Drabbles Master Post Pt1
Dec. 28th, 2008 03:29 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sinnatiousFor the sake of tidiness, I'm gathering up all of the filled drabble requests from the request post and reposting them here, mostly because it bothers me having them buried in threads and broken up to circumvent the comment character limit. It also gives me an opportunity to fix typos and mistakes.
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
aventria
Prompt: Anything TezRyo in the Reborn Universe.
Tezuka presses his hands together on his lap, trying to still the shaking. He must appear strong for them. He’s pillar of the family – the boss that they rely on. His grandfather has lectured him on it time and time again.
After all these years, he still can’t bring himself to accept it. It’s so wrong. He’s always sending them out to fight in his stead. Into that dangerous world filled with rings and boxes.
Tezuka longs for simpler times, when they just played tennis. Before Vongola and Millefiore brought their feud to Japan’s shores. Before he suddenly found himself in charge of a crumbling yakuza group and dragging his closest friends into war.
He should never have made the alliance. He regrets it every day. He should have stuck to business dealings and remained neutral. But he’d been impressed by the young Vongola’s honesty and kind-hearted nature. It made him want to believe in a gentler mafia, in a brighter future.
Now it’s taking all of their resources just to survive.
The phone lights up. He answers it before it can even ring. “Inui?”
There’s the dull roar of gunfire and explosions in the background, but they sound far away. “Tezuka. We got the information, but we were intercepted – we couldn’t save the contact-”
They have the information. He regrets the loss of their informant, but at least he’d managed to deliver the data to Inui. “Any injuries?” Tezuka interrupts.
“Momoshiro sustained some damage, but he’s walking. Everyone else is accounted for.” He pauses. “Except for… you know.”
“Still no word?”
“No, Tezuka. I’m sorry.”
Tezuka closes his eyes. He didn’t expect there to be any. There never is. He comes and goes as he pleases. “Very well. Return to base immediately. We’ll decide what to do from there.” The phone is swiftly replaced on its cradle – it dangerous to keep the line open for too long.
He regrets the alliance, but knows they couldn’t really have avoided this war. It was Millefiore who killed his grandfather, after all.
There are several thumps in the hall. Tezuka pauses – he’s just spoken with Inui, and he’s over thirty kilometres away still. Fuji has gone out of town to find somewhere safe to experiment with his new Mist box, and everyone else is backing up Inui.
He touches his index finger briefly, just to confirm the presence of the ring. It’s probably just one of the staff, but there’s no sense in being careless.
The door swings open, but caution is immediately forgotten when Tezuka spies the green-haired man leaning against the frame. His suit is torn and ragged, he looks about ready to keel over, but he’s still clutching a case to his chest as though its presence alone is enough to keep him standing.
“Ryoma!” The word slips from his mouth unconsciously, and he’s frozen in place. It’s been weeks since he’s seen his face. He nearly bites through his tongue at the sight of the crimson stains on the white shirt that have started seeping through to the jacket. “You’re injured. Where have you-”
Ryoma ignores him and lurches into the room. He dumps the blood-spattered case on the mahogany desk and flips open the lip.
Tezuka briefly forgets his questions at the sight of what’s inside.
Four B-class rings – an amazing haul in its own right, but his attention is drawn inexorably to the box in the centre. He can sense what it is without even touching it.
“Brought back a present for you,” Ryoma rasps, a wobbly smirk on his lips.
“A sky-attribute box…” Tezuka has an A-class Sky ring – a rarity in itself – but Sky boxes are almost impossible to find. “This is what you disappeared for?” He remembers himself, and turns stern. “You should have told someone where you were going, if you needed backup-”
“I don’t need backup,” Ryoma interrupts. He slumps down into a seat – it’s Tezuka’s, but he doesn’t show any sign of caring – and waves a hand airily. “The rings are Sun and Lightning. Kawamura-senpai and Eiji-senpai owe me burgers.”
“What happened?” Tezuka asks. He doesn’t expect an answer. He doesn’t get one. “You need a doctor.”
“Che, I patched myself up.”
It’s a terrible job. Tezuka keeps a roll of bandages in his desk for this very purpose. “Shirt off.”
Ryoma flutters his eyelashes at him. “Buchou, are you sure that’s really appropriate with your subordinates?”
Tezuka twitches. Fuji’s been a bad influence on Ryoma. He never should have let them train together. “Echizen.”
He rolls his eyes and shrugs out of his jacket, barely hiding a wince as he does so. “Back to last names again, huh?” he mumbles. He throws his shirt to the side.
The bandages are loose and sodden. Tezuka’s mouth is set in a firm line as he unwinds them and checks the injury. A clean cut, probably from a sword. It doesn’t look that deep, and it’s already been disinfected.
Ryoma fiddles with the A-class Cloud ring on his finger as Tezuka silently replaces the bloodied bandages. The young yakuza boss feels anxious looking at it. He’s read the reports about Vongola’s Cloud guardian searching for rings and boxes. There aren’t many with the Cloud attribute, and fewer still that will take on Hibari Kyouya, but Ryoma never backs down from a fight. Tezuka quietly dreads the day when Vongola’s strongest guardian hears about their stash.
“You shouldn’t take so many risks. You don’t owe me anything. You don’t even need to be a part of this.”
Ryoma’s eyes grow dark. “Millefiore killed my father too, you know.”
Tezuka doesn’t have a response for that. He considers Echizen Nanjiroh’s death his fault too, but Ryoma rebuffs his apologies every time.
“You shouldn’t be so careless. You’re not invincible,” he says quietly.
“Neither are you, Buchou.”
Tezuka clenches his jaw. It takes all of his strength to keep his expression impassive as he clips the bandage firmly into place. They’ve had this argument before, and the result never changes. “You should still visit a doctor later.”
A careless shrug. The light catches the bare shoulder, revealing another faded scar from another mission. Tezuka’s fingers hover over it briefly, not quite touching the skin.
They stand there for a long moment, and the silence grows heavy with the unspoken words.
Tezuka awkwardly withdraws his hand. “Thank you. For the box and rings,” he says, because he doesn’t know what else to say.
Ryoma just smirks, then stifles a yawn. “It was no big deal.” He rubs at his neck. “I’m going to sleep. No risk of you getting murdered now you’ve got a box, right?”
“I’ll be fine. Headquarters is still secure.”
Ryoma nods sleepily and shuffles from the room. Tezuka sits down heavily, eyes transfixed on the pile of bloody bandages on the desk.
He wants to keep Ryoma safe, but he doesn’t know how. He’ll always send him out again. He doesn’t have a choice. Ryoma’s the Cloud – he’ll just go anyway.
argentum_luna
Prompt: Inui/Ryoma, Milk
Ryoma makes a good effort at not squirming under Inui's attention. He fails.
"How many glasses have you drunk today?"
He's briefly wracked by guilt. "...Two. Like always, senpai."
"100% probability that you are lying. The length of the pause gave you away," Inui informs him, then marks something down in his notebook. "I expected this after the last data review."
"I had one glass this morning," Ryoma concedes with a scowl.
"As I predicted. This is fine. I'm merely going to have to intervene." With a thin smile Inui produces a glass, three-quarters full of off-white liquid. Somehow the data gatherer is able to make even ordinary milk look disgusting. "I brought a second glass of milk especially for you."
Ryoma is annoyed at the realisation that he must have already prepared it in expectation. "I'll have a second glass at home tonight," he protests, backing away.
"You've only grown two centimetres over the past six months. I'm not convinced. You'll drink it here... where I can see you." Inui holds out the glass, and the captain looks like he's in the mood to assign laps, so Ryoma has no choice but to accept it.
He takes a deep breath, and brings the cup to his lips. The viscosity isn't quite what he expected, and he winds up over-tipping it, getting a mouthful of the stuff before he's ready. It dribbles out the edges of the glass, running down his chin and onto his neck in a thin trail.
It's warm and thick and salty. Ryoma nearly gags, but squeezes his eyes shut and determinedly swallows. He knew it. Inui's done something to it. No way he'd ever give out an ordinary beverage.
He perseveres, swallowing again. The last of it slides down his throat, he lets out a gasp, and then wipes at his face with his collar to clean the rest off. It feels gross and sticky in the afternoon sun.
The freshman frowns as he hands the empty glass back to the senior. "There's something wrong with that milk, senpai." It's nowhere near as bad as some of the data gatherer's other concoctions, but milk should never ever taste like that.
Ryoma doesn't notice the horrified expressions on the faces of the other Regulars. All he knows is that there's something a bit creepy about Inui's smile.
pharrezychica
Prompt: Tokyo Babylon or X1999, something with Subaru
A familiar face, walking side-by-side with a dog in an alley. The air feels suddenly thick, and the cloying scent of cherry blossoms fills his nostrils.
No. He doesn't want to. He's lost so many people already-
But the tree demands it. And the tree is what he left behind. It's fate.
"Eh? What is it Inuki?" The young woman turns, and her face lights up with recognition. "Is that... Subaru, isn't it? You're Subaru, right?!"
He doesn't reply - just stares, taking note of all the changes. Her hair is slightly longer, cupping her chin instead of brushing her ears, and she's grown taller. Matured. But there's still a sparkle of laughter in her eyes that not even the prospect of the end of the world managed to extinguish.
"It's been so long! Isn't this nostalgic? Look, Inuki's all grown up now!" It's true - the spirit puppy has returned to his former majesty. "What about you?! I haven't seen you in... what, it must be years!"
"You're looking well, Yuzuriha," he says softly.
She smiles brilliantly at him, and for one moment all he can see is Hokuto. But all he can smell is cherry blossoms. "Thanks, Subaru! And you're still looking handsome too." She giggles. "But don't be getting any ideas - I'm spoken for."
"...Kusanagi?"
"Nn. I guess it was fate after all. A good kind of fate, though." She clasps her hands behind her back and looks up at the skyscrapers surrounding them. "Isn't it amazing now? It's like it never happened." There's a touch of reverence in her voice, tinged with just a little bit of sadness.
Subaru makes a small sound of agreement in his throat. He wishes the bridge was never fixed. Some things you just can't fix after they're broken.
"The Tower won't be touched, though. It might disrupt the barrier. There are people in the Metropolitan who know about it - they'll make sure it stays. They'd have to get through him, anyway."
He nods, but doesn't comment. He's seen Fuuma a couple of times since then - usually when he drops near the Tower to pay his own respects. He wants to comment, though. To buy just a little more time.
"It's a little depressing to think about I guess. Sorry for bringing it up - I haven't seen you for so long and here I am going on about things you'd probably rather forget about, right? It's just that there aren't many people I can talk about it with, you know?"
The smell of cherry blossoms grows overpowering. He can feel his hands trembling.
"Eh? Subaru, are you okay?" Yuzuriha tilts her head and places a single finger on her lips.
Why did she have to wander the streets of Tokyo alone this night?
Inuki growls at him.
"You're not sick, are you? Your face is kinda weird. Oh, but I don't mean it in a rude way! It's just-"
Yuzuriha. Sweet, young, Yuzuriha - the one that deserved the future the most out of all of them. Even despite everything that happened, despite the lost lives and destruction, she's somehow remained pure-hearted. Even Fuuma couldn't touch her.
Purity. Innocence. Spiritual strength. The tree's favourite sort of prey.
It's not fair.
Inuki barks, but Subaru's hand is already covered in blood.
jade_peace
Prompt: Greek/Roman Gods and/or Epics, TezRyo.
"Did you hear?" Eiji asked keenly, even as the party raged behind them. Goblets of wine were passed from hand to hand as singing and the twang of harpsichords filled the air. "Jiroh put Tezuka to sleep for twelve whole days."
Momoshiro laughed. "Why would he do that?! Tezuka'll be furious! He's really an idiot!"
"Fuji asked him," Eiji said matter-of-factly, and the gods and goddesses nearby leaned in closer, eager for gossip. It was common knowledge to everyone but Tezuka that Fuji was always scheming in the background, disposing of Tezuka's many admirers. "He wanted to cause trouble for Mizuki again without Tezuka finding out about it."
Oishi shook his head. "That explains all the thunder I heard earlier."
Eiji giggled. "Tezuka was going to make him run one thousand laps around the surface of the world."
"Was?" Sengoku was interested now. "How did he get out of it? Not even I am that lucky!"
"Jiroh ran for it. He hid behind Ryoma."
At those words, a hush fell over the group. "Ryoma," Oishi breathed. "What happened?"
"Tezuka turned away, and Jiroh got away with it," Eiji reported smugly.
"Super lucky!" Sengoku exclaimed. "I didn't think Tezuka would back down for anyone when he's mad!"
It was true - Tezuka was monstrously strong, and he only needed to fear his equals: Atobe, God of the Seas and Yukimura, God of the Underworld. They all cast a glance towards the highest point of the party. Tezuka sat on his throne, nursing a goblet in silence. For once Fuji was nowhere to be seen, showing some wisdom in making himself scarce at such a time.
Inui blandly remarked, "It is strange. Though the magnitude of Ryoma's strength remains unconfirmed, Tezuka has never hesitated to risk anyone's wrath before. This is the first evidence I have that he isn't fearless." He paused. "If that is what stayed his hand."
"Yukimura would take Ryoma on," Kirihara said viciously, stabbing a slab of meat with his blade and lifting it to his mouth.
"Tartarus is below even Hades," Inui pointed out in his infinite reason and wisdom. "I'm sure if he desired, he would have done so by now."
“A mortal said once that if you dropped an anvil from Olympus, it would take nine days to fall to Tartarus,” Sengoku quipped.
"Ryoma's not anything to be afraid of." Momoshiro spoke with an authority borne half from familiarity and half from a reckless desire to criticise everything. "He's gloomy and anti-social and really really short."
"Nyaa, Momo's sort of right. I always send him an invitation but he never comes to any of my parties," Eiji reported mournfully.
Kirihara spat out a mouthful of wine. "You invited him? Are you an idiot?!"
A heavy silence abruptly descended upon the party. The stars were suddenly glistening in a dark sky. Night had fallen in the middle of the day.
"It's Ryoma," Oishi croaked. Kirihara, despite his earlier bravado, was suddenly looking nervous.
Into the midst of the silent party an ethereal figure glided. Every eye was drawn to him - clad in midnight green and black robes that glittered with stars, skin the colour of moonlight and his head adorned with dark green hair that made lesser gods whisper of Chaos behind their hands.
"Ochibi! You came!" Eiji, ever focused on the party, showed absolutely none of the fear of the other guests. "We were just talking about how I'm always, always inviting you! Why did you come this time?"
An amused smirk played over God of Night's lips. He glanced towards the raised dais. "I saw something interesting." His voice was low and velvety. A number of goddesses nearby were almost beside themselves with excitement.
Tezuka had stood at Ryoma’s entrance, though didn’t move from his position on the dais. Ryoma continued up the steps towards him, the gods and goddesses parting before him like a wave.
It was only when he was standing in front of the ruler of Olympus that his short stature became apparent - he really was quite small, but his presence covered the entire party. Tezuka’s pure white robes stood out in stark contrast to Ryoma’s midnight-coloured clothes. Standing there face to face, they were like night and day. The God ruling over the sky, and the God ruling the darkness beneath even the Underworld.
When Tezuka spoke, his voice was like molten metal, a quiet thunder infused with power. “Ryoma.”
It was all he managed to say before Ryoma raised a pair of arms and gently guided the ruler of Olympus into a passionate kiss.
A ripple ran through the crowd at the audacity of such a gesture, but to their surprise Tezuka did not pull away, nor did he seem angry. When they broke apart, they shared a heavy look that felt filled with meaning, Tezuka took Ryoma’s hand in his somewhat reverently and led him away from the party. The stars continued to twinkle in the midday sky.
Sengoku let out a low whistle through his teeth. “Ryoma really is pretty powerful, hey?”
"Someone even Fuji can't scheme against," Inui stated, and the other gods nodded their heads in agreement.
.........
For those who were confused/interested:
Tezuka = Zeus
Ryoma = Nyx
Fuji = Hera
Jiroh = Hypnos
Eiji = Dionysus
Oishi = Hestia
Momo = Momos
Inui = Metis
Kirihara = Ares
Sengoku = Caerus
Yukimura = Hades
Atobe = Poseidon
siilk
Prompt: PoT, TezRyo, Tezuka as floored occupant and Ryoma as door-to-door salesman for adult items.
Tezuka’s eyebrow twitches. “I’m really not interested.”
The salesman – some twenty-something smooth-skinned man with green hair who hasn’t even bothered with a tie – just smirks and slaps his briefcase down on the coffee table. Tezuka isn’t even sure how he made it inside his apartment, but it’s a common problem. He doesn’t have the heart to slam the door in the door-to-door salespeople’s faces. His mother brought him up to have good manners, and he’s beginning to curse her for it.
“Don’t lie. Everyone is interested in this sort of thing.” The briefcase flips open, and Tezuka immediately glances away. It’s mortifying. Who goes and sells this sort of thing door-to-door?
“I don’t really have time for this, and I’m not going to buy anything anyway. Your time would be better spent elsewhere,” Tezuka says firmly, though the effect is largely lost by his reluctance to look in the direction of the briefcase.
“It’s Sunday, and you were reading a book when I knocked on the door.” At Tezuka’s stricken glance, he adds, “It’s still sitting on the couch.” He picks it up and inspects it critically. “Big Bad City?” A smirk. “You’ll definitely be interested.”
Tezuka is definitely going to write a formal complaint. “What’s your name?” he asks crossly.
“Echizen Ryoma.” The salesman tosses the name out carelessly, and doesn’t ask for one in return. Tezuka has never before met such a rude or pushy salesman. “So. We can skip the candles and birth control for you – they’re just to make the women happy.” He shifts through the disorganised mess inside of the case – what sort of salesman is he dealing with here? – and smirks. “Right. Start with the basics. Lubes.”
It takes a minute for the implication to sink in. “I’m not-” Tezuka sputters.
“Of course you’re not,” Echizen answers smoothly without even missing a beat. “I’ve got a pretty big range here today. There are both flavoured and scented varieties. Let’s see…” With a bored expression, Echizen picks through the merchandise, before finally selecting one non-descript light purple bottle. “Lavender scented is perfect for you I think.” He pops off the cap and pushes the bottle into Tezuka’s hands.
The scent is pleasant, and Tezuka takes a deep breath before catching what’s doing and putting it back on the table. “I already said I wasn’t interested. You should try someone else.”
“Still not convinced?” Echizen sounds annoyed. “…Fine. Maybe you’ll change your mind when you see our range of dildos.”
Tezuka chokes when from the depths of the briefcase the salesman produces a large, rippled black object, and holds it up against his cheek, dragging it softly against the skin there and stopping it right against the edge of his lips.
“About your size?” he asks slyly.
It takes him a minute to get his vocal chords working. “This is harassment. I’ve already told you I’m not interested in your… wares. Please leave, or I’ll be forced to make a complaint.”
Those cat-like eyes seem like they’re assessing him. Then the salesman’s shoulders slump, and Tezuka feels relief at the victory.
That relief is short-lived. “Che. You’re a stubborn one. Fine then. I’ll even give you a free demonstration.” Echizen nonchalantly begins removing his belt.
“What are you-?” Tezuka protests. His face feels like its on fire.
“I don’t do this for just anyone, you know.” The pants are gone now, exposing a very nice pair of legs and… he isn’t even wearing underwear?
Echizen doesn’t look the least bit embarrassed, despite the fact that he’s half-naked in front of a complete stranger. He inspects the dildo critically, before tossing it back into the briefcase violating his coffee table and rifling through its lewd contents for something else. He extracts another one, slightly smaller but with a wire trailing from the thick end. “Vibrator,” he explains off-hand to Tezuka, whose face is attempting to discover new shades of red.
“I-” His normally reliable speech faculties seem to have abandoned him.
“You’re right – lube first,” he agrees, picking up the nice lavender-scented stuff he’d been trying to sell earlier and liberally coating two fingers with it.
“You’re not going to-” Tezuka begins to say, but the hand has already disappeared. There’s a brief expression of discomfort on Echizen’s face, before he seems to remember that he has an audience and smirks at him. Tiny droplets of sweat are beginning to bead on his forehead. This completely shameless salesman simply stares at him through half-lidded eyes full of expectation.
“You don’t have to- just for a demonstration-” Tezuka protests, becoming frantic. He doesn’t dare move from the chair.
“This is the important bit,” Echizen announces breathily, coating the ‘merchandise’ in the same sweet-smelling lubricant as his fingers. He adjusts his position for a moment, angling his body so that Tezuka can see clearly. It’s a terribly lewd pose, and Tezuka momentarily forgets to breathe. “All of our products have extra definition- Nnnh – and texture in order to – ahh – enhance the experience. It’s battery-operated, so other than the control-” It’s all the way in, and his hips start to vibrate slightly.
“I’ll buy it,” Tezuka croaks out. His fingers are digging painfully in the arms of the couch, and as much as he’s embarrassed to be staring he can’t bring himself to look away.
This stranger named Echizen glances up at him through fluttering eyelashes. His cheeks are flushed. “Of course you will. You know, I’m running a deal at the moment, maybe I can interest you in-”
Tezuka winds up buying half the catalogue.
He doesn’t regret the purchase.
umarekawareru
Prompt: Gintama - Katsura and Elizabeth being tailed by the Shinsengumi with french fries to go.
Hijitaka lit a cigarette – his third that hour. “You lost them?”
Yamazaki slumped against the wheel of the car. “Sorry, Hijikata-buchou.”
“It’s Vice-commander,” he snapped. “Kondo’s the commander.”
“Right, Hijikata-buchou.”
“What’s with the damn ‘buchou, buchou’ all of a sudden?” he mumbled under his breath, but decided he didn’t really want to question it. So long as none of the other members of Shinsengumi heard and picked up on the habit – he was loyal to Kondo, after all.
He glanced out of the window. How hard could it be to tail one of Edo’s most famous outlaws when he was always carting some giant white duck… thing… around? It probably wasn’t an Amanto – those Joi bastards couldn’t stand them. Hijikata couldn’t stand them either, but the difference was he wasn’t so stupid as to believe that they weren’t here to stay.
