Akuni

Bleach darkfic comm

2008-11-14T19:17:15Z

Pimpin' for visualcomplex! :) ('cause I totally encouraged her to do it, harr!)

bleachedblackk

A comm for Bleach darkfic. Please check out the rules on the profile page, the FAQ, and the nifty layout.

Lest we forget

2008-11-11T17:50:24Z

When I was in school, Remembrance Day was a big deal. We had pageants and presentations, and at least one recitation of In Flanders Fields.

A heartfelt thank you to all the people who've worked so hard to keep me and mine safe and free, yesterday, today, and tomorrow. I never forget.

Bleach fanfic - Stumbling Stupidly Through Love: Getting Caught [part 3 of 10]

2008-11-07T19:24:18Z

Hopefully this'll help make up for the angst I posted for Halloween. :)

Title: Getting Caught
Series: Stumbling Stupidly Through Love [part 3 of 10]
Author: Akuni
Universe: Bleach
Genre: Romance, Humour
Rating: PG-15
Pairing: Renji/Ichigo (reversible, as always)
Spoilers: minor for SS arc
Word Count: 1400
Summary: Renji and Ichigo get caught as they stumble stupidly through love.

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach, I'm just borrowing it for a while.
Distribution: Crossposted eventually to ren_x_ichi, kurosaki_clinic, and bleach_yaoi. Please ask if you want to share it. :)

Dedication: To all fellow Renji/Ichigo fangirls/guys out there. We know it’s impossible, we know it’s silly, and we know it’s damned hot!

A/N: What is it about shoving these two into closets that appeals to me so much? Granted, this one is a lot roomier than the last, and the situation is entirely different, but still. This one was fun. Sekra, you’ve been waiting for this one for a long time, I hope it’s as inspiring as we both want it to be. *g*

Thanks as always to moshesque for the excellent beta-fu. :)

Stumbling Stupidly Through Love
#3 Getting Caught

    We’re gonna get caught! Renji could clearly see the thought reflected in Ichigo’s widened eyes as they fumbled to straighten their clothes. They’d lost track of time, and the sudden rumble of dozens of pairs of feet thundering through the 6^th Division headquarters reminded them that they were about two minutes away from being late for the drills they were supposed to be leading. Since it was their habit to be early for those things, someone was surely already looking for them, and if they couldn’t find them themselves, would start looking higher up the ranks for answers.

    “Shit.” Renji blinked several times and squinted hard in the gloom. “Where the hell’d my badge go?”

    “I don’t know, shut up and get dressed!” Ichigo’s elbow knocked against Renji’s ribs as he turned and bent to lace up his sandals.

    “Why’d I let you talk me into this?” Renji muttered, deliberately just loud enough for Ichigo to hear. He grinned at the disbelieving snort that drifted up from somewhere near his knees in response. After they got out of this mess, Renji knew they’d have a heated discussion about his willing and enthusiastic response when Ichigo suggested they duck into the storage room after lunch.

    The 6^th Division storage rooms were popular places for couples to sneak a little time together during the day. They were somewhere between spacious and cozy in size, warm in winter and cool in summer, filled with sturdy crates and shelves, and always faintly lit and far enough away from the sometimes overwhelming bustle of daily activities around headquarters. In short, they were perfect for trysting.

    Members made a point not to pay attention to the comings and goings around the storage rooms, and there were three unspoken rules regarding the unofficial uses of those rooms: don’t let anyone notice you going in; keep the noise down so no one has to notice you; and for the sweet love of sake, clean up any evidence before you leave!

    As lieutenant, Renji could only turn a blind eye to so much. Inevitably, he did have to occasionally confront couples – one time there’d been three people, actually – when they let things get out of hand. He didn’t have a problem with it personally; as long as they were relatively quick about it and didn’t make it a daily habit, he saw no harm in blowing off a little steam now and then when things were slow.

    When caught, people were usually contrite, so he normally let them go with a mild lecture about appropriate workplace behaviour, ending with, “I don’t wanna catch you here again, ya got it?”

    Most of them got the message. They’d nod quickly, and retreat with pink cheeks and sheepish expressions, and Renji rarely caught the same couple twice.

    Once Ichigo had found out about this not-so-secret tradition, he’d said nothing, but Renji had seen the wheels begin turning almost immediately.

    Renji had never thought to find himself scrambling to belt his kimono and find his insignia. Having someone to get caught with, though, had changed his perspective.

    “Here.” A fistful of wrinkled black material appeared in front of his nose. “Do you see my sash?”

    “Thanks, and no.” Renji threw his kimono over his shoulders and shoved his arms into the sleeves, but something wasn’t right. “Wait…” He thrust his right hand up his left sleeve. “Got it.” The long silken sash whisked pleasantly against his skin as he slithered it out.

    Ichigo stood and reached for his sash, but Renji yanked it away.

    “Just hold still.” Winding both arms around to Ichigo’s back, Renji threaded the sash through the wide loop at the back of Ichigo’s hakama. Surprisingly, Ichigo didn’t protest.

