Chinen leaned forward. "Because everyone's afraid of me." It was a pointed statement, but it was either pointing in the wrong direction, or this kid was dyslexic.
"I'm not afraid of you!" he chirped, his face lighting up again as he leaned in, too, hands on Chinen's knees.
★ Courthouse Graffiti: Ace Attorney; Apollo x Klavier, Phoenix x Miles. PG, smut/humour.
Beside them, a long zipper sounded amidst the ambiguous rustling. "I can't believe you can wear this in a courthouse," Edgeworth chided absently.
The aforementioned sweatshirt fell to the floor, obscuring their feet, and Phoenix quipped, "Well, now I'm not wearing it in a courthouse."
Apollo pulled another face. He couldn't believe he was seriously hearing this! Carefully, he placed his hands over his ears, hoping to block out the suggestive dialogue. His attempts were in vain; the bathroom was quiet, and the walls bounced every tiny sound back tenfold.
More clothing rustled loudly beside them. Down atop the sweatshirt came a white t-shirt. All at once, Apollo was struck with a slightly horrifying thought: Phoenix Wright was shirtless in a courthouse just a few feet away from him. And he was still wearing his hat.
★ Chasing the Dark Horse (tentative title): Prince of Tennis; Shitenhouji ensemble. PG, gen/action.
"You have to give him up, Chitose."
"No, I don't."
He offered no explanation. The attorney dropped something on the desk and walked across the room again, skulking near the door.
"Your sister's a lovely girl," he said, his voice ripe with anticipated triumph.
She was. Senri's eyes darkened for the first time as he gazed down at the picture, lips parting on her name. She stared back at him laughingly, as alive and as sparkling as the day he'd taken the picture that summer.
He didn't ask. He didn't need to.
The attorneys didn't ask again.
"Yes," Senri said, voice soft. "He ordered me to kill those people."
★ Okinawa Beat (tentative title): Prince of Tennis; Higa ensemble. PG, gen/drama.
Some days, I'm half a step, half a lost lead, half a dead end from just up and quitting, emptying out my desk and locker and walking away for good. What we do is good, I know. But the mistakes we make cost lives, in part and in whole, and some days, I can't take one more mistake from myself.
Kite never talks me out of it. Nine times of ten, it's Hirakoba. He'll guilt me, argue with me, beat me down until I know he's right, and he'll walk away and leave me with the decision: leave and throw away all the good I've done and all the good I'll do, or stay and make a few more mistakes in the midst of it all.
When I turn around, slam my locker and throw my stuff on the desk, I only have to say 'let's go,' and it's the only time Kite will follow me unquestioningly.
★ The One Where Diego Does Lana (working title): Ace Attorney; Diego x Lana. PG, romance.
"I'm sorry, sir, this is a crime scene; off-limits to civilians."
She looks like she just stepped out of Babes in Uniform 2012. It's all Diego can do not to whistle. She's a cop, he reminds himself, chuckling at his own inherent weakness. Just a pretty one.
"What kinda crime?" he asks, edging closer to the yellow tape and peering over it, down the long alley behind the building.
She puts a hand in front of him, so he leans forward until she's touching his chest. She's quick to pull her hand back, brow knitting minutely in frustration. How cute, he thinks, and hides his smile behind his coffee as he retreats.
★ According to Plan: Prince of Tennis; Gakuto x Yuushi. R, romance/smut.
This was not, Yuushi thought at the end of a delicious shiver, how he had imagined their first time would be. At all.
He'd envisioned an evening winter romp - this winter, probably - curled up in front of the fire at Yuushi's house while his father was on one of his week-long shifts in the ER. Gakuto got cold easily; he was too damn skinny for winter, but Yuushi didn't mind, because he'd just slide up behind him and wrap him up - warm him from the inside out. They'd snuggle, and Gakuto would complain, but they both knew that was just a matter of course. Yuushi would rain kisses on him, and the heat of the fire would lead one thing into the next until they were all tangled up, faces flushed and gasping each other's names against warm skin.
The flame's heat left him as he felt his bare shoulders pressed against cold metal. No, this was decidedly not how he had imagined it. There were no rose petals, no firelight patterns dancing on their skin, no snowflakes on the windowpane. It was the peak of summer, nearly thirty-eight degrees out; their skin was sticky with sweat and they were in a public bathroom stall, for God's sake.
★ Quitting Your Day Job: Ace Attorney; GS2 ensemble + Edgeworth. PG, gen/humour.
Max Galactica had moved on after the circus failed to thrive under Moe's leadership. He'd been keeping in touch with Maya, it seemed, and he now spent his days as...
"Lady Galactica, at your service!"
Phoenix hazarded a glance and cringed slightly. It was strange, but somehow, Max was pretty. Androgynous and incredibly damn tall, but pretty. Drag worked well for him.
"Yeah, uh... good to see you again," Phoenix managed, trying neither to look Max in the eye or stare at his (surprisingly generous) chest. The latter effort was quashed when Max swept him up in a forceful hug, bringing Phoenix face-to-cleavage with him.
★ Justice for One: Ace Attorney; Bratworth + ensemble. PG-13, character study/angst.
He has a murder investigation to immerse himself in, but even back at his office, he can't focus. His mind keeps wandering back to the station, to that woman and her rasping voice and welling eyes. How ridiculous, he scolds himself. There is a man dead and a killer loose, and all he can think about is some battered woman, too weak or insipid to break free from her self-made prison.
A pang of guilt strikes him at that thought, as if something deeper inside him cannot quite abide by his cold rationale. Staving off the pity is more difficult, it seems, when you've looked the piteous in the eye.
★ Kirihara Akaya's Foolproof Five-Step Plan To Steal A Kiss (And Get His Man): Prince of Tennis; Kirihara x Yanagi, Kirihara x Sanada, Yukimura x Sanada. PG, humour/romance.
The plan had been in Akaya's head since November, when he accidentally caught sight of Sanada and Yukimura kissing out on the fire escape during lunch. Really, Sanada was kissing Yukimura, and Akaya couldn't quite wrap his mind around it - Niou-sempai always said Yukimura-buchou topped, without a question.
He decided right then that he needed to find out for himself.
It was December before he could set his plan in motion; the key was mistletoe. If there was mistletoe, Sanada-fukubuchou couldn't blame him for kissing him, now, could he?
An hour before afternoon practice, Akaya faked a stomachache to get out of class, and used that chance to hang a sprig of mistletoe on the fence near where Sanada often stood. Then he really did have a stomachache - he always got that way when he was really nervous - so he hid away in the nurse's office until the final bell.
★ Miyuki Does Shitenhouji (working title): Prince of Tennis, Shitenhouji ensemble. PG, humour/fluff.
There was something about the jacket, she decided. Why else would her face be so hot, especially when she'd been shivering just a minute ago? Regulars' jackets were magical, or something. Except she'd worn her brother's before, and it never did anything. Maybe it was captain's jackets. She wondered briefly if Tezuka's jacket would do this, too.
Tugging it tighter around her, she slumped deeper into it so that only her eyes were peering out. Shiraishi's quiet laugh echoed above her, and she looked up, startled.
"What?" she demanded, thinking she'd missed something entertaining.
But he was smiling down at her, and she hadn't done anything funny, had she? He shook his head and looked back out at the court, folding his arms. "You're cute, Miyu-chan."
★ Turnabout Host (working title): Ouran / Ace Attorney; Edgeworth, Haruhi, host/attorney ensembles. G, gen/humour.
"Legends..." she echoes, as if reflecting on something. "Like who, sir?"
Miles chuckles. "If you win this trial, you'll probably meet them. Come on, now; we haven't much time. A good pros-"
Now it's her turn to laugh. "A good prosecutor, huh? Let's hope I'm a better defense attorney."
"Touché, Fujioka. Old habits die hard."
Funnily, he thinks, the best defense attorneys were often late.
The two of them, however, are early, and the prosecution is as well. Miles can't quite help the tiny thrill - pride and pleasure - at seeing the woman behind the prosecutor's bench.
"Franziska von Karma, Your Honour. For the people." She looks at Miles when she says it, all preen and smirk. Years at the bench have tamed her only slightly.
Fujioka leans over to him. "Is she allowed to carry that in court?"
"Her father carried a cane and a taser. It's best to leave the von Karmas be," Miles confides.
