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rallamajoopGoing by the results of that poll so far, most of you want me writing holic fic (well, I did know that one), and almost everyone wants me writing slash (XD colour me not surprised at all. But not at all unwilling to comply on either account.) More votes for Kingdom Hearts than I would have expected, given I haven’t written for that in almost a year and had sort of mixed enthusiasm for the little I ever did write in that fandom in the first place – but maybe that’s just telling me that that we all just love Kingdom Hearts anyway (And as it should be!). And maybe I could dredge out that last unfinished KH fic of mine and do something with it at some stage…
Not much consensus on length of fic, though lots of people do seem to want me to post more in progress fic or random blather about writing which does make me wonder how many of you realise just how much blather you might be giving me permission for here. And isn’t that convenient when I had another instance of the good old unfished fic meme just about ready to go. =D
So, on to the actual subject here – this would be the post for excepts from the Guilty Gear fic I’ve got in progress which I promised not long ago. This is not quite the complete list of everything I’ve started and not yet finished – just the ones with the better chances of being finished in the near future for this post. As for which do get finished and in what order – well, I’m generally easily swayed one way or the other if there’s something people would particularly like to see complete.
1. Sol, Ky and I-no - more crusades fic based on those drama CDs
Premise: You know those ideas you have which are fun to play with, but which you don’t seriously intend to do anything with because they seem just a little too obvious? Then suddenly you find them leaping on you out of the blue and demanding to be written, and you’ve got three pages down before you know what’s going on?
No? Well, anyway – this is one of those. More specifically, this is based on the premise that, somewhere between the events of the Side Red/Side Black Drama CD and Sol going permanently AWOL, he and Ky happen to run into I-no again, and Sol catches this nasty little hint about what actually happened back at the battle of Rome. Only he goes on to draw all the wrong conclusions. Probably will need to be labelled ‘Some implied Sol/Ky’, but mostly just because I-no has a dirty mind.
Current state: Mostly written. Still needs a hell of a lot of editing to get it into shape though.
“What the fuck did you do to him?!” Sol was yelling at her almost before they’d hit the ground.
“What’s the matter, jealous?” I-no sneered, scarcely less sharp even though she was almost gasping for breath. “Forcing yourself on a woman just to make such ill-mannered demands…”
“Cut the crap,” Sol growled, “He didn’t have any idea who you were.”
“His memory must be half-baked. Perhaps he’s taken too many hits to the head? It was most rude of him to forget me, you’d think I’d made more of an impression.”
When Sol slammed her back against the ground again, this time she didn’t even flinch.
“Don’t fuck with me. He knows half his army by name, and he forgets you?”
“ ‘I took his memory away,’ is that what you want to hear?” I-no suggested, her voice low and dangerous. “Went in and wiped myself away?”
“Why you…”
“Isn’t it just ‘why’ you want to ask me? Why I couldn’t stand the thought of that precious little boy scout remembering my name?”
“What else did you take?” Sol growled, struggling with the urge to rip off her head right there and to hell with the details – whatever the reason, she deserved it. “Spit it out or…”
I-no actually laughed at him, weakly, but still far too loud for comfort. “You’re wondering, aren’t you?” she wheezed. “What I did to your boytoy that was so terrible I couldn’t let him remember?”
She was messing with him, he should have known, but for several terrible moments, Sol saw red.
(TBC)
2. Ky and Sol (or Ky and *not* Sol, more to the point) - still more crusades based fic
Premise: In a weird way, I think this is like me trying to rewrite Never Was, only for Guilty Gear. It’s gen fic, but mostly just in the way, say, the drama CDs are gen. Or most of the rest of the series, for that matter.
Current state: The first draft is just about finished, but it still needs a fair bit of editing before it’s fit to subject anyone else to.
A cold breeze blowing over the battlefield had begun to dissipate the stench of burnt flesh and Gear blood by the time the last of the wounded men and bodies were being carried back into the airship. A thin trickle of blood was running down Ky’s arm inside his sleeve, sticky and irritating, but it would be hours before anyone from the medical division would have time to waste applying more than the roughest field dressing to such a minor wound. There was still nearly an hour left before sunset, but the sinking sun added something final to the scene. It was high time their attention was turned away from this place.
“How long until the enemy reinforcements will reach us?” Ky asked aloud.
The tactical division officer standing by his side answered without so much as a glance at the clipboard in his hands. “Ten minutes at most. We’ve confirmed at least a hundred Gear units, the majority in the large classes.”
“And the casualty report for our own troops?”
“The physical and magical divisions both reported heavy casualties. All survivors are under the care of the medical division now. Final head counts are still underway, however, we don’t believe more than fifteen men will remain unaccounted for…” the man trailed off uncertainly.
“Is there something else that bears reporting?” Ky prompted him.
“Sir…” the officer’s voice shook slightly. “Sol-sama is also unaccounted for…”
Ky managed not to flinch outwardly, although preventing himself from grinding his jaw at the news was beyond him. “Were any of the assaulting force unaccounted for?”
“No sir,” the officer replied quickly, fumbling with his clipboard, glad to have been given a question he could answer rather than be pressed as to just how his division had managed to lose the single most unmistakable soldier in their battalion. “A small contingent attempted to escape along the ridge, but were overtaken by our own men before they could retreat. It is possible some of the smaller classed Gears may have retreated into the forest, however, it was not considered…”
“And the final sweep of all corners of the battlefield has been completed?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then we will complete our withdrawal immediately. Inform the airship’s crew we have five minutes to make it back into the air.”
“But… sir!” the officer protested helplessly, then suddenly found himself to be the subject of a piercingly cold blue gaze.
“Sol is one man. To expect the entire battalion to be put at risk on his account is inexcusable. Have we any other reason for further delay?”
“N… no sir!” the officer stammered. “Right away, sir!” With that he turned tail and fled back into the airship.
Ky looked towards the battlefield one last time. The only movement remaining was where the wind was disturbing the grass, even the few fires which had been scattered among the debris had burnt themselves out. The twisted shapes of the remaining Gear bodies in nearby view were uniformly cold and lifeless. There was nothing else in view worth remaining here for.
Ky turned and made himself walk the whole way up the ramp to the airship without another backward glance.
(TBC)
3. The usual suspects, but actually set somewhere post GGXX for a change
Premise: This is the one where, by means which I may or may not get around to explaining in detail, the IPF actually succeeds in capturing Sol alive for once. Just not for very long. Surprisingly, this may turn into the one with the most Sol/Ky in it out of this batch so far.
Current state: The excerpt below is actually everything written so far. I have the rest of it planned out in reasonable detail though, so it shouldn’t take too long to finish.
Alarms were going off all over the building by the time Sol rounded the first corner. The corridors would be choked with guards within minutes, assuming they hired people around here with the sense to do more than stand around looking too shocked to figure out where they were supposed to go during a jailbreak. What the hell, bring them on. Sol didn’t intend to stop for anyone between here and the exit.
Around the next corner a man in a uniform nearly ran straight into his chest. The officer stopped himself just in time, looked up at Sol and stared stupidly as some brand of recognition dawned, leaving the perfect opening for that same escaping criminal to slug him under the chin and send him sprawling. It would have been laughable if it wasn’t so pathetic.
There was another T junction at the end of that corridor, and down the way to his left four more uniformed officers were running towards him – these ones at least possessing of enough sense to remember which ends of their weapons they were supposed to hold on to. One good blast of fire had them diving madly left and right to get out of his way. Sol charged on through their midst only to find himself at yet another branch in the corridor – and not even so much as one helpful sign on any of the walls he’d passed to say ‘Nearest Exit This Way.’
What had they, built this place like some kind of fucking maze? It was tempting just to pick a wall, bash his way through and keep going – that’d have to get him out one way or another. But – dammit – he did have one stop to make before he busted out of here. All this fighting – even against these sorry louts – was making his fingers itch for the feel of a hilt he should have had gripped in them. Like hell he was leaving the best weapon he’d ever owned behind.
Of course, finding it in this labyrinth would be it’s whole own kind of fun.
Sol grabbed the nearest half-stunned man, lying against a wall, and lifted him by the front of his shirt until he could stare directly into his face. “Oi,” he said, even as the man struggled helplessly to get free, “the Fuuenken – where’ve they hidden it?”
“The… wh…?” the man stuttered.
“My sword, where is it?” Sol snarled at him, tightening his grip on the man’s shirt so that smoke began to waft through his fingers.
“No! It’s… the… the dangerous evidence room!” stammered his captive, raising an arm to point. “It’s down that way! And around and down…”
“Hm?” murmured Sol, glaring at him.
“It is, I swear! Oh god, please just put me down…”
Sol dropped him back on the floor. Unlikely he’d have the sense to make up any lie if he was blabbering like that. He took off in the indicated direction.
(TBC)
4. Ky and Millia - Yes, actual GG fic from me without Sol.
Premise: No, really! (though it probably isn’t a good idea to get used to this just yet >.>) The idea was one of those really random gap-fillers that came from me noticing that Millia’s PWAB profile in GGXX tells us she’s working with the IPF to dismantle the Assassin’s Guild in exchange for her acquittal. However, going through some through some scripts and quotes from earlier games, I notice Ky offers her pretty much the exact same thing a couple of times in GGX and before, but at the time she turns him down. So, something must have changed in the few weeks or months between those two games – and it wasn’t actually too hard to imagine what.
Current state: Mostly written, still needs an ending before the first draft is done.
Millia Rage was punctual almost to the second when she arrived for their appointment. Even with her hair worn short she cut a stunning figure, a deceptive beauty which betrayed little of her long held former occupation. Ky had always observed that there had been an elegance to her every movement that was as natural as it was cold.
She accepted his offer of tea and seated herself across his desk, one long leg crossed over the other. She must have been uncomfortable, after so many years of living in the shadows, to find herself entering central office of the International Police Force itself by the front door, but her countenance betrayed nothing of it. But then, the beginning of a process to reacclimatize herself to life in the daylight was what this meeting was all about.
“To think I would ever find myself here, of all places,” she said, a touch of wistfulness in her voice. “We used to speak of International Police with such scorn back in the guild.”
Ky took no insult from her words. “Whatever conflicts might lie in the past… I am sure that if you still retained any sympathy for the objectives of your former organisation, you would not be here at all.”
“That is true,” said Millia. Her voice retained now only the slightest hint of her native Russian accent, after so many years of living so far abroad at the Assassin’s Guild. Ky wondered just how long it might have been since she’d last seen her native country, whether that might be where she planned to return once this business was finally put to rest.
“Besides,” she went on, “by providing what help I can give, my other sins may be forgiven in the eyes of the law.”
“You’ll find the International Police to be more sympathetic to your plight than you might imagine,” said Ky, his manner reassuring. “Even once you were old enough to appreciate the true reprehensible nature of the Guild, to leave an organisation which had raised and supported you for so long must have taken great courage.”
“I’m not sure I deserve so much commendation on that account. We were always taught to be heartless creatures. I fear I will never be free of the Guild as long as it survives Any aid I can give you towards its dissolution is ultimately to my own benefit.”
(TBC)
5. The one that will probably have to be called 'The Story of Pants on a Stick'
Premise: So hey, why just come up with crack theories on the origin of new Overture characters when I could write entire fic based on them? >< >< >< This is basically crack fic, though I think it’s halfway trying to morph into fluff, which is pretty scary on its own.
Note to self: Attempting to tell![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
velithya that you’re not going to write something will only result in the most embarrassing kind of personal reverse psychology possible. I AM BLAMING YOU FOR EVERY WORD OF THIS, YOU HEAR?
Current state: Probably about half done? I’m going to have to get it finished before the game actually comes out though, because this kind of crack fic isn’t going to be nearly as much fun once we all know how it really happened. >.>
Most people would probably think that a royal flag twirling demonstration would be a fairly safe thing to show an impressionable young well-he-looks-about-seven-now-to-me-year old. Most people would have thought a miniature flag would be a safe sort of present for growing boy (‘miniature’ meaning ‘only slightly taller than he was’, but Ky had had a very real certainty to his voice when he’d said, ‘he’ll grow into it’). But what most people would be forgetting was that the boy in question was a half-Gear who was currently growing and learning at the rate of a snowball accelerating downhill.
Sin thought the flag was the best present ever, which only made the situation all the more awkward. Ky really didn’t want to take it off him – he thought it a very good thing to encourage a bit of youthful patriotism (to say nothing of the tantrum Sin would have thrown had anyone tried to separate him from it now). However, the way Sin kept waving the thing around was becoming a bit of a worry, particularly since his attempts at mimicking the flag twirlers usually ended only when he’d whacked himself in the face.
“It doesn’t seem to put him off for long, no matter how hard he hits himself,” Ky told Sol on his next visit, having already gone through a couple of weeks of exasperation on the subject. “I’ve had to stuff padding around both ends just to stop him doing himself an injury.”
Sol watched Sin waving his flag around with the expression of a man vaguely wondering whether this behaviour could be blamed on the genetic contribution of the other parent. “Don’t you have people to do that stuff for you now?”
“Sol, the day you catch me hiring a royal padding stuffer is the day I want you to personally storm this country and put me out of my misery.”
“Yeah, whatever,” said Sol. “C’mon kid, let’s…”
All three of them winced as Sin whacked himself in the back of the kneecaps yet again.
“He’s bound to grow out of it before long,” said Ky hopefully.
“Bound to,” Sol agreed.
*
Sin did not grow out of it in the first couple of weeks of that particular trip with Sol, though his wild swinging did improve enough for him to graduate from hitting himself with it, on to him hitting everyone else in the vicinity.
“Knock it the fuck off!” Sol snapped at him, after being hit in the same place on the lower leg for the third time that morning.
“The what?” said Sin.
“Stop it,” Sol clarified.
Sin obediently stopped it. After five minutes, he decided ‘stop it’ had to have run out already, and started all over again.
*
When Sol next got back to the castle, there was nothing much left for him or Ky to do but give in to the inevitable.
“I’m going to find someone to give you proper flag twirling lessons,” Ky told Sin.
“Like the men with the big flags?” asked Sin, whole face lighting up.
“Like the men with the big flags,” Ky repeated.
“Whee!” Sin cried happily, swinging his beloved flag into the leg of Ky’s desk so hard that everything sitting on it rattled.
“Sin!” Ky warned, “No more waving that around inside the castle, do you understand? You’re going to break something if you don’t stop it!”
Sol was napping on a chair when he heard the sound of Sin stampeding past, cheerfully calling out “The fuck off!” as he ran by on route to the flag-sanctified zone of he outer gardens.
Oh fu… fudge! Sol thought. The odds Ky hadn’t heard that …
“…Sol?” called a far-too-familiar voice from Ky’s office.
…were zero. And that would be the sound that heralded yet another visit to the castle spent sleeping on the couch.
(TBC XD;)
In total (counting the rest of these five and those other couple that didn't make this post), there are more than 12,000 words of unfinished GG fic in that folder at the moment. And that's not counting Ghost Stories, or those doujinshi I'm supposed to be working on, or anything else I've got planned. Anyone still wondering why I'm not starting anything new for NaNo this year? ^^;;;
Not much consensus on length of fic, though lots of people do seem to want me to post more in progress fic or random blather about writing which does make me wonder how many of you realise just how much blather you might be giving me permission for here. And isn’t that convenient when I had another instance of the good old unfished fic meme just about ready to go. =D
So, on to the actual subject here – this would be the post for excepts from the Guilty Gear fic I’ve got in progress which I promised not long ago. This is not quite the complete list of everything I’ve started and not yet finished – just the ones with the better chances of being finished in the near future for this post. As for which do get finished and in what order – well, I’m generally easily swayed one way or the other if there’s something people would particularly like to see complete.
1. Sol, Ky and I-no - more crusades fic based on those drama CDs
Premise: You know those ideas you have which are fun to play with, but which you don’t seriously intend to do anything with because they seem just a little too obvious? Then suddenly you find them leaping on you out of the blue and demanding to be written, and you’ve got three pages down before you know what’s going on?
No? Well, anyway – this is one of those. More specifically, this is based on the premise that, somewhere between the events of the Side Red/Side Black Drama CD and Sol going permanently AWOL, he and Ky happen to run into I-no again, and Sol catches this nasty little hint about what actually happened back at the battle of Rome. Only he goes on to draw all the wrong conclusions. Probably will need to be labelled ‘Some implied Sol/Ky’, but mostly just because I-no has a dirty mind.
Current state: Mostly written. Still needs a hell of a lot of editing to get it into shape though.
“What the fuck did you do to him?!” Sol was yelling at her almost before they’d hit the ground.
“What’s the matter, jealous?” I-no sneered, scarcely less sharp even though she was almost gasping for breath. “Forcing yourself on a woman just to make such ill-mannered demands…”
“Cut the crap,” Sol growled, “He didn’t have any idea who you were.”
“His memory must be half-baked. Perhaps he’s taken too many hits to the head? It was most rude of him to forget me, you’d think I’d made more of an impression.”
When Sol slammed her back against the ground again, this time she didn’t even flinch.
“Don’t fuck with me. He knows half his army by name, and he forgets you?”
“ ‘I took his memory away,’ is that what you want to hear?” I-no suggested, her voice low and dangerous. “Went in and wiped myself away?”
“Why you…”
“Isn’t it just ‘why’ you want to ask me? Why I couldn’t stand the thought of that precious little boy scout remembering my name?”
“What else did you take?” Sol growled, struggling with the urge to rip off her head right there and to hell with the details – whatever the reason, she deserved it. “Spit it out or…”
I-no actually laughed at him, weakly, but still far too loud for comfort. “You’re wondering, aren’t you?” she wheezed. “What I did to your boytoy that was so terrible I couldn’t let him remember?”
She was messing with him, he should have known, but for several terrible moments, Sol saw red.
(TBC)
2. Ky and Sol (or Ky and *not* Sol, more to the point) - still more crusades based fic
Premise: In a weird way, I think this is like me trying to rewrite Never Was, only for Guilty Gear. It’s gen fic, but mostly just in the way, say, the drama CDs are gen. Or most of the rest of the series, for that matter.
Current state: The first draft is just about finished, but it still needs a fair bit of editing before it’s fit to subject anyone else to.
A cold breeze blowing over the battlefield had begun to dissipate the stench of burnt flesh and Gear blood by the time the last of the wounded men and bodies were being carried back into the airship. A thin trickle of blood was running down Ky’s arm inside his sleeve, sticky and irritating, but it would be hours before anyone from the medical division would have time to waste applying more than the roughest field dressing to such a minor wound. There was still nearly an hour left before sunset, but the sinking sun added something final to the scene. It was high time their attention was turned away from this place.
“How long until the enemy reinforcements will reach us?” Ky asked aloud.
The tactical division officer standing by his side answered without so much as a glance at the clipboard in his hands. “Ten minutes at most. We’ve confirmed at least a hundred Gear units, the majority in the large classes.”
“And the casualty report for our own troops?”
“The physical and magical divisions both reported heavy casualties. All survivors are under the care of the medical division now. Final head counts are still underway, however, we don’t believe more than fifteen men will remain unaccounted for…” the man trailed off uncertainly.
“Is there something else that bears reporting?” Ky prompted him.
“Sir…” the officer’s voice shook slightly. “Sol-sama is also unaccounted for…”
Ky managed not to flinch outwardly, although preventing himself from grinding his jaw at the news was beyond him. “Were any of the assaulting force unaccounted for?”
“No sir,” the officer replied quickly, fumbling with his clipboard, glad to have been given a question he could answer rather than be pressed as to just how his division had managed to lose the single most unmistakable soldier in their battalion. “A small contingent attempted to escape along the ridge, but were overtaken by our own men before they could retreat. It is possible some of the smaller classed Gears may have retreated into the forest, however, it was not considered…”
“And the final sweep of all corners of the battlefield has been completed?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then we will complete our withdrawal immediately. Inform the airship’s crew we have five minutes to make it back into the air.”
“But… sir!” the officer protested helplessly, then suddenly found himself to be the subject of a piercingly cold blue gaze.
“Sol is one man. To expect the entire battalion to be put at risk on his account is inexcusable. Have we any other reason for further delay?”
“N… no sir!” the officer stammered. “Right away, sir!” With that he turned tail and fled back into the airship.
Ky looked towards the battlefield one last time. The only movement remaining was where the wind was disturbing the grass, even the few fires which had been scattered among the debris had burnt themselves out. The twisted shapes of the remaining Gear bodies in nearby view were uniformly cold and lifeless. There was nothing else in view worth remaining here for.
Ky turned and made himself walk the whole way up the ramp to the airship without another backward glance.
(TBC)
3. The usual suspects, but actually set somewhere post GGXX for a change
Premise: This is the one where, by means which I may or may not get around to explaining in detail, the IPF actually succeeds in capturing Sol alive for once. Just not for very long. Surprisingly, this may turn into the one with the most Sol/Ky in it out of this batch so far.
Current state: The excerpt below is actually everything written so far. I have the rest of it planned out in reasonable detail though, so it shouldn’t take too long to finish.
Alarms were going off all over the building by the time Sol rounded the first corner. The corridors would be choked with guards within minutes, assuming they hired people around here with the sense to do more than stand around looking too shocked to figure out where they were supposed to go during a jailbreak. What the hell, bring them on. Sol didn’t intend to stop for anyone between here and the exit.
Around the next corner a man in a uniform nearly ran straight into his chest. The officer stopped himself just in time, looked up at Sol and stared stupidly as some brand of recognition dawned, leaving the perfect opening for that same escaping criminal to slug him under the chin and send him sprawling. It would have been laughable if it wasn’t so pathetic.
There was another T junction at the end of that corridor, and down the way to his left four more uniformed officers were running towards him – these ones at least possessing of enough sense to remember which ends of their weapons they were supposed to hold on to. One good blast of fire had them diving madly left and right to get out of his way. Sol charged on through their midst only to find himself at yet another branch in the corridor – and not even so much as one helpful sign on any of the walls he’d passed to say ‘Nearest Exit This Way.’
What had they, built this place like some kind of fucking maze? It was tempting just to pick a wall, bash his way through and keep going – that’d have to get him out one way or another. But – dammit – he did have one stop to make before he busted out of here. All this fighting – even against these sorry louts – was making his fingers itch for the feel of a hilt he should have had gripped in them. Like hell he was leaving the best weapon he’d ever owned behind.
Of course, finding it in this labyrinth would be it’s whole own kind of fun.
Sol grabbed the nearest half-stunned man, lying against a wall, and lifted him by the front of his shirt until he could stare directly into his face. “Oi,” he said, even as the man struggled helplessly to get free, “the Fuuenken – where’ve they hidden it?”
“The… wh…?” the man stuttered.
“My sword, where is it?” Sol snarled at him, tightening his grip on the man’s shirt so that smoke began to waft through his fingers.
“No! It’s… the… the dangerous evidence room!” stammered his captive, raising an arm to point. “It’s down that way! And around and down…”
“Hm?” murmured Sol, glaring at him.