    “You can’t possibly want more already,” Ichigo whispered, tugging the shoulders of Renji’s kimono into place as he held his arms up out of the way. “We’re already late.”

    Renji snickered and was about to retort, but the abrupt silence drove all humour from his mind – the rush of feet toward the practice yard had stopped, which meant they were now going to be officially late no matter what. A quick glance told him Ichigo knew it, too.

    “We’re so fucked if we get caught,” Ichigo muttered. “Let’s get out of here.” He knocked Renji’s hands away from his half-done sash and began tying it himself. Renji nodded and began putting his own uniform back together.

    It was his own fault. Really, he knew the latch on this room’s door was flaky, but in his haste to get his kimono stuffed back in his hakama, he wasn’t thinking about his surroundings.

    As soon as Renji leaned back against the door, even before they heard the click of the latch giving way, he knew he was in trouble.

    “Fuck!” It came out as a choked whisper as he flung his arms out, reaching for something, anything, to keep him from falling out on his ass.

    His grasping hands found Ichigo’s half-tied sash.

    “Wait, no!” Ichigo’s expression changed from amusement to consternation and settled on full-out horror as he pitched forward. He brought his hands up and let his palms hit the door, an instinctive reaction that anyone would have had, Renji knew, but one that his sinking heart realized had doomed them both.

    In the back of his mind, Renji held onto the faint hope that everyone was out in the yard waiting for them, and no one had decided to try and track them down. No one had seen them enter the storage room, and no one would suspect they’d be in one together, certainly not for this. But several of his officers were entirely capable of tracking them through reiatsu…

    Renji screwed his eyes tightly shut as the door banged open and they fell, trying to force his muscles to relax to minimize the damage of the impending impact. It only helped a little; Renji bit back a yelp as his tailbone slammed into the floor, but couldn’t stop the loud exhalation of air as Ichigo landed squarely on top of him, sending pain spiking up his spine and driving the breath from the lungs.

    There was utter silence for a long moment, then Ichigo groaned loudly and Renji felt Ichigo’s head drop heavily on his chest.

    That couldn’t be good. Renji took a breath and, resisting the urge to just take a quick peek, opened his eyes wide.

    There, with the closest thing to an expression that Renji had ever seen on his face, stood the last person either of them wanted to see. One fine eyebrow arched inquisitively as Kuchiki Byakuya gazed down at them, sprawled half-dressed at his feet.

    Renji thought he should say something, but for the life of him he couldn’t think of how he could even begin to explain this in such a way that wouldn’t get him fired, or maybe attacked. There was no way, they were so screwed.

    Byakuya looked away. “You’re late for drill,” came the uninflected comment.

    Renji held his breath and waited for the worst, feeling Ichigo go very still as he did the same. “Yes, Taichou, we’re just on our way.” Still draped half on top of him, Ichigo nodded vigorously, for once not showing off his usual attitude toward authority figures.

    “Good.” Byakuya turned on his heel, and despite his mortification, Renji found himself wondering if his captain practiced that turn to ensure the appropriately intimidating flow and billow of his heirloom scarf and haori.

    They started to untangle themselves as Byakuya began gliding down the corridor. Just when Renji began to breathe again, thinking maybe they wouldn’t wind up on the wrong ends of thousands of tiny pink skewers after all, Byakuya stopped in place and Renji’s stomach flipped over.

    “Renji.”

    They froze, still half dressed and covered with dust from the floor. Renji swallowed hard. “Yes, Taichou?”

    Byakuya turned his head a fraction, just enough so they could see him looking out of the corner of his eye. “I do not want to catch you at this again. Do you understand?”

    “Yes, Taichou.”

    Then Byakuya was gone, and they were left gaping at each other even as they pulled their uniforms together and brushed off the dust. Exchanging a complicated glance that promised an awkward conversation in their future, they sprinted through the halls toward the practice yard, none of their usual banter surrounding them.

END

The original idea/prompt for this part:
- Sneaking around together. Sneaking nookie in a closet (I love closets), and leaning on the door and falling out half-dressed... The closet with the open door... Renji on his back on the floor, robe flapping open. Ichigo sprawled on top of him, sash flapping, hakama falling off... they're staring up at Byakuya in horror. Byakuya is staring at them rather stunned.

Bleach fanfic - Pep Talk

2008-11-05T18:59:31Z

HAPPY (late) BIRTHDAY, STARK! ♥

Title: Pep Talk
Author: Akuni
Universe: Bleach
Genre: Drama, pre-slash if you squint
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairing: Shuuhei & Renji
Spoilers: SS arc
Word Count: 663
Summary: Shuuhei hasn’t stopped being Renji’s senpai just because they’ve left the Academy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach, I'm just borrowing it for a while.
Distribution: This is only for stark_black, so no. :) Crossposted eventually to shuuren, kurosaki_clinic, and bleach_yaoi.

Dedication: For Stark on her birthday, because she deserves a pick-me-up. :)

A/N: It’s no secret that I adore Renji. I also quite like Shuuhei, and I enjoy using him as a side character in my fic. For some reason, though, I never quite got into the ShuuRen pairing, and that hole in my shipping tree makes absