Shamelessly ganked from
switchknife, here's a really cool meme. Let's see if anyone notices.
How to play: I take the opening sentences from some of my own fanfics, C&P them below, and then you pick your favorite(s) and turn them into drabbles or baring that, ficlets, and post them in the comments.
Game?
1) Kenren was good at doing a good many things.
2) Even he had had doubts the first time, and he was the one who'd suggested that they try it in the first place.
3) Three days had passed since the end of Summer term.
4) His first memory was of pain.
5) Idiots.
6) "Alrigh', so explain to me again how this works."
7) Sometimes, on the rare occasions when he slows down long enough to have time to sit and think about it, he's overwhelmed by how lucky he was.
8) She is so strung out she can barely put one foot in front of the other, but that doesn't matter to him.
9) There's a book of fairy tales on the floor next to where she keeps his basket.
10) However inopportune its timing, the knock does come at a decent hour, and I can hardly choose to ignore it.
11) There used to be apple mint growing outside the door to my grandmother's house.
12) Of course, I had no intention of ever reading his book.
13) It was 2:30 in the morning, and he had asked me for vodka.
14) Consciousness returns slowly, the narcotic fog of the potion still wreaking havoc upon my senses.
これで以上です。
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How to play: I take the opening sentences from some of my own fanfics, C&P them below, and then you pick your favorite(s) and turn them into drabbles or baring that, ficlets, and post them in the comments.
Game?
1) Kenren was good at doing a good many things.
2) Even he had had doubts the first time, and he was the one who'd suggested that they try it in the first place.
3) Three days had passed since the end of Summer term.
4) His first memory was of pain.
5) Idiots.
6) "Alrigh', so explain to me again how this works."
7) Sometimes, on the rare occasions when he slows down long enough to have time to sit and think about it, he's overwhelmed by how lucky he was.
8) She is so strung out she can barely put one foot in front of the other, but that doesn't matter to him.
9) There's a book of fairy tales on the floor next to where she keeps his basket.
10) However inopportune its timing, the knock does come at a decent hour, and I can hardly choose to ignore it.
11) There used to be apple mint growing outside the door to my grandmother's house.
12) Of course, I had no intention of ever reading his book.
13) It was 2:30 in the morning, and he had asked me for vodka.
14) Consciousness returns slowly, the narcotic fog of the potion still wreaking havoc upon my senses.
これで以上です。
From:
No. 9
"Once upon a time," they all start. "And they lived happily ever after," they all end. "These are not necessarily a guide for living, mind you," Momma tells him. "For I was the eldest of three, you know, yet I defeated a horrible wizard."
He's only the eldest of one. Momma is right because they all seem to be living happily ever after in spite of that.
"It's simply a matter of managing the complications," Momma says. She lifts him by the scruff of his neck, and he wiggles a bit on principle. "Behave," she tsks. Then she folds him under arm and strokes his belly, and tickles his nose with his tail.
He does love to have his belly rubbed, but a fascinating bit of string is now dangling just before his eyes. He must attend to it promptly.
"Stop teasing your son!" Momma says, annoyed.
"But he likes it," Poppa says. "Look." The string bounces a bit more, and he bats at it. He can never seem to catch it though.
"Be that as it may," Momma huffs, "it's not, oh, proper. I swear, you're more of a child than he is."
"He's not a child at all," Poppa says.
"And I've asked you before to take it off him. He's begun to explore. Why, I found him on my oddments shelf just yesterday. It's not safe, I tell you."
"I have endeavoured, successfully I might add, to restore him," Poppa says stiffly. "But he doesn't appear to be interested in anyone else's opinion on the matter and pops right back." And Poppa adds, "In this respect, he takes after his mother."
"Oh?" Momma asks sweetly. "Whatever do you mean?"
My hip itches a little, so I lick it.
"Look you, he washes himself!" Poppa says very quickly. "Now there's a time saver, right?" Poppa then says, "I can't say that I blame him myself. Who'd want to be a smelly, squalling, crawling brat? And bald! I ask you."
"Bald," Momma repeats in a thoughtful way. "That would merit the Royal Wizard's attention?"
"Er. Of course, I only meant it only in a manner of speaking." Poppa seems very pale. But it might only be because his hair is dark green. Then Poppa dangles the string again.
But, suddenly, he is terribly tired and has to yawn. "Oh, Howl, do stop," Momma sighs. "It's time for his nap."
"Sophie, he does little else," Poppa complains.
"Well, that only stands to reason, doesn't it?" Momma points out.
And Momma tucks Morgan back into his basket.
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Re: I'll play! *grabs no. 1*
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Re: I'll play! *grabs no. 1*
Crack. Purest crack.
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Re: I'll play! *grabs no. 1*
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The prospect of losing his place didn't, all in all, upset him greatly. However, if he'd learned one thing about Being Above, it was that boredom was inescapable. At least at the top you got to pad your cell a bit.
