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Entry tags:
Monthly word count - december
TOTAL: 8 799 words.
POSTED: nop!
IN PROGRESS
-naruto: cherry wine chapter 6 (4 948 words)
-bleach: pack ABO (535 words)
-bleach: suburban ot4 (3 316 words)
also posted but written earlier : cherry wine : days on a wire chapter 5
... well, christmas time is always busy. :X
Teasers!
--
naruto ABO
--
"Shame on you, Madara-dono, not keeping your sweet brother company."
Madara harrumphed, arms crossed with a touch of deliberately overdone defensiveness -- then met Izuna's eyes, and...
Well, that was an opening. "You're right, shameful of me," he agreed, and leaned over the tea set to hook his brother by the neck and haul him close, forcing Izuna to hop, bent in two, over priceless old cups, and crumple against his side.
When his brother laughed again it was more real, he thought. Madara tucked him against his flank, sleeve draped over his shoulders, and made sure it looked like light-hearted teasing and nothing else.
"There, fixed."
"Smothering me in your armpit is not fixing it!" Izuna protested, sitting up straighter, but then found a comfortable spot and leaned into him again, even as he felt around his head and made faces. "Niisan, my hair."
Madara gave him a smug look. "It looks better like that."
"It looks like yours like that, and that's not a compliment!"
"Not to worry, Izuna-sama," Toyotomi Senior laughed. "You still need a little more volume before it gets that far."
Madara harrumphed. "This sounds like some people being unappreciative of my hair."
"We wouldn't dare."
"It might eat us if we did."
Izuna cackled in his hand, body loosening a little more. Madara straightened up, arching both eyebrows and smirking toothily, mostly because it amused his brother, though the half-coy half-challenging look on the girl probably ought to be encouraged if he didn't want to be dragged down into somber political talk all over again.
"Your name, dinner-to-be?"
She dropped into a low seated bow, made it cheeky somehow. "Taketori Hanao, Madara-sama. And Madara-sama's hair. This one hopes she will not impede your digestion with too many hairpins."
--
bleach ABO
--
"Yeah, I -- hm. I wonder if you could wear my shinigami kimono?" Grimmjow must make a face because Kurosaki instantly continues; "the underlayer, not the black stuff? Just -- just the underlayer."
... That look on Kurosaki's face. All flushed and dazed. Over imagining him in some cloth? He's naked and wet right now. He's not sure if it's more flattering or hilarious.
"... Or I could ask Urahara," Grimmjow says, like he's seriously thinking about it. "He's got to have some--"
"I will tear them off with my teeth." Kurosaki's eyes are a bit wild, a bit like he's laughing but in a pretty despairing way. He's already fighting the knot of his belt. "Don't do that to me, please, I will beg."
Grimmjow's lips twitch. "Hmm? Will you now? That's interesting..."
Kurosaki gives him a betrayed glare, even though his mouth tries to smile. "You fucker. You're lucky you're so hot." He drops his mess of a kimono top on the floor, starts pulling the white underlayer free from his hakama. "Blackmailing me with your, your wiles--"
Kurosaki cracks up. Grimmjow follows him. It's such a stupid moment, exhaustion and the fallout of adrenaline and a shit-ton of happy heat hormones.
"Oh yeah, that's me," he manages to reply a few seconds too late, wheezing, even as Kurosaki pushes close to drape his shirt on him. "I'm really... wily."
Is he surprised when they end up kissing? Not really. Kurosaki's hands are on his bare shoulders, pretending to hold the white kimono in place but really just grabbing at him. Grimmjow's hands are slipping in the slits at his hips under the belt, exposing skin now that the white cotton is gone. Surely there's time for a quickie. Yeah.
"Boss," Yylfordt interrupts. "Boss, that shinigami is downstairs."
--
suburban ot4
--
They manage to get through two thirds of the bento box while chatting about Nel's adventures in translating soapland brochures into dual German and Spanish before they get accosted by his students again.