“We’ll have to start again,” he grumbled. “It’s lunchtime. Let’s get some takeaway and stake out the last point again.”
“Right away, Hijikata-buchou!” Yamazaki started up the engine and drove the car, laden down with badminton gear, onto the street. It lurched around a corner, and a spare racquet fell and hit Hijikata on the shoulder.
“Yamazaki! Why the hell did you have to fill the Shinsengumi’s car-” It was disgusting that the ‘car’ was still singular. “-With all your badminton crap?!”
“Sorry Hijikata-buchou! Kondo-san suggested it! For camouflage, sir!”
Who the hell drove to badminton practice in a car like this?! Hijikata took a deep drag on his cigarette, willing it to calm his nerves. “Just get the food.”
They pulled up to a drive-through burger place. The speaker was tinny, and it sounded like the salesclerk was an Amanto that got a human stuck in his throat. The garbled mess of distortion that came out was probably ‘Thank you for waiting, what would you like today?’
Yamazaki ordered three cheeseburgers and two fries for himself, then turned to Hijikata. “Just a burger,” he grunted, then added, “With extra mayonnaise.”
There was another fuzzed garble that was, if the conventions of drive-throughs held, most likely something along the lines of ‘Thank you, please proceed to the window to make your payments and collect your food’. Hijikata rifled through his wallet, pulling out a wad of crumpled notes. This was definitely coming out of petty cash later. He’d wasted three days already chasing up various sightings of the infamous Katzura, and in the meanwhile the paperwork just kept piling up back at headquarters.
They pulled up to the drive-through window. Hijikata nearly swallowed his cigarette.
“That will be 1,350 yen,” the drive-through attendant stated in a calm and measured voice as he handed over the two brown paper bags of food. His long hair was pulled back into a ponytail, he was wearing a ridiculous white sailor cap and an apron with the restaurant’s logo emblazoned upon the chest. That wasn’t the really telling part – it was the giant white duck… thing… wearing a perpetually blank expression and a matching ensemble standing next to him.
“It’s Katzura!” he shouted, dropping the bag onto his lap and fumbling for his sword before realising that there wasn’t much good to drawing it in the car. What the hell was the leader of the Joi faction doing working at a fast-food restaurant?!
“I’m sorry honourable customers, but as you can see my name tag definitely says ‘Greg’, and my assistant here is ‘Elizabeth’,” Katzura said with a completely straight face.
“Don’t kid me! Who else could you be?! And you didn’t even disguise your comrade’s name! Anyway that you look at it, you're definitely suspicious!" Hijikata yelled.
Elizabeth held up a sign - 'Would you like fries with that?'
Yamazaki tugged on the vice-commander's sleeve. "Umm, Hijikata-buchou - your burger is ticking."
Hijikata opened the bag. A bomb was nestled inside.
Two blocks away, Gintoki parked his scooter and scratched his stomach. "Man, I'm starving. What is this world coming to when all a man has to eat is sukobon, sukobon, sukobon, day in and day out. Now even my parfait tastes like sukobon. Oh, but what's this? You have to have money to buy something other sukobon. In this materialistic world, to survive on anything other than sukobon-"
The shouji of the shops nearby rattled at the sudden rumble. A small, round shape hurtled from the sky and landed on Gintoki's head, cutting short his monologue. Cautiously, he reached up and plucked the foreign object from his silver, permed hair.
He blinked sleepily at the sight of a half-shredded burger in his hand.
"Ara? This must be..."
A familiar longhaired figure and a white... duck... thing... chose that moment to run past.
"-a promotional giveaway," Gintoki quickly concluded, stuffing the burger into his mouth and remounting his scooter in one swift motion. On second thoughts, he was definitely feeling like visiting the Pachinko Parlour instead. Or maybe a bathhouse. Preferably one on the opposite side of Edo.
yusahana6323
Prompt: Monochrome Factor, Shirogane/Akira, Cold Night.
Akira clutches the blanket tighter, frowning.
It’s cold.
It’s not supposed to be cold yet. It’s still Autumn, and he shouldn’t need to bring out extra blankets for at least another couple of weeks.
It’s that stubborn denial that has him curled up and shivering in his bed in the early hours of the morning. It’s frustrating, because he has school the next day and he just knows that Aya’s going to drag him down from the nice sunny roof to be bored in classes again and will cause an even bigger ruckus if he’s not awake for her verbal lashing. But how is he supposed to sleep when it feels like his skin is slowly turning to ice?
He hates the cold. And here in the middle of the night, he’s left with nothing to think about other than how in another month of so it’s going to be cold all the time.
He’s in the middle of bargaining with himself about whether or not it’s worth braving the frigid air to fetch another blanket when suddenly the bed shifts, and there’s wonderful lovely warmth pressed all along his back, and… “Shirogane?!”
“You’re still awake, Akira-kun,” the Shin whispers in his ear.
Shirogane is supposed to be cold too – shadows are cold, light is warmth, it’s the basic rule of nature. But he’s obviously using a doppelganger – probably his doppelganger - to take his shadow’s place, as this warmth is decidedly human.
“You pervert! What are you doing?” he snaps out, even as a pale arm is draped over his side.
“Akira-kun is cold, right?” Shirogane replies in a singsong voice.
His first instinct is to swear, kick the Shin out of the bed and then maybe out of the room too - not that physical barriers make any difference, but it would make him feel better.
In the end, though, he just sighs dramatically and closes his eyes. “You better not do anything weird,” he warns mid-yawn, then makes a face as a stray strand of long white hair tickles his nose. He’s getting sleepy already, and thoughts of the miserable winter months approaching have been chased from his mind.
If Shirogane will chase away the cold, he guesses he can deal with it. Just for now.
silverymare
Prompt: FFIX, Vivi.
Vivi didn't know a whole lot about himself, but he did know one incredibly important thing: That he was very, very cute. And that this was more powerful than Meteor.
"I just bought you that nice new staff," Zidane bargained. The thief had all the money, since it became apparent early on that he'd wind up with all the money anyway and they might as well deprive him of his fun by giving it to him first. "And that magic amulet."
A pair of bright eyes stared up at the thief from underneath the wide-brimmed hat.
Zidane's tail swished once in annoyance. "I know it's not much, but I don't think you're understanding how delicate the budget is here!"
The eyes grew slightly larger.
"We're on important business! We don't have cash to spare for that sort of thing. What if we have to bribe our way past some guard, or Steiner breaks his armour again?"
Vivi stared.
Zidane crumpled. "Fine! But you can explain to Dagger why we can't afford that emerald she's been after!"
The bright eyes creased into happy crescents as the thief forked over the money, and handed Vivi a triple-scoop cone of chocolate ice-cream.
"You better just eat it before Quina sees."
aventria Prompt: Anything TezRyo in the Reborn Universe.
Tezuka presses his hands together on his lap, trying to still the shaking. He must appear strong for them. He’s pillar of the family – the boss that they rely on. His grandfather has lectured him on it time and time again.
After all these years, he still can’t bring himself to accept it. It’s so wrong. He’s always sending them out to fight in his stead. Into that dangerous world filled with rings and boxes.
Tezuka longs for simpler times, when they just played tennis. Before Vongola and Millefiore brought their feud to Japan’s shores. Before he suddenly found himself in charge of a crumbling yakuza group and dragging his closest friends into war.
He should never have made the alliance. He regrets it every day. He should have stuck to business dealings and remained neutral. But he’d been impressed by the young Vongola’s honesty and kind-hearted nature. It made him want to believe in a gentler mafia, in a brighter future.