“It is, I swear! Oh god, please just put me down…”
Sol dropped him back on the floor. Unlikely he’d have the sense to make up any lie if he was blabbering like that. He took off in the indicated direction.
(TBC)
4. Ky and Millia - Yes, actual GG fic from me without Sol.
Premise: No, really! (though it probably isn’t a good idea to get used to this just yet >.>) The idea was one of those really random gap-fillers that came from me noticing that Millia’s PWAB profile in GGXX tells us she’s working with the IPF to dismantle the Assassin’s Guild in exchange for her acquittal. However, going through some through some scripts and quotes from earlier games, I notice Ky offers her pretty much the exact same thing a couple of times in GGX and before, but at the time she turns him down. So, something must have changed in the few weeks or months between those two games – and it wasn’t actually too hard to imagine what.
Current state: Mostly written, still needs an ending before the first draft is done.
Millia Rage was punctual almost to the second when she arrived for their appointment. Even with her hair worn short she cut a stunning figure, a deceptive beauty which betrayed little of her long held former occupation. Ky had always observed that there had been an elegance to her every movement that was as natural as it was cold.
She accepted his offer of tea and seated herself across his desk, one long leg crossed over the other. She must have been uncomfortable, after so many years of living in the shadows, to find herself entering central office of the International Police Force itself by the front door, but her countenance betrayed nothing of it. But then, the beginning of a process to reacclimatize herself to life in the daylight was what this meeting was all about.
“To think I would ever find myself here, of all places,” she said, a touch of wistfulness in her voice. “We used to speak of International Police with such scorn back in the guild.”
Ky took no insult from her words. “Whatever conflicts might lie in the past… I am sure that if you still retained any sympathy for the objectives of your former organisation, you would not be here at all.”
“That is true,” said Millia. Her voice retained now only the slightest hint of her native Russian accent, after so many years of living so far abroad at the Assassin’s Guild. Ky wondered just how long it might have been since she’d last seen her native country, whether that might be where she planned to return once this business was finally put to rest.
“Besides,” she went on, “by providing what help I can give, my other sins may be forgiven in the eyes of the law.”
“You’ll find the International Police to be more sympathetic to your plight than you might imagine,” said Ky, his manner reassuring. “Even once you were old enough to appreciate the true reprehensible nature of the Guild, to leave an organisation which had raised and supported you for so long must have taken great courage.”
“I’m not sure I deserve so much commendation on that account. We were always taught to be heartless creatures. I fear I will never be free of the Guild as long as it survives Any aid I can give you towards its dissolution is ultimately to my own benefit.”
(TBC)
5. The one that will probably have to be called 'The Story of Pants on a Stick'
Premise: So hey, why just come up with crack theories on the origin of new Overture characters when I could write entire fic based on them? >< >< >< This is basically crack fic, though I think it’s halfway trying to morph into fluff, which is pretty scary on its own.
Note to self: Attempting to tell
velithya that you’re not going to write something will only result in the most embarrassing kind of personal reverse psychology possible. I AM BLAMING YOU FOR EVERY WORD OF THIS, YOU HEAR?Current state: Probably about half done? I’m going to have to get it finished before the game actually comes out though, because this kind of crack fic isn’t going to be nearly as much fun once we all know how it really happened. >.>
Most people would probably think that a royal flag twirling demonstration would be a fairly safe thing to show an impressionable young well-he-looks-about-seven-now-to-me-year old. Most people would have thought a miniature flag would be a safe sort of present for growing boy (‘miniature’ meaning ‘only slightly taller than he was’, but Ky had had a very real certainty to his voice when he’d said, ‘he’ll grow into it’). But what most people would be forgetting was that the boy in question was a half-Gear who was currently growing and learning at the rate of a snowball accelerating downhill.