There was also the vague thought in his mind, If not me, then who?
Someone less qualified, no doubt. He'd worked hard, or at the very least, kept his ears and eyes open to earn his skills. He was proud of being good at certain things.
Until a few months ago, he would've counted seduction among them.
Until a few weeks ago, he would've scoffed at the idea that it would even be a challenge. Dirty clothes, tousled hair, breath perpetually reeking of cigarettes. From what he had seen and heard, the man had virtually no idea of how to tread carefully at all. Taking in types with no self-preservation; he wasn't a charity case. He was just bored.
Alright, so he was no good at lying to himself either. He wasn't bored. The Marshal wasn't boring. And it had occurred to him, somewhere along the way, that if the man had made it to this position in the Celestial military (where life was like a giant game of chess played on two levels with the pieces continually evolving and the rules changing on a whim), then likely he, too, had at least a few things he was good at.
Staying alive would have to be one of them.
Damned if he could account for it, though. Brilliant analytical mind, he'd warrant. No sense of organization whatsoever. The only thing orderly about him were his thought processes, and even those were frequently mixed up with misquoted lines of poetry on a good day. A man of relatively few words when it counted, but who could babble endlessly. He lived by himself, but seemed to hear everything.
Tenpou was a set of paradoxes, that was certain.
He didn't belong in the military, that was certain as well. For all his scientific exterior, Kenren knew better than to assume a lack of passion. Anyone who'd really seen the man knew that he was a ticking time bomb.
Someone had said once that pure scientists were the most religious people on earth.
They weren't exactly on Earth, but he guessed that the same basic principle applied.
Tenpou Gensui was saving his passion, waiting to go off.
But for what? Not him, it seemed.
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He could recall a few occasions where not even being the most tactically brilliant military leader in all of Celestial history had nearly not been enough to keep him from being castrated on the spot. With profuse apologies to the one doing the castrating.
In fact...now that he really thought about it, he wasn't sure he was the one who'd been doing the seducing, half the time. If not more.
It was a bit startling, as revelations went, and a bit more disappointing. It didn't leave much hope for the current situation.
The current situation ran thus: He cleaned up after the Marshal, kept his appointments, gave him counsel regardless of whether it was sought, foisted off the fat bureaucrats whom he knew the Marshal would give short shrift, and fended off those who would not be denied until such as time as he deemed to be more opportune.
He'd never seen a man say the kinds of things that Tenpou said when sober.
When questioned about it, Tenpou's comment was, "I believe in the direct approach."
The man was opaque. Three months plumbing the depths, and he hadn't so much as felt the water begin to thicken. He would, he thought, need a plan.
He was better at plans that involved armies.
"Kenren, are you done in here yet?" The voice floated into the den, mild as always and somehow, even from this distance, redolent of smoke. It was some fancy trick of immortality that his teeth managed to stay white.
"Very soon," he called back. "Marshal, if you please, a quick question?"
"You have all my attention." Tenpou drifted after his voice into the doorway.
He doubted that. But perhaps it wouldn't hurt him. Element of surprise, as they said.
"Would you mind if I seduced you?"
"Only if we get to take turns," again in that shockingly mild drawl.
He tried not to drop the book he was shelving. Element of surprise. Put the odds in his favor, every time.
Surprise, and the direct approach.
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Blood twitched again when the kids finally gave up staring only to scamper up to him with big, soulful eyes.
"You're real?"
"Yes." He thought he was getting very good at this.
"You're a demon?"
He tried for the patient, understanding grin that Ishuca approved of.
"Yes."
"You eat little children for breakfast?" they asked. And ran shrieking with either glee or fear. He settled for the former - far be it for Ishuca's innumerable instructions to go to waste.
Idiots.
They still made him uneasy, and not a little wary. Ironic, he thought, that the priests no longer made him as uncomfortable as the common people did. But they knew and the people didn't. They fought and the people didn't.
Some things change, but plenty don't. Blood shifted against the wall again, impatient to be going. He didn't need the curious, nervous glances. What he did need was still inside saying hello and making happy with an infinite number of monks.
Ten years and the people were already beginning to forget. Not that he cared. But Ishuca insisted on the visits, and sometimes he wondered, not without some misgivings, if it wasn't enough that it was only him and it was only their small house. Some things change, after all.
"Hey." A hand tucked itself into his arm, and it was easier to mean the grin on his face.
"Done?"
"Yes - I'm sorry you had to wait outside."
Blood rolled his eyes. Priests were still priests, and not worth the nauseating aura of wards that the temple was immersed in.
He frowned a little when Ishuca yawned. "Tired?"
"Mmm, let's go home." Fingers withdrew from his sleeve to tangle with his own, and Blood let himself be pulled away from the temple, and he didn't mind so much when more idiots paused to stare at them.
Ishuca pressed against his arm, a familiar, reassuring weight. And Blood thought that yeah, some things change, but some don't, and he would have score of years more to savour it.