Now it’s taking all of their resources just to survive.
The phone lights up. He answers it before it can even ring. “Inui?”
There’s the dull roar of gunfire and explosions in the background, but they sound far away. “Tezuka. We got the information, but we were intercepted – we couldn’t save the contact-”
They have the information. He regrets the loss of their informant, but at least he’d managed to deliver the data to Inui. “Any injuries?” Tezuka interrupts.
“Momoshiro sustained some damage, but he’s walking. Everyone else is accounted for.” He pauses. “Except for… you know.”
“Still no word?”
“No, Tezuka. I’m sorry.”
Tezuka closes his eyes. He didn’t expect there to be any. There never is. He comes and goes as he pleases. “Very well. Return to base immediately. We’ll decide what to do from there.” The phone is swiftly replaced on its cradle – it dangerous to keep the line open for too long.
He regrets the alliance, but knows they couldn’t really have avoided this war. It was Millefiore who killed his grandfather, after all.
There are several thumps in the hall. Tezuka pauses – he’s just spoken with Inui, and he’s over thirty kilometres away still. Fuji has gone out of town to find somewhere safe to experiment with his new Mist box, and everyone else is backing up Inui.
He touches his index finger briefly, just to confirm the presence of the ring. It’s probably just one of the staff, but there’s no sense in being careless.
The door swings open, but caution is immediately forgotten when Tezuka spies the green-haired man leaning against the frame. His suit is torn and ragged, he looks about ready to keel over, but he’s still clutching a case to his chest as though its presence alone is enough to keep him standing.
“Ryoma!” The word slips from his mouth unconsciously, and he’s frozen in place. It’s been weeks since he’s seen his face. He nearly bites through his tongue at the sight of the crimson stains on the white shirt that have started seeping through to the jacket. “You’re injured. Where have you-”
Ryoma ignores him and lurches into the room. He dumps the blood-spattered case on the mahogany desk and flips open the lip.
Tezuka briefly forgets his questions at the sight of what’s inside.
Four B-class rings – an amazing haul in its own right, but his attention is drawn inexorably to the box in the centre. He can sense what it is without even touching it.
“Brought back a present for you,” Ryoma rasps, a wobbly smirk on his lips.
“A sky-attribute box…” Tezuka has an A-class Sky ring – a rarity in itself – but Sky boxes are almost impossible to find. “This is what you disappeared for?” He remembers himself, and turns stern. “You should have told someone where you were going, if you needed backup-”
“I don’t need backup,” Ryoma interrupts. He slumps down into a seat – it’s Tezuka’s, but he doesn’t show any sign of caring – and waves a hand airily. “The rings are Sun and Lightning. Kawamura-senpai and Eiji-senpai owe me burgers.”
“What happened?” Tezuka asks. He doesn’t expect an answer. He doesn’t get one. “You need a doctor.”
“Che, I patched myself up.”
It’s a terrible job. Tezuka keeps a roll of bandages in his desk for this very purpose. “Shirt off.”
Ryoma flutters his eyelashes at him. “Buchou, are you sure that’s really appropriate with your subordinates?”
Tezuka twitches. Fuji’s been a bad influence on Ryoma. He never should have let them train together. “Echizen.”
He rolls his eyes and shrugs out of his jacket, barely hiding a wince as he does so. “Back to last names again, huh?” he mumbles. He throws his shirt to the side.
The bandages are loose and sodden. Tezuka’s mouth is set in a firm line as he unwinds them and checks the injury. A clean cut, probably from a sword. It doesn’t look that deep, and it’s already been disinfected.
Ryoma fiddles with the A-class Cloud ring on his finger as Tezuka silently replaces the bloodied bandages. The young yakuza boss feels anxious looking at it. He’s read the reports about Vongola’s Cloud guardian searching for rings and boxes. There aren’t many with the Cloud attribute, and fewer still that will take on Hibari Kyouya, but Ryoma never backs down from a fight. Tezuka quietly dreads the day when Vongola’s strongest guardian hears about their stash.
“You shouldn’t take so many risks. You don’t owe me anything. You don’t even need to be a part of this.”
Ryoma’s eyes grow dark. “Millefiore killed my father too, you know.”
Tezuka doesn’t have a response for that. He considers Echizen Nanjiroh’s death his fault too, but Ryoma rebuffs his apologies every time.
“You shouldn’t be so careless. You’re not invincible,” he says quietly.
“Neither are you, Buchou.”
Tezuka clenches his jaw. It takes all of his strength to keep his expression impassive as he clips the bandage firmly into place. They’ve had this argument before, and the result never changes. “You should still visit a doctor later.”
A careless shrug. The light catches the bare shoulder, revealing another faded scar from another mission. Tezuka’s fingers hover over it briefly, not quite touching the skin.
They stand there for a long moment, and the silence grows heavy with the unspoken words.
Tezuka awkwardly withdraws his hand. “Thank you. For the box and rings,” he says, because he doesn’t know what else to say.
Ryoma just smirks, then stifles a yawn. “It was no big deal.” He rubs at his neck. “I’m going to sleep. No risk of you getting murdered now you’ve got a box, right?”
“I’ll be fine. Headquarters is still secure.”
Ryoma nods sleepily and shuffles from the room. Tezuka sits down heavily, eyes transfixed on the pile of bloody bandages on the desk.
He wants to keep Ryoma safe, but he doesn’t know how. He’ll always send him out again. He doesn’t have a choice. Ryoma’s the Cloud – he’ll just go anyway.
argentum_luna Prompt: Inui/Ryoma, Milk
Ryoma makes a good effort at not squirming under Inui's attention. He fails.
"How many glasses have you drunk today?"
He's briefly wracked by guilt. "...Two. Like always, senpai."
"100% probability that you are lying. The length of the pause gave you away," Inui informs him, then marks something down in his notebook. "I expected this after the last data review."
"I had one glass this morning," Ryoma concedes with a scowl.
"As I predicted. This is fine. I'm merely going to have to intervene." With a thin smile Inui produces a glass, three-quarters full of off-white liquid. Somehow the data gatherer is able to make even ordinary milk look disgusting. "I brought a second glass of milk especially for you."
Ryoma is annoyed at the realisation that he must have already prepared it in expectation. "I'll have a second glass at home tonight," he protests, backing away.
"You've only grown two centimetres over the past six months. I'm not convinced. You'll drink it here... where I can see you." Inui holds out the glass, and the captain looks like he's in the mood to assign laps, so Ryoma has no choice but to accept it.
He takes a deep breath, and brings the cup to his lips. The viscosity isn't quite what he expected, and he winds up over-tipping it, getting a mouthful of the stuff before he's ready. It dribbles out the edges of the glass, running down his chin and onto his neck in a thin trail.
It's warm and thick and salty. Ryoma nearly gags, but squeezes his eyes shut and determinedly swallows. He knew it. Inui's done something to it. No way he'd ever give out an ordinary beverage.
He perseveres, swallowing again. The last of it slides down his throat, he lets out a gasp, and then wipes at his face with his collar to clean the rest off. It feels gross and sticky in the afternoon sun.
The freshman frowns as he hands the empty glass back to the senior. "There's something wrong with that milk, senpai." It's nowhere near as bad as some of the data gatherer's other concoctions, but milk should never ever taste like that.
Ryoma doesn't notice the horrified expressions on the faces of the other Regulars. All he knows is that there's something a bit creepy about Inui's smile.
pharrezychica Prompt: Tokyo Babylon or X1999, something with Subaru
A familiar face, walking side-by-side with a dog in an alley. The air feels suddenly thick, and the cloying scent of cherry blossoms fills his nostrils.