★ Z is for Zombies (working title): Prince of Tennis, Hyoutei ensemble. PG, gen/humour.
Something hit the window. Gakuto screamed, Atobe yelled, Jirou yelped and Shishido hid behind Choutarou. They all stared at the window, where a grotesque, ashen face was pressed, sliding slowly down the glass.
"Oh, Jesus," Choutarou whispered. Shishido felt him shiver and gripped the back of his jacket tighter in response.
All at once, Hiyoshi stalked to the window and yanked the curtains down.
"Can they break the window?" Jirou asked in a tiny voice.
"Probably," Taki answered noncommittally. He sounded distracted.
Gakuto cursed, releasing Yuushi's sleeve. "Fuck, no, they can't, Jirou," he said, glaring forcefully at Taki. Taki didn't seem to notice. "They can't get in here." Gakuto went over to the couch, sitting down beside his friend and wrapping an arm around him. Jirou leaned on him, eyes downcast.
★ Dragons! (working title): Prince of Tennis, Shishido x Atobe. PG-13, romance/action.
Even having grown up amidst dragons - for his father was a dragonkeeper, and his father before him as well - it was still a surreal sensation to glance aside and see a single eye, all but a third your height and too wide for your arms to span.
This eye was gleaming. Amused, Ryou thought, and chuckled.
"The follies of the simple-minded," he read aloud from the eye's expression. A slight narrowing and an upturn at the corner validated him. Laughing softly, he turned back to watch the tussle in the meadow.
Two surly and virile bulls had successfully wrought themselves a way out of their paddocks and come to blows here, near the forest's edge. So wrapped up in their beastly boasting were they that they took no notice of either dragon or man sleeping nearby. So, too, they missed the entrance of an august unicorn, young and haughty. Now they paid dearly for it, as the unicorn was simply waiting for someone to wrong him, so that he might show off his fierceness and valor.
Again and again, the bulls charged, only to spook away at the last possible moment. The unicorn turned each time to meet them, stomping his hoof in frustration when they would back down. It was one thing to lock horns with another bull, butting heads until one party or the other could take no more, but it was something else entirely to charge at a lone horn pointing straight between their eyes. The bulls were appropriately wary.
★ Don't Stand So Close to Me (working title): Prince of Tennis; Atobe x Sakaki. R, romance/angst.
June is nearly half-over when realization - and Keigo - is finally upon him. The rain is in sheets on the windows, the locker room empty, and Keigo has inexplicably found his way into Sakaki's lap, a knee on either edge of the chair.
"You won't look at me?" he asks. His voice is deeper than Sakaki thought, or perhaps huskier and simply resonating off the walls of the office. Sakaki doesn't answer, but examines the paper in his hand again, more closely, until Keigo snatches it away in a puerile fit of impetuousness and tosses it aside. It drifts gaily to the ground. Without anything left to occupy himself, Sakaki turns his attention to Keigo's face, and only his face. That alone is temptation enough.
Leaning closer, Keigo orders, "Look at me." The imperious tone of the demand brings a few years' worth of memories of foot-stomping, bossy little Keigo to the surface. Perhaps Keigo is not so formidable an enemy as Sakaki believed him to have grown into already.
★ The One Where Jirou's a Cockwhore (working title): Prince of Tennis; Tezuka x Jirou. R, smut.
Tezuka could tell the moment his boyfriend woke up. There was no drastic change, no certain lack of sound, no shift in positions to be noticed at all. It was just the subtle way the fingers curled slowly into his shirt, and the way Tezuka felt compelled to drape a gentle arm over the older boy's sleeping form.
Sometimes, he'd drift back to sleep, but sometimes, Tezuka would feel his face press closer, his head turn, and his teeth catch the fabric at the edge of Tezuka's fly. Unless they were alone, Tezuka would shift beneath him, freeing the fabric from his hold. There would be none of that, and Tezuka rarely, if ever, needed to use a more stern reprimand.
★ Lucky Loser: Ouran / Prince of Tennis, Atobe x Tezuka, Hyoutei & hosts ensemble. PG, gen/humour.
Fourteen heads turned his way, and Atobe smirked.
"Keigo-kun!"