"Ooh Spanish!" "Do you speak Spanish? That's a little cool. French is better though. It's deluxe." "Where's Spain again?" "Are you from Spain?" "Are you half?"
Ichigo is so damn glad the soapland part was implied thanks to previous awareness and not said out loud. They'd go straight from 'ohh, a porno bathhouse!' in tones of wisdom imparted to 'how do you say "happy ending" in French' or something like that. His boys are only twelve but everything that grosses them out is immediately fascinating and hilarious, especially if it pisses off the adults.
"Stop!" Nel orders, hand raised palm up. The surprise actually makes them quiet down. She points. "Yes, question one!"
"Are you half Spanish!"
"No! I'm half German! I speak Spanish because I had friends who were half-hispanic! Next, question two!"
"Me, me! Do you speak French?!"
"No! My boyfriend does! But mostly bad words! It sounds super good even when he's being really rude!"
"Oooh, your boyfriend's French, why haven't you married him!"
"He's not French actually! He's German-French-Japanese-Brazilian! So that makes the baby how many percent Japanese...?"
"Seventy-three percent?" "Fourteen!" "A half and half?" "Not a lot." "Thirty percent?"
"It's three eighths, just as many eighths as German, which makes -- how much, Ichigo?"
Betrayed, he splutters. "Like I know! I don't do maths! Ugh." His phone does though. "Thirty-seven point five percent. That was a trick question, I bet you didn't know either."
"I knew in Portuguese," she replies sagely. Ichigo doesn't even think twice before he rubs her skull with his knuckles.
Nao saves the bento box somehow. Nobody saves Ichigo from Nelliel's retaliatory kick to his knee.
--
"No suffixes, huh? It's good to be young," Sakakibara-sensei, sitting by the open window, comments with avuncular, amused disapproval.
Ugh. Yeah, yeah, he knows, he's gonna hear about that for a month. Does Ichigo get to reach his desk before everybody and their cow makes a comment on his suspicious closeness with his guest, though? Looks like not. "She calls my wife Hime-chan, so hey, I don't mind too much. It was either my first name or something ridiculous like Strawberry in Spanish."
POSTED: nop!
IN PROGRESS
-naruto: cherry wine chapter 6 (4 948 words)
-bleach: pack ABO (535 words)
-bleach: suburban ot4 (3 316 words)
also posted but written earlier : cherry wine : days on a wire chapter 5
... well, christmas time is always busy. :X
Teasers!
--
naruto ABO
--
"Shame on you, Madara-dono, not keeping your sweet brother company."
Madara harrumphed, arms crossed with a touch of deliberately overdone defensiveness -- then met Izuna's eyes, and...
Well, that was an opening. "You're right, shameful of me," he agreed, and leaned over the tea set to hook his brother by the neck and haul him close, forcing Izuna to hop, bent in two, over priceless old cups, and crumple against his side.
When his brother laughed again it was more real, he thought. Madara tucked him against his flank, sleeve draped over his shoulders, and made sure it looked like light-hearted teasing and nothing else.
"There, fixed."
"Smothering me in your armpit is not fixing it!" Izuna protested, sitting up straighter, but then found a comfortable spot and leaned into him again, even as he felt around his head and made faces. "Niisan, my hair."
Madara gave him a smug look. "It looks better like that."
"It looks like yours like that, and that's not a compliment!"
"Not to worry, Izuna-sama," Toyotomi Senior laughed. "You still need a little more volume before it gets that far."
Madara harrumphed. "This sounds like some people being unappreciative of my hair."
"We wouldn't dare."
"It might eat us if we did."
Izuna cackled in his hand, body loosening a little more. Madara straightened up, arching both eyebrows and smirking toothily, mostly because it amused his brother, though the half-coy half-challenging look on the girl probably ought to be encouraged if he didn't want to be dragged down into somber political talk all over again.
"Your name, dinner-to-be?"
She dropped into a low seated bow, made it cheeky somehow. "Taketori Hanao, Madara-sama. And Madara-sama's hair. This one hopes she will not impede your digestion with too many hairpins."
--
bleach ABO
--
"Yeah, I -- hm. I wonder if you could wear my shinigami kimono?" Grimmjow must make a face because Kurosaki instantly continues; "the underlayer, not the black stuff? Just -- just the underlayer."
... That look on Kurosaki's face. All flushed and dazed. Over imagining him in some cloth? He's naked and wet right now. He's not sure if it's more flattering or hilarious.
"... Or I could ask Urahara," Grimmjow says, like he's seriously thinking about it. "He's got to have some--"
"I will tear them off with my teeth." Kurosaki's eyes are a bit wild, a bit like he's laughing but in a pretty despairing way. He's already fighting the knot of his belt. "Don't do that to me, please, I will beg."
Grimmjow's lips twitch. "Hmm? Will you now? That's interesting..."
Kurosaki gives him a betrayed glare, even though his mouth tries to smile. "You fucker. You're lucky you're so hot." He drops his mess of a kimono top on the floor, starts pulling the white underlayer free from his hakama. "Blackmailing me with your, your wiles--"
Kurosaki cracks up. Grimmjow follows him. It's such a stupid moment, exhaustion and the fallout of adrenaline and a shit-ton of happy heat hormones.
"Oh yeah, that's me," he manages to reply a few seconds too late, wheezing, even as Kurosaki pushes close to drape his shirt on him. "I'm really... wily."
Is he surprised when they end up kissing? Not really. Kurosaki's hands are on his bare shoulders, pretending to hold the white kimono in place but really just grabbing at him. Grimmjow's hands are slipping in the slits at his hips under the belt, exposing skin now that the white cotton is gone. Surely there's time for a quickie. Yeah.
"Boss," Yylfordt interrupts. "Boss, that shinigami is downstairs."
--
suburban ot4
--
They manage to get through two thirds of the bento box while chatting about Nel's adventures in translating soapland brochures into dual German and Spanish before they get accosted by his students again.
"Ooh Spanish!" "Do you speak Spanish? That's a little cool. French is better though. It's deluxe." "Where's Spain again?" "Are you from Spain?" "Are you half?"
Ichigo is so damn glad the soapland part was implied thanks to previous awareness and not said out loud. They'd go straight from 'ohh, a porno bathhouse!' in tones of wisdom imparted to 'how do you say "happy ending" in French' or something like that. His boys are only twelve but everything that grosses them out is immediately fascinating and hilarious, especially if it pisses off the adults.
"Stop!" Nel orders, hand raised palm up. The surprise actually makes them quiet down. She points. "Yes, question one!"
"Are you half Spanish!"
"No! I'm half German! I speak Spanish because I had friends who were half-hispanic! Next, question two!"
"Me, me! Do you speak French?!"
"No! My boyfriend does! But mostly bad words! It sounds super good even when he's being really rude!"
"Oooh, your boyfriend's French, why haven't you married him!"
"He's not French actually! He's German-French-Japanese-Brazilian! So that makes the baby how many percent Japanese...?"
"Seventy-three percent?" "Fourteen!" "A half and half?" "Not a lot." "Thirty percent?"
"It's three eighths, just as many eighths as German, which makes -- how much, Ichigo?"
Betrayed, he splutters. "Like I know! I don't do maths! Ugh." His phone does though. "Thirty-seven point five percent. That was a trick question, I bet you didn't know either."
"I knew in Portuguese," she replies sagely. Ichigo doesn't even think twice before he rubs her skull with his knuckles.
Nao saves the bento box somehow. Nobody saves Ichigo from Nelliel's retaliatory kick to his knee.
--
"No suffixes, huh? It's good to be young," Sakakibara-sensei, sitting by the open window, comments with avuncular, amused disapproval.
Ugh. Yeah, yeah, he knows, he's gonna hear about that for a month. Does Ichigo get to reach his desk before everybody and their cow makes a comment on his suspicious closeness with his guest, though? Looks like not. "She calls my wife Hime-chan, so hey, I don't mind too much. It was either my first name or something ridiculous like Strawberry in Spanish."