---
I make all kinds of excuses for this - am in a tearing hurry to go off, and it's more sap than I like. I'm resigned to the fact that the fluff comes so easily. Purty couple needs a purty end. o__O
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And YAY Koori fic! Thank you:)
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I can see this meme game is going to generate plenty for me to read, 95% of which I won't understand as I am so behind in so many fandoms (Saiyuki, PoT etc...). It was a delight to see a familiar one! Mixture of humor, Blood-crankiness, and sap with lightest touch of angst was pure Sugiura. Thanks!!
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Have you tried looking on IRC? I know they're out there, though I can't vouch for the quality. But go ahead and get them in Japanese. I'll be more than willing to help you out wherever you get stuck;)
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Oh maaan.
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as well as my future wife.From:
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*blink blink* =DD
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What I was trying to say is that it's the best manga ever written and the best manga I have ever read, only I sorta said them at once. O00psieslol!!!!BBQ!
::HEADDESK::
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...I love Shiho-sensei's works, can you tell? ^^
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Yes. ^^
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(Though for me it was more like an interdimensional vortex, no wait, that would be Silver Diamond...)
You will be assimilated, resistance is futile. But chances are, you won't mind. Even after you've depleted your bank account buying 25 volumes of manga and devoted all your spare time for the next several years to learning Japanese (unless you know it already, in which case WHAT is your excuse for not having read this adorable series by now??).
^-^
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*pushes Tris into tax queue*
You just stand here and save my place while I check out a bookstore, 'kay? Oh, and could you hold this paperwork while you're at it? Oh yes, I'll be riiiight back. . .
*runs away!* ^_^
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From:
guilty...
From:
No. 7
*** spoilers, Castle in the Air ***
Sometimes, on the rare occasions when he slows down long enough to have time to sit and think about it, he's overwhelmed by how lucky he was. For Dalzel's two ravishing, rotund rewards have never failed to find him pleasant new diversions.
In just this fashion, he now looks up from his book to see them both standing before him, shimmering seductively in their clinging clouds of pink and yellow gauze, both wringing their plumb hands in a most delightful distress.
As he sets his reading aside, he stretches and yawns, flexing his golden wings, unfolding his claws, revealing to them his not inconsiderable fangs.
He preens as both sigh in appreciation.
But a bridegroom's duty calls. "Tell me, o stolen treasures of Zanzib," he says sternly, "what it is that troubles your thoughts?"
"O most fearsome of fiends, Dalzel," wails his bride in pink, "most vile amongst villains."
"O most dreadful of djinns, Dalzel," shrieks his bride in yellow, "most debauched amongst devils."
"O unparalleled purloined pulchritude, reveal to me the source of this woe that besets you," he says, fascinated eyes fixed upon the mobile mounds of flesh so intriguingly displayed with their every wild gesture.
"An evil affliction is upon us," sobs his bride in pink, "a clamour and a clashing!"
"For indeed, the fluctuations of the flow do imperil our purity!" weeps his bride in yellow.
"Er. You don't mean me, do you?" he inquires.
"The drains, o terror in the night," says the pink, "they've stopped."
"The pipes, o perfidious one," says the yellow, "they're knocking rather."
He considers this problem, then nods. "You were right to come to me, my twin full moons of manorial maintenance."
As he tucks his flowing, golden locks into a hasty ponytail, he notes with satisfaction that both his well-fed gazelles are agape. As he hooks up his tool belt in his talons and hefts it over his shoulder, taking care to avoid his glittering wings, he is pleased to hear both gasp.
"Oh my. Pale and thin yet rippling," sighs the pink, "so manly."
"Oh, and the tools," agrees the yellow, "handymen are dead sexy."
Dalzel basks in the glow of their admiration for a few moments, then prods both with his toilet plunger. As his pastel prizes thunder down the marble corridors in a shrill, giggling flurry of veils, he remembers to tug down his trousers a little farther on the back of his hips.
Truly, he thinks, observing the jiggling overabundance before him, no djinn's deserted isle of exile could be as blessed as his own.
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Re: No. 7
but bwahahahaha the lovely titles you came up with. *snicker* the almighty djinn fixing toilet pipes!
this was hilarious =D
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Dalzel basks in the glow of their admiration for a few moments, then prods both with his toilet plunger. As his pastel prizes thunder down the marble corridors in a shrill, giggling flurry of veils, he remembers to tug down his trousers a little farther on the back of his hips.
::reads::
::blinks::
::dies laughing::
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Percy cannot stop the sneer from forming as he thinks of his family.
They just don't see.
He calms himself; his anger is not required at this ceremony.
One day they'll appreciate all the sacrifices I've made. Not for them, mind you. But they'll appreciate them all the same.
Percy stands tall, repeating each word with strong conviction. He believes in these vows with all of his being.
With the new painful mark on his left wrist and the white mask in his right hand, he feels complete for the first time.
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