Sin thought the flag was the best present ever, which only made the situation all the more awkward. Ky really didn’t want to take it off him – he thought it a very good thing to encourage a bit of youthful patriotism (to say nothing of the tantrum Sin would have thrown had anyone tried to separate him from it now). However, the way Sin kept waving the thing around was becoming a bit of a worry, particularly since his attempts at mimicking the flag twirlers usually ended only when he’d whacked himself in the face.
“It doesn’t seem to put him off for long, no matter how hard he hits himself,” Ky told Sol on his next visit, having already gone through a couple of weeks of exasperation on the subject. “I’ve had to stuff padding around both ends just to stop him doing himself an injury.”
Sol watched Sin waving his flag around with the expression of a man vaguely wondering whether this behaviour could be blamed on the genetic contribution of the other parent. “Don’t you have people to do that stuff for you now?”
“Sol, the day you catch me hiring a royal padding stuffer is the day I want you to personally storm this country and put me out of my misery.”
“Yeah, whatever,” said Sol. “C’mon kid, let’s…”
All three of them winced as Sin whacked himself in the back of the kneecaps yet again.
“He’s bound to grow out of it before long,” said Ky hopefully.
“Bound to,” Sol agreed.
*
Sin did not grow out of it in the first couple of weeks of that particular trip with Sol, though his wild swinging did improve enough for him to graduate from hitting himself with it, on to him hitting everyone else in the vicinity.
“Knock it the fuck off!” Sol snapped at him, after being hit in the same place on the lower leg for the third time that morning.
“The what?” said Sin.
“Stop it,” Sol clarified.
Sin obediently stopped it. After five minutes, he decided ‘stop it’ had to have run out already, and started all over again.
*
When Sol next got back to the castle, there was nothing much left for him or Ky to do but give in to the inevitable.
“I’m going to find someone to give you proper flag twirling lessons,” Ky told Sin.
“Like the men with the big flags?” asked Sin, whole face lighting up.
“Like the men with the big flags,” Ky repeated.
“Whee!” Sin cried happily, swinging his beloved flag into the leg of Ky’s desk so hard that everything sitting on it rattled.
“Sin!” Ky warned, “No more waving that around inside the castle, do you understand? You’re going to break something if you don’t stop it!”
Sol was napping on a chair when he heard the sound of Sin stampeding past, cheerfully calling out “The fuck off!” as he ran by on route to the flag-sanctified zone of he outer gardens.
Oh fu… fudge! Sol thought. The odds Ky hadn’t heard that …
“…Sol?” called a far-too-familiar voice from Ky’s office.
…were zero. And that would be the sound that heralded yet another visit to the castle spent sleeping on the couch.
(TBC XD;)
In total (counting the rest of these five and those other couple that didn't make this post), there are more than 12,000 words of unfinished GG fic in that folder at the moment. And that's not counting Ghost Stories, or those doujinshi I'm supposed to be working on, or anything else I've got planned. Anyone still wondering why I'm not starting anything new for NaNo this year? ^^;;;
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Date: 2007-11-03 04:03 am (UTC)1. You know, there's actually this bit in those drama CDs you haven't listened to yet where I swear they're parodying Ky's death sequence in a scene with two Robo Kys. It's... a bit weird? XD If only there were translations out.
2. That one will be purely Ky POV. But mostly, you'll just have to wait and see how it all pans out.
3. Well, they certainly wouldn't have locked him up with the thing. But again, you'll just have to wait and see~
4. Don't worry, you made sense to me.
5. It's like the closest I may ever come to writing Sol and Ky being domestic, I swear. XD;
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Date: 2007-11-05 09:27 am (UTC)@ 5. They take care of taxes together (ahaha, and share checkbooks! XD) Ah, now I'm imaginin' Sol and Ky living together in some sort of TV comedy series~
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Date: 2007-11-05 11:33 am (UTC)5. XD I hope it never gets that bad. The crucial point about what qualifies as Sol and Ky being even remotely domestic is that none of it would count for anyone without a history like theirs.