No. He doesn't want to. He's lost so many people already-
But the tree demands it. And the tree is what he left behind. It's fate.
"Eh? What is it Inuki?" The young woman turns, and her face lights up with recognition. "Is that... Subaru, isn't it? You're Subaru, right?!"
He doesn't reply - just stares, taking note of all the changes. Her hair is slightly longer, cupping her chin instead of brushing her ears, and she's grown taller. Matured. But there's still a sparkle of laughter in her eyes that not even the prospect of the end of the world managed to extinguish.
"It's been so long! Isn't this nostalgic? Look, Inuki's all grown up now!" It's true - the spirit puppy has returned to his former majesty. "What about you?! I haven't seen you in... what, it must be years!"
"You're looking well, Yuzuriha," he says softly.
She smiles brilliantly at him, and for one moment all he can see is Hokuto. But all he can smell is cherry blossoms. "Thanks, Subaru! And you're still looking handsome too." She giggles. "But don't be getting any ideas - I'm spoken for."
"...Kusanagi?"
"Nn. I guess it was fate after all. A good kind of fate, though." She clasps her hands behind her back and looks up at the skyscrapers surrounding them. "Isn't it amazing now? It's like it never happened." There's a touch of reverence in her voice, tinged with just a little bit of sadness.
Subaru makes a small sound of agreement in his throat. He wishes the bridge was never fixed. Some things you just can't fix after they're broken.
"The Tower won't be touched, though. It might disrupt the barrier. There are people in the Metropolitan who know about it - they'll make sure it stays. They'd have to get through him, anyway."
He nods, but doesn't comment. He's seen Fuuma a couple of times since then - usually when he drops near the Tower to pay his own respects. He wants to comment, though. To buy just a little more time.
"It's a little depressing to think about I guess. Sorry for bringing it up - I haven't seen you for so long and here I am going on about things you'd probably rather forget about, right? It's just that there aren't many people I can talk about it with, you know?"
The smell of cherry blossoms grows overpowering. He can feel his hands trembling.
"Eh? Subaru, are you okay?" Yuzuriha tilts her head and places a single finger on her lips.
Why did she have to wander the streets of Tokyo alone this night?
Inuki growls at him.
"You're not sick, are you? Your face is kinda weird. Oh, but I don't mean it in a rude way! It's just-"
Yuzuriha. Sweet, young, Yuzuriha - the one that deserved the future the most out of all of them. Even despite everything that happened, despite the lost lives and destruction, she's somehow remained pure-hearted. Even Fuuma couldn't touch her.
Purity. Innocence. Spiritual strength. The tree's favourite sort of prey.
It's not fair.
Inuki barks, but Subaru's hand is already covered in blood.
jade_peace Prompt: Greek/Roman Gods and/or Epics, TezRyo.
"Did you hear?" Eiji asked keenly, even as the party raged behind them. Goblets of wine were passed from hand to hand as singing and the twang of harpsichords filled the air. "Jiroh put Tezuka to sleep for twelve whole days."
Momoshiro laughed. "Why would he do that?! Tezuka'll be furious! He's really an idiot!"
"Fuji asked him," Eiji said matter-of-factly, and the gods and goddesses nearby leaned in closer, eager for gossip. It was common knowledge to everyone but Tezuka that Fuji was always scheming in the background, disposing of Tezuka's many admirers. "He wanted to cause trouble for Mizuki again without Tezuka finding out about it."
Oishi shook his head. "That explains all the thunder I heard earlier."
Eiji giggled. "Tezuka was going to make him run one thousand laps around the surface of the world."
"Was?" Sengoku was interested now. "How did he get out of it? Not even I am that lucky!"
"Jiroh ran for it. He hid behind Ryoma."
At those words, a hush fell over the group. "Ryoma," Oishi breathed. "What happened?"
"Tezuka turned away, and Jiroh got away with it," Eiji reported smugly.
"Super lucky!" Sengoku exclaimed. "I didn't think Tezuka would back down for anyone when he's mad!"
It was true - Tezuka was monstrously strong, and he only needed to fear his equals: Atobe, God of the Seas and Yukimura, God of the Underworld. They all cast a glance towards the highest point of the party. Tezuka sat on his throne, nursing a goblet in silence. For once Fuji was nowhere to be seen, showing some wisdom in making himself scarce at such a time.
Inui blandly remarked, "It is strange. Though the magnitude of Ryoma's strength remains unconfirmed, Tezuka has never hesitated to risk anyone's wrath before. This is the first evidence I have that he isn't fearless." He paused. "If that is what stayed his hand."
"Yukimura would take Ryoma on," Kirihara said viciously, stabbing a slab of meat with his blade and lifting it to his mouth.
"Tartarus is below even Hades," Inui pointed out in his infinite reason and wisdom. "I'm sure if he desired, he would have done so by now."
“A mortal said once that if you dropped an anvil from Olympus, it would take nine days to fall to Tartarus,” Sengoku quipped.
"Ryoma's not anything to be afraid of." Momoshiro spoke with an authority borne half from familiarity and half from a reckless desire to criticise everything. "He's gloomy and anti-social and really really short."
"Nyaa, Momo's sort of right. I always send him an invitation but he never comes to any of my parties," Eiji reported mournfully.
Kirihara spat out a mouthful of wine. "You invited him? Are you an idiot?!"
A heavy silence abruptly descended upon the party. The stars were suddenly glistening in a dark sky. Night had fallen in the middle of the day.
"It's Ryoma," Oishi croaked. Kirihara, despite his earlier bravado, was suddenly looking nervous.
Into the midst of the silent party an ethereal figure glided. Every eye was drawn to him - clad in midnight green and black robes that glittered with stars, skin the colour of moonlight and his head adorned with dark green hair that made lesser gods whisper of Chaos behind their hands.
"Ochibi! You came!" Eiji, ever focused on the party, showed absolutely none of the fear of the other guests. "We were just talking about how I'm always, always inviting you! Why did you come this time?"
An amused smirk played over God of Night's lips. He glanced towards the raised dais. "I saw something interesting." His voice was low and velvety. A number of goddesses nearby were almost beside themselves with excitement.
Tezuka had stood at Ryoma’s entrance, though didn’t move from his position on the dais. Ryoma continued up the steps towards him, the gods and goddesses parting before him like a wave.
It was only when he was standing in front of the ruler of Olympus that his short stature became apparent - he really was quite small, but his presence covered the entire party. Tezuka’s pure white robes stood out in stark contrast to Ryoma’s midnight-coloured clothes. Standing there face to face, they were like night and day. The God ruling over the sky, and the God ruling the darkness beneath even the Underworld.
When Tezuka spoke, his voice was like molten metal, a quiet thunder infused with power. “Ryoma.”
It was all he managed to say before Ryoma raised a pair of arms and gently guided the ruler of Olympus into a passionate kiss.
A ripple ran through the crowd at the audacity of such a gesture, but to their surprise Tezuka did not pull away, nor did he seem angry. When they broke apart, they shared a heavy look that felt filled with meaning, Tezuka took Ryoma’s hand in his somewhat reverently and led him away from the party. The stars continued to twinkle in the midday sky.
Sengoku let out a low whistle through his teeth. “Ryoma really is pretty powerful, hey?”
"Someone even Fuji can't scheme against," Inui stated, and the other gods nodded their heads in agreement.
.........