The smirk froze in place. He had to be hearing things. The whole afternoon spent talking about the idiot was clearly causing him to become paranoid - he jerked his head to look up at the top of the bleachers, where the call had come from, just in time to be violently embraced.
"Keigo-kun!" Tamaki purred, placing a kiss on each of Atobe's cheeks. "I'm so glad you came back before we left! It would have been a shame to have to leave without having seen you, after all."
"Yes, wouldn't it?" Atobe agreed automatically. He was trying to remove himself from the younger captain's grasp without looking too much like a cat grabbed by a two-year-old. "Let go of me, Suoh."
Jesus, that was a lot. *skips off to prompt_in_a_box.*
Ran across this banner (by the talented negiramenofdoom) today and just had to do something with it, so... new layout it is! tokyocentricity tokyocentricity tokyocentricity ♥
Speaking of Panic!...
Does anyone have A Fever You Can't Sweat Out in .mp3, 192kbps or higher? I just realised that I have half the songs from that album in .wma, and all in varying bit rates. :/ Ew, messy. Thanks, polyurethane! ♥
Roleplaying
I have my application for Jirou at pot_university finished. I'm gonna sit on it for as long as I'll let myself, though. Makes me feel less impulsive, and gives me more time to drag in more hapless victims like intimidate and mahoubunnybell. ;D Anyone else wanna come~?
Works-in-Progress
Meme stolen from rosivan~ ♥
When you see this, post a little weensy excerpt from as many random works-in-progress as you can find lying around. Who knows? Maybe inspiration will burst forth and do something, um, inspiration-y.
Fourteen Eighteen(!) excerpts, under the cut to save your souls. Some are taken from explicit content, but none of the passages are overtly explicit, themselves. Prince of Tennis, Ace Attorney, Ouran. ♥ Feel free to ask me about any of them; I'll show more if something catches your fancy.
★ Celebrity Secrets (tentative title): Prince of Tennis; Atobe. G, gen/character study.
There are millions of things that the world doesn't know about Atobe Keigo.
He makes faces when you have your back to him, instead of elegantly rolling his eyes the way he normally might. If you catch him, he'll make you feel like you're the ridiculous one.
The beauty mark beneath his eye is just one of many. They're scattered on his shoulders and back, with a few wandering down his torso as far as his hips, and a stray one on his rear end that he'll deny for never having seen it, himself.
★ Sucker For Love: Ouran Host Club; Tamaki x Ayame. PG-13, smut/angst.
If he didn't know any better, he'd think she wasn't paying attention. Her head is turned away, her eyes and hands busy somewhere else, but they've been having these rendezvous a little too long for him to think that she's ignoring him. He does wish she'd look his way, though, just once.
"Ayame," he whispers, leaning down as far as his body will allow. Her eyes flick toward him, then away again.
"What is it?"
He feels his shoulders slump just slightly at her flat tone, and he sighs. "Look at me, please?" Taking his hands from her breasts, he stills and reaches forward to remove her glasses. Much like Kyouya's, they get in the way of her eyes and her expressions, and Tamaki hates that.
★ The One Where Jirou's Retarded (working title): Prince of Tennis; Jirou & Chinen. G, gen/friendship.
"I don't have friends," Chinen informed him.
Now, what Chinen meant by that was that he didn't have friends - it wasn't something he did. He did not mean that he had no friends, or that he wanted any. Unfortunately, that was just how Akutagawa Jirou took it.
"You don't have friends?!" the boy cried, recoiling as if Chinen had just explained that he was single-handedly responsible for Hiroshima and Nagasaki. "Why?!"
Chinen leaned forward. "Because everyone's afraid of me." It was a pointed statement, but it was either pointing in the wrong direction, or this kid was dyslexic.
"I'm not afraid of you!" he chirped, his face lighting up again as he leaned in, too, hands on Chinen's knees.
★ Courthouse Graffiti: Ace Attorney; Apollo x Klavier, Phoenix x Miles. PG, smut/humour.
Beside them, a long zipper sounded amidst the ambiguous rustling. "I can't believe you can wear this in a courthouse," Edgeworth chided absently.
The aforementioned sweatshirt fell to the floor, obscuring their feet, and Phoenix quipped, "Well, now I'm not wearing it in a courthouse."
Apollo pulled another face. He couldn't believe he was seriously hearing this! Carefully, he placed his hands over his ears, hoping to block out the suggestive dialogue. His attempts were in vain; the bathroom was quiet, and the walls bounced every tiny sound back tenfold.
More clothing rustled loudly beside them. Down atop the sweatshirt came a white t-shirt. All at once, Apollo was struck with a slightly horrifying thought: Phoenix Wright was shirtless in a courthouse just a few feet away from him. And he was still wearing his hat.
★ Chasing the Dark Horse (tentative title): Prince of Tennis; Shitenhouji ensemble. PG, gen/action.
"You have to give him up, Chitose."
"No, I don't."
He offered no explanation. The attorney dropped something on the desk and walked across the room again, skulking near the door.
"Your sister's a lovely girl," he said, his voice ripe with anticipated triumph.
She was. Senri's eyes darkened for the first time as he gazed down at the picture, lips parting on her name. She stared back at him laughingly, as alive and as sparkling as the day he'd taken the picture that summer.
He didn't ask. He didn't need to.
The attorneys didn't ask again.
"Yes," Senri said, voice soft. "He ordered me to kill those people."
★ Okinawa Beat (tentative title): Prince of Tennis; Higa ensemble. PG, gen/drama.
Some days, I'm half a step, half a lost lead, half a dead end from just up and quitting, emptying out my desk and locker and walking away for good. What we do is good, I know. But the mistakes we make cost lives, in part and in whole, and some days, I can't take one more mistake from myself.
Kite never talks me out of it. Nine times of ten, it's Hirakoba. He'll guilt me, argue with me, beat me down until I know he's right, and he'll walk away and leave me with the decision: leave and throw away all the good I've done and all the good I'll do, or stay and make a few more mistakes in the midst of it all.
When I turn around, slam my locker and throw my stuff on the desk, I only have to say 'let's go,' and it's the only time Kite will follow me unquestioningly.
★ The One Where Diego Does Lana (working title): Ace Attorney; Diego x Lana. PG, romance.
"I'm sorry, sir, this is a crime scene; off-limits to civilians."
She looks like she just stepped out of Babes in Uniform 2012. It's all Diego can do not to whistle. She's a cop, he reminds himself, chuckling at his own inherent weakness. Just a pretty one.
"What kinda crime?" he asks, edging closer to the yellow tape and peering over it, down the long alley behind the building.
She puts a hand in front of him, so he leans forward until she's touching his chest. She's quick to pull her hand back, brow knitting minutely in frustration. How cute, he thinks, and hides his smile behind his coffee as he retreats.
★ According to Plan: Prince of Tennis; Gakuto x Yuushi. R, romance/smut.
This was not, Yuushi thought at the end of a delicious shiver, how he had imagined their first time would be. At all.
He'd envisioned an evening winter romp - this winter, probably - curled up in front of the fire at Yuushi's house while his father was on one of his week-long shifts in the ER. Gakuto got cold easily; he was too damn skinny for winter, but Yuushi didn't mind, because he'd just slide up behind him and wrap him up - warm him from the inside out. They'd snuggle, and Gakuto would complain, but they both knew that was just a matter of course. Yuushi would rain kisses on him, and the heat of the fire would lead one thing into the next until they were all tangled up, faces flushed and gasping each other's names against warm skin.
The flame's heat left him as he felt his bare shoulders pressed against cold metal. No, this was decidedly not how he had imagined it. There were no rose petals, no firelight patterns dancing on their skin, no snowflakes on the windowpane. It was the peak of summer, nearly thirty-eight degrees out; their skin was sticky with sweat and they were in a public bathroom stall, for God's sake.
★ Quitting Your Day Job: Ace Attorney; GS2 ensemble + Edgeworth. PG, gen/humour.
Max Galactica had moved on after the circus failed to thrive under Moe's leadership. He'd been keeping in touch with Maya, it seemed, and he now spent his days as...
"Lady Galactica, at your service!"
Phoenix hazarded a glance and cringed slightly. It was strange, but somehow, Max was pretty. Androgynous and incredibly damn tall, but pretty. Drag worked well for him.
