splinteredstar (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
splinteredstar) wrote2011-05-06 11:08 pm
splinteredstar) wrote2011-05-06 11:08 pm
Entry tags:
FINALS ARE OVER. LET CELEBRATIONS COMMENCE.
So. Yeah. Finals are over. Room is half exploded with extra stuff. Must make it habitable... tomorrow.
Stealing a book from![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
edmondia's library.... DRABBLE REQUEST TIME.
(also clearly capslock time.) I've been in FF7 lately, but besides that, y'all know my fandoms.
Throw something at me, and hopefully I won't take six months on it this time!
Stealing a book from
edmondia's library.... DRABBLE REQUEST TIME. (also clearly capslock time.) I've been in FF7 lately, but besides that, y'all know my fandoms.
Throw something at me, and hopefully I won't take six months on it this time!
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Sebastian and Dimitri working at the concession stand or food court of some carnival and/or amusement park. They could be giving out cotton candy or circus peanuts or something. But they have to be wearing those silly red-and-white striped shirts with white pants (accessorize them as you will). Both of them being creepers to unsuspecting customers that come to their stand. Uncomfortable flirting. Takes place either early evening or late evening. Everything else is up to you. This was just meant to stimulate your writing senses. Have fun.
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http://starsplinter.livejournal.com/65551.html
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Since you're kind enough to take requests: Seto and Mokuba playing a game.
"Tabloids"
Mokuba remained happily absorbed in his own hotdog, even if he did have mustard caught in his hair and smeared on his cheek. Kaiba frowned, and caught the yellow streaked clump of hair to clean it off with a napkin.
Mokuba looked up at the tug on his hair, smiling. "Niisama, I *can* clean myself." But he was laughing as it said it, not angry or upset, so Kaiba just huffed and handed him the napkin. He settled back on the bench, his own plain hotdog already gone, and silently contemplated the pale pink puff of cotton candy he hadn't asked for, but Mokuba had bought for him anyway.
He carefully pulled a piece off and, feeling like he was testing a particularly unstable prototype, chewed on the pink fluff.
"Do you like it, Niisama?" Mokuba asked, wiping mustard off his face. Kaiba wasn't completely sure he understood the point of it - the stuff seemed to be sugar and little else - but Mokuba was still smiling, sure and bright and unafraid, so he shrugged and said,
"It's all right." Mokuba smiled even wider, and began chewing on his own with enthusiasm. At least there was no chance for this to smear all over his face, and his glow of happiness was enough for Kaiba to ignore the thought of what the stuff must be doing to his teeth.
Kaiba stretched his legs out in front of him and then stood, walking towards a newsstand nearby to flip through the infamous tabloid, "Domino Express." Disreputable and trashy, it was nevertheless read by many for its sensational, outrageous, and usually fake stories. This week's cover was a badly photo -shopped picture of Kaiba himself, with the headline, "Kaiba secretly British royal? Details inside!"
"Niisama?" Mokuba asked from the bench, still working on his cotton candy. "What're you doing?"
"Checking the scores." Kaiba said from behind the magazine. He heard Mokuba laugh, and then patter up next to him, his cotton candy forgotten on the bench.
"Hey, let me see!" Mokuba jumped for the magazine, but cheered as soon as he caught sight of the cover. "Ha! My story is on the front cover! I won this week, Niisama!"
Kaiba nodded his acknowledgement, having flipped through the magazine for his own submission. "Mine wasn't published. Ten points for you, zero for me." He mentally calculated. "Which brings the tally to 65/40, in your favor." He put the tabloid back on the stand, without bothering to read the "shocking story" that had been sent in from an "anonymous source", and filed the information in his head: apparently, for the Express, royalty won out over back room deals on the scale of publishable material.
"Okay." Mokuba's grin was so strong, Kaiba couldn't even feel that bad for losing. "This week, we try and get something published in Duelist, except that it *can't* be a shocking sex story."
Kaiba tilted his head, considering as he threw their trash away. "Yes, I suppose that would make it too easy." He started walking in the direction of his scheduled duel, mentally planning the next "anonymous submission." Hm. Not another secret sibling, not sex….Allegation of cheating? No, that didn’t seem to be as effective…
Mokuba might be able to fool the tabloid editors more easily, with an easy taste for the things people wanted to read, but Kaiba never put up with losing for long. Not even to Mokuba.
(...it couldn't be a normal game, you know)
Re: "Tabloids"
The image of Mokuba smeared in mustard, ketchup and cotton candy is priceless, as is the reference to him as a puppy-pony earlier, as well as Kaiba staring suspiciously at cotton candy as though it was a new threat.
Thanks!
Re: "Tabloids"
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This has been in my fanon for *ages* but I've never had an excuse to write it...
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"The Surprising Adventures Of Kovacs & Son - Nazi Hunters!"
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What He Would Have wanted:
"Daddy! Daddy!" Walter yelled, jumping into his father's lap in the cockpit of their warriorbot. "I saw a cyborg Hitler! Can I push the button this time? Can I?"
Tall and strong, with the American flag tattooed on his arm, his father smiled. "Of course. We have to stay vigilant, or else the Nazis and the commies will take over!" Walter nodded in agreement with the seriousness only a child can manage. "Now, the button for the eyebeams is the big red one. I'll drive."
Smiling like he'd just been given a puppy that barked rainbows, Walter settled into his father's lap as the Trumanbot 6000 whirred into life.
What Probably Would have Happened:
Walter huddled under the leaves of some horrible plant, flushed as red as his hair either from the heat or the fever he hadn't wanted to admit he had, because he knew this would happpen. He knew he would be left behind with the bugs and the snakes and the cannibals and the pygmies....
He pulled the leaves over himself tighter. He'd rather be out there, helping his father hunt down the Nazi Rats that hide here where the cowardly Europeans wouldn't touch them... and Father said he was so close to finding one of the worst of them, the Mad Doctor he told stories of to keep Walter in his bed at night. He'd creep through the camps, with scalpels on his fingers and knives in his mouth, syringes full of dye and acid tucked in his bloodstained coat...
There was shuffling in the plants, drops splattering and animals scattering. Walter crouched down, but he wasn't shivering, wasn't afraid of snakes or cannibals or the Doctor with his gleaming knives....
"Boy!" Walter jerked, and stood up, smiling and pushing his cover away. There was a tall red-haired man there - Walter's father, as he was most familiar: frowning at the sins of the world and splattered with foreigner's blood. "It wasn't him. Time to move again." His father picked him up and held him to his chest as they tromped through the jungle.
"Next time, right daddy?"
A grunt. "Sure, boy. Just keep up."