For those who were confused/interested:
Tezuka = Zeus
Ryoma = Nyx
Fuji = Hera
Jiroh = Hypnos
Eiji = Dionysus
Oishi = Hestia
Momo = Momos
Inui = Metis
Kirihara = Ares
Sengoku = Caerus
Yukimura = Hades
Atobe = Poseidon
siilk Prompt: PoT, TezRyo, Tezuka as floored occupant and Ryoma as door-to-door salesman for adult items.
Tezuka’s eyebrow twitches. “I’m really not interested.”
The salesman – some twenty-something smooth-skinned man with green hair who hasn’t even bothered with a tie – just smirks and slaps his briefcase down on the coffee table. Tezuka isn’t even sure how he made it inside his apartment, but it’s a common problem. He doesn’t have the heart to slam the door in the door-to-door salespeople’s faces. His mother brought him up to have good manners, and he’s beginning to curse her for it.
“Don’t lie. Everyone is interested in this sort of thing.” The briefcase flips open, and Tezuka immediately glances away. It’s mortifying. Who goes and sells this sort of thing door-to-door?
“I don’t really have time for this, and I’m not going to buy anything anyway. Your time would be better spent elsewhere,” Tezuka says firmly, though the effect is largely lost by his reluctance to look in the direction of the briefcase.
“It’s Sunday, and you were reading a book when I knocked on the door.” At Tezuka’s stricken glance, he adds, “It’s still sitting on the couch.” He picks it up and inspects it critically. “Big Bad City?” A smirk. “You’ll definitely be interested.”
Tezuka is definitely going to write a formal complaint. “What’s your name?” he asks crossly.
“Echizen Ryoma.” The salesman tosses the name out carelessly, and doesn’t ask for one in return. Tezuka has never before met such a rude or pushy salesman. “So. We can skip the candles and birth control for you – they’re just to make the women happy.” He shifts through the disorganised mess inside of the case – what sort of salesman is he dealing with here? – and smirks. “Right. Start with the basics. Lubes.”
It takes a minute for the implication to sink in. “I’m not-” Tezuka sputters.
“Of course you’re not,” Echizen answers smoothly without even missing a beat. “I’ve got a pretty big range here today. There are both flavoured and scented varieties. Let’s see…” With a bored expression, Echizen picks through the merchandise, before finally selecting one non-descript light purple bottle. “Lavender scented is perfect for you I think.” He pops off the cap and pushes the bottle into Tezuka’s hands.
The scent is pleasant, and Tezuka takes a deep breath before catching what’s doing and putting it back on the table. “I already said I wasn’t interested. You should try someone else.”
“Still not convinced?” Echizen sounds annoyed. “…Fine. Maybe you’ll change your mind when you see our range of dildos.”
Tezuka chokes when from the depths of the briefcase the salesman produces a large, rippled black object, and holds it up against his cheek, dragging it softly against the skin there and stopping it right against the edge of his lips.
“About your size?” he asks slyly.
It takes him a minute to get his vocal chords working. “This is harassment. I’ve already told you I’m not interested in your… wares. Please leave, or I’ll be forced to make a complaint.”
Those cat-like eyes seem like they’re assessing him. Then the salesman’s shoulders slump, and Tezuka feels relief at the victory.
That relief is short-lived. “Che. You’re a stubborn one. Fine then. I’ll even give you a free demonstration.” Echizen nonchalantly begins removing his belt.
“What are you-?” Tezuka protests. His face feels like its on fire.
“I don’t do this for just anyone, you know.” The pants are gone now, exposing a very nice pair of legs and… he isn’t even wearing underwear?
Echizen doesn’t look the least bit embarrassed, despite the fact that he’s half-naked in front of a complete stranger. He inspects the dildo critically, before tossing it back into the briefcase violating his coffee table and rifling through its lewd contents for something else. He extracts another one, slightly smaller but with a wire trailing from the thick end. “Vibrator,” he explains off-hand to Tezuka, whose face is attempting to discover new shades of red.
“I-” His normally reliable speech faculties seem to have abandoned him.
“You’re right – lube first,” he agrees, picking up the nice lavender-scented stuff he’d been trying to sell earlier and liberally coating two fingers with it.
“You’re not going to-” Tezuka begins to say, but the hand has already disappeared. There’s a brief expression of discomfort on Echizen’s face, before he seems to remember that he has an audience and smirks at him. Tiny droplets of sweat are beginning to bead on his forehead. This completely shameless salesman simply stares at him through half-lidded eyes full of expectation.
“You don’t have to- just for a demonstration-” Tezuka protests, becoming frantic. He doesn’t dare move from the chair.
“This is the important bit,” Echizen announces breathily, coating the ‘merchandise’ in the same sweet-smelling lubricant as his fingers. He adjusts his position for a moment, angling his body so that Tezuka can see clearly. It’s a terribly lewd pose, and Tezuka momentarily forgets to breathe. “All of our products have extra definition- Nnnh – and texture in order to – ahh – enhance the experience. It’s battery-operated, so other than the control-” It’s all the way in, and his hips start to vibrate slightly.
“I’ll buy it,” Tezuka croaks out. His fingers are digging painfully in the arms of the couch, and as much as he’s embarrassed to be staring he can’t bring himself to look away.
This stranger named Echizen glances up at him through fluttering eyelashes. His cheeks are flushed. “Of course you will. You know, I’m running a deal at the moment, maybe I can interest you in-”
Tezuka winds up buying half the catalogue.
He doesn’t regret the purchase.
umarekawareru Prompt: Gintama - Katsura and Elizabeth being tailed by the Shinsengumi with french fries to go.
Hijitaka lit a cigarette – his third that hour. “You lost them?”
Yamazaki slumped against the wheel of the car. “Sorry, Hijikata-buchou.”
“It’s Vice-commander,” he snapped. “Kondo’s the commander.”
“Right, Hijikata-buchou.”
“What’s with the damn ‘buchou, buchou’ all of a sudden?” he mumbled under his breath, but decided he didn’t really want to question it. So long as none of the other members of Shinsengumi heard and picked up on the habit – he was loyal to Kondo, after all.
He glanced out of the window. How hard could it be to tail one of Edo’s most famous outlaws when he was always carting some giant white duck… thing… around? It probably wasn’t an Amanto – those Joi bastards couldn’t stand them. Hijikata couldn’t stand them either, but the difference was he wasn’t so stupid as to believe that they weren’t here to stay.
“We’ll have to start again,” he grumbled. “It’s lunchtime. Let’s get some takeaway and stake out the last point again.”
“Right away, Hijikata-buchou!” Yamazaki started up the engine and drove the car, laden down with badminton gear, onto the street. It lurched around a corner, and a spare racquet fell and hit Hijikata on the shoulder.
“Yamazaki! Why the hell did you have to fill the Shinsengumi’s car-” It was disgusting that the ‘car’ was still singular. “-With all your badminton crap?!”
“Sorry Hijikata-buchou! Kondo-san suggested it! For camouflage, sir!”
Who the hell drove to badminton practice in a car like this?! Hijikata took a deep drag on his cigarette, willing it to calm his nerves. “Just get the food.”
They pulled up to a drive-through burger place. The speaker was tinny, and it sounded like the salesclerk was an Amanto that got a human stuck in his throat. The garbled mess of distortion that came out was probably ‘Thank you for waiting, what would you like today?’
Yamazaki ordered three cheeseburgers and two fries for himself, then turned to Hijikata. “Just a burger,” he grunted, then added, “With extra mayonnaise.”
There was another fuzzed garble that was, if the conventions of drive-throughs held, most likely something along the lines of ‘Thank you, please proceed to the window to make your payments and collect your food’. Hijikata rifled through his wallet, pulling out a wad of crumpled notes. This was definitely coming out of petty cash later. He’d wasted three days already chasing up various sightings of the infamous Katzura, and in the meanwhile the paperwork just kept piling up back at headquarters.
They pulled up to the drive-through window. Hijikata nearly swallowed his cigarette.
“That will be 1,350 yen,” the drive-through attendant stated in a calm and measured voice as he handed over the two brown paper bags of food. His long hair was pulled back into a ponytail, he was wearing a ridiculous white sailor cap and an apron with the restaurant’s logo emblazoned upon the chest. That wasn’t the really telling part – it was the giant white duck… thing… wearing a perpetually blank expression and a matching ensemble standing next to him.
“It’s Katzura!” he shouted, dropping the bag onto his lap and fumbling for his sword before realising that there wasn’t much good to drawing it in the car. What the hell was the leader of the Joi faction doing working at a fast-food restaurant?!
“I’m sorry honourable customers, but as you can see my name tag definitely says ‘Greg’, and my assistant here is ‘Elizabeth’,” Katzura said with a completely straight face.
“Don’t kid me! Who else could you be?! And you didn’t even disguise your comrade’s name! Anyway that you look at it, you're definitely suspicious!" Hijikata yelled.
Elizabeth held up a sign - 'Would you like fries with that?'
Yamazaki tugged on the vice-commander's sleeve. "Umm, Hijikata-buchou - your burger is ticking."
Hijikata opened the bag. A bomb was nestled inside.
Two blocks away, Gintoki parked his scooter and scratched his stomach. "Man, I'm starving. What is this world coming to when all a man has to eat is sukobon, sukobon, sukobon, day in and day out. Now even my parfait tastes like sukobon. Oh, but what's this? You have to have money to buy something other sukobon. In this materialistic world, to survive on anything other than sukobon-"
The shouji of the shops nearby rattled at the sudden rumble. A small, round shape hurtled from the sky and landed on Gintoki's head, cutting short his monologue. Cautiously, he reached up and plucked the foreign object from his silver, permed hair.
He blinked sleepily at the sight of a half-shredded burger in his hand.
"Ara? This must be..."
A familiar longhaired figure and a white... duck... thing... chose that moment to run past.
"-a promotional giveaway," Gintoki quickly concluded, stuffing the burger into his mouth and remounting his scooter in one swift motion. On second thoughts, he was definitely feeling like visiting the Pachinko Parlour instead. Or maybe a bathhouse. Preferably one on the opposite side of Edo.
yusahana6323 Prompt: Monochrome Factor, Shirogane/Akira, Cold Night.
Akira clutches the blanket tighter, frowning.
It’s cold.
It’s not supposed to be cold yet. It’s still Autumn, and he shouldn’t need to bring out extra blankets for at least another couple of weeks.
It’s that stubborn denial that has him curled up and shivering in his bed in the early hours of the morning. It’s frustrating, because he has school the next day and he just knows that Aya’s going to drag him down from the nice sunny roof to be bored in classes again and will cause an even bigger ruckus if he’s not awake for her verbal lashing. But how is he supposed to sleep when it feels like his skin is slowly turning to ice?
He hates the cold. And here in the middle of the night, he’s left with nothing to think about other than how in another month of so it’s going to be cold all the time.
He’s in the middle of bargaining with himself about whether or not it’s worth braving the frigid air to fetch another blanket when suddenly the bed shifts, and there’s wonderful lovely warmth pressed all along his back, and… “Shirogane?!”
“You’re still awake, Akira-kun,” the Shin whispers in his ear.
Shirogane is supposed to be cold too – shadows are cold, light is warmth, it’s the basic rule of nature. But he’s obviously using a doppelganger – probably his doppelganger - to take his shadow’s place, as this warmth is decidedly human.
“You pervert! What are you doing?” he snaps out, even as a pale arm is draped over his side.
“Akira-kun is cold, right?” Shirogane replies in a singsong voice.
His first instinct is to swear, kick the Shin out of the bed and then maybe out of the room too - not that physical barriers make any difference, but it would make him feel better.
In the end, though, he just sighs dramatically and closes his eyes. “You better not do anything weird,” he warns mid-yawn, then makes a face as a stray strand of long white hair tickles his nose. He’s getting sleepy already, and thoughts of the miserable winter months approaching have been chased from his mind.
If Shirogane will chase away the cold, he guesses he can deal with it. Just for now.
silverymare Prompt: FFIX, Vivi.
Vivi didn't know a whole lot about himself, but he did know one incredibly important thing: That he was very, very cute. And that this was more powerful than Meteor.
"I just bought you that nice new staff," Zidane bargained. The thief had all the money, since it became apparent early on that he'd wind up with all the money anyway and they might as well deprive him of his fun by giving it to him first. "And that magic amulet."
A pair of bright eyes stared up at the thief from underneath the wide-brimmed hat.
Zidane's tail swished once in annoyance. "I know it's not much, but I don't think you're understanding how delicate the budget is here!"
The eyes grew slightly larger.
"We're on important business! We don't have cash to spare for that sort of thing. What if we have to bribe our way past some guard, or Steiner breaks his armour again?"
Vivi stared.
Zidane crumpled. "Fine! But you can explain to Dagger why we can't afford that emerald she's been after!"
The bright eyes creased into happy crescents as the thief forked over the money, and handed Vivi a triple-scoop cone of chocolate ice-cream.
"You better just eat it before Quina sees."
Tags:
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2008-12-28 06:27 am (UTC)ALSO. "He's gloomy and anti-social and really really short." STOP IIIT. ;_; / Hee! *_*
Kirihara, must mention him. He's adorable. ♥
I am also insanely in love with: Night had fallen in the middle of the day. RYOMA HAS NO CONSIDERATION. Awww, the snarky brat. *_*
The ending was a bit too romantic for me. I prefer the vague, not-so-public display thingies, BUT I CAN APPRECIATE THE SHINY. They're in a world of their own. sjdhgjsdghskdg Tezuka wearing Greek clothing? My heart. Eeeee.
Just wished I knew more about Greek Mythology to better appreciate things. :< Though I'll refrain from making any swan comments-- Uh.
no subject
Date: 2008-12-28 06:40 am (UTC)Swan? @_@ My knowledge of Greek mythology isn't that comprehensive either - I had to consult wikipedia quite a bit to flesh it out.
You'll get your tragedy elsewhere, don't worry about that. ;)
no subject
Date: 2008-12-28 07:36 am (UTC)I'M STILL TRYING TO THINK OF A PROMPT. :| It's such hard work. >:
no subject
Date: 2008-12-28 09:54 am (UTC)You don't have to prompt, you know. ;) (especially given that you've been at the very least indirectly responsible for half of my writing output this year). I'm just slightly surprised you don't have one. Naruto really has consumed your soul. :(
no subject
Date: 2008-12-28 10:56 am (UTC)Off to nosebleed in peace, brb.
no subject
Date: 2008-12-28 12:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-28 03:41 pm (UTC)*runs-to-request-more-porn-in-his/her-name-fufufufufufu*
no subject
Date: 2008-12-30 09:41 am (UTC)I am in agreement over the need for more FFIX fanworks. Why must VII and VIII hog all the love?
no subject
Date: 2008-12-28 10:15 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-30 10:11 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-29 06:14 am (UTC)