"Yeah, uh... good to see you again," Phoenix managed, trying neither to look Max in the eye or stare at his (surprisingly generous) chest. The latter effort was quashed when Max swept him up in a forceful hug, bringing Phoenix face-to-cleavage with him.
★ Justice for One: Ace Attorney; Bratworth + ensemble. PG-13, character study/angst.
He has a murder investigation to immerse himself in, but even back at his office, he can't focus. His mind keeps wandering back to the station, to that woman and her rasping voice and welling eyes. How ridiculous, he scolds himself. There is a man dead and a killer loose, and all he can think about is some battered woman, too weak or insipid to break free from her self-made prison.
A pang of guilt strikes him at that thought, as if something deeper inside him cannot quite abide by his cold rationale. Staving off the pity is more difficult, it seems, when you've looked the piteous in the eye.
★ Kirihara Akaya's Foolproof Five-Step Plan To Steal A Kiss (And Get His Man): Prince of Tennis; Kirihara x Yanagi, Kirihara x Sanada, Yukimura x Sanada. PG, humour/romance.
The plan had been in Akaya's head since November, when he accidentally caught sight of Sanada and Yukimura kissing out on the fire escape during lunch. Really, Sanada was kissing Yukimura, and Akaya couldn't quite wrap his mind around it - Niou-sempai always said Yukimura-buchou topped, without a question.
He decided right then that he needed to find out for himself.
It was December before he could set his plan in motion; the key was mistletoe. If there was mistletoe, Sanada-fukubuchou couldn't blame him for kissing him, now, could he?
An hour before afternoon practice, Akaya faked a stomachache to get out of class, and used that chance to hang a sprig of mistletoe on the fence near where Sanada often stood. Then he really did have a stomachache - he always got that way when he was really nervous - so he hid away in the nurse's office until the final bell.
★ Miyuki Does Shitenhouji (working title): Prince of Tennis, Shitenhouji ensemble. PG, humour/fluff.
There was something about the jacket, she decided. Why else would her face be so hot, especially when she'd been shivering just a minute ago? Regulars' jackets were magical, or something. Except she'd worn her brother's before, and it never did anything. Maybe it was captain's jackets. She wondered briefly if Tezuka's jacket would do this, too.
Tugging it tighter around her, she slumped deeper into it so that only her eyes were peering out. Shiraishi's quiet laugh echoed above her, and she looked up, startled.
"What?" she demanded, thinking she'd missed something entertaining.
But he was smiling down at her, and she hadn't done anything funny, had she? He shook his head and looked back out at the court, folding his arms. "You're cute, Miyu-chan."
★ Turnabout Host (working title): Ouran / Ace Attorney; Edgeworth, Haruhi, host/attorney ensembles. G, gen/humour.
"Legends..." she echoes, as if reflecting on something. "Like who, sir?"
Miles chuckles. "If you win this trial, you'll probably meet them. Come on, now; we haven't much time. A good pros-"
Now it's her turn to laugh. "A good prosecutor, huh? Let's hope I'm a better defense attorney."
"Touché, Fujioka. Old habits die hard."
Funnily, he thinks, the best defense attorneys were often late.
The two of them, however, are early, and the prosecution is as well. Miles can't quite help the tiny thrill - pride and pleasure - at seeing the woman behind the prosecutor's bench.
"Franziska von Karma, Your Honour. For the people." She looks at Miles when she says it, all preen and smirk. Years at the bench have tamed her only slightly.
Fujioka leans over to him. "Is she allowed to carry that in court?"
"Her father carried a cane and a taser. It's best to leave the von Karmas be," Miles confides.
★ Z is for Zombies (working title): Prince of Tennis, Hyoutei ensemble. PG, gen/humour.
Something hit the window. Gakuto screamed, Atobe yelled, Jirou yelped and Shishido hid behind Choutarou. They all stared at the window, where a grotesque, ashen face was pressed, sliding slowly down the glass.
"Oh, Jesus," Choutarou whispered. Shishido felt him shiver and gripped the back of his jacket tighter in response.
All at once, Hiyoshi stalked to the window and yanked the curtains down.
"Can they break the window?" Jirou asked in a tiny voice.
"Probably," Taki answered noncommittally. He sounded distracted.
Gakuto cursed, releasing Yuushi's sleeve. "Fuck, no, they can't, Jirou," he said, glaring forcefully at Taki. Taki didn't seem to notice. "They can't get in here." Gakuto went over to the couch, sitting down beside his friend and wrapping an arm around him. Jirou leaned on him, eyes downcast.
★ Dragons! (working title): Prince of Tennis, Shishido x Atobe. PG-13, romance/action.
Even having grown up amidst dragons - for his father was a dragonkeeper, and his father before him as well - it was still a surreal sensation to glance aside and see a single eye, all but a third your height and too wide for your arms to span.
This eye was gleaming. Amused, Ryou thought, and chuckled.
"The follies of the simple-minded," he read aloud from the eye's expression. A slight narrowing and an upturn at the corner validated him. Laughing softly, he turned back to watch the tussle in the meadow.
Two surly and virile bulls had successfully wrought themselves a way out of their paddocks and come to blows here, near the forest's edge. So wrapped up in their beastly boasting were they that they took no notice of either dragon or man sleeping nearby. So, too, they missed the entrance of an august unicorn, young and haughty. Now they paid dearly for it, as the unicorn was simply waiting for someone to wrong him, so that he might show off his fierceness and valor.
Again and again, the bulls charged, only to spook away at the last possible moment. The unicorn turned each time to meet them, stomping his hoof in frustration when they would back down. It was one thing to lock horns with another bull, butting heads until one party or the other could take no more, but it was something else entirely to charge at a lone horn pointing straight between their eyes. The bulls were appropriately wary.
★ Don't Stand So Close to Me (working title): Prince of Tennis; Atobe x Sakaki. R, romance/angst.
June is nearly half-over when realization - and Keigo - is finally upon him. The rain is in sheets on the windows, the locker room empty, and Keigo has inexplicably found his way into Sakaki's lap, a knee on either edge of the chair.
"You won't look at me?" he asks. His voice is deeper than Sakaki thought, or perhaps huskier and simply resonating off the walls of the office. Sakaki doesn't answer, but examines the paper in his hand again, more closely, until Keigo snatches it away in a puerile fit of impetuousness and tosses it aside. It drifts gaily to the ground. Without anything left to occupy himself, Sakaki turns his attention to Keigo's face, and only his face. That alone is temptation enough.
Leaning closer, Keigo orders, "Look at me." The imperious tone of the demand brings a few years' worth of memories of foot-stomping, bossy little Keigo to the surface. Perhaps Keigo is not so formidable an enemy as Sakaki believed him to have grown into already.
★ The One Where Jirou's a Cockwhore (working title): Prince of Tennis; Tezuka x Jirou. R, smut.
Tezuka could tell the moment his boyfriend woke up. There was no drastic change, no certain lack of sound, no shift in positions to be noticed at all. It was just the subtle way the fingers curled slowly into his shirt, and the way Tezuka felt compelled to drape a gentle arm over the older boy's sleeping form.
Sometimes, he'd drift back to sleep, but sometimes, Tezuka would feel his face press closer, his head turn, and his teeth catch the fabric at the edge of Tezuka's fly. Unless they were alone, Tezuka would shift beneath him, freeing the fabric from his hold. There would be none of that, and Tezuka rarely, if ever, needed to use a more stern reprimand.
★ Lucky Loser: Ouran / Prince of Tennis, Atobe x Tezuka, Hyoutei & hosts ensemble. PG, gen/humour.
Fourteen heads turned his way, and Atobe smirked.
"Keigo-kun!"
The smirk froze in place. He had to be hearing things. The whole afternoon spent talking about the idiot was clearly causing him to become paranoid - he jerked his head to look up at the top of the bleachers, where the call had come from, just in time to be violently embraced.
"Keigo-kun!" Tamaki purred, placing a kiss on each of Atobe's cheeks. "I'm so glad you came back before we left! It would have been a shame to have to leave without having seen you, after all."
"Yes, wouldn't it?" Atobe agreed automatically. He was trying to remove himself from the younger captain's grasp without looking too much like a cat grabbed by a two-year-old. "Let go of me, Suoh."
Jesus, that was a lot. *skips off to prompt_in_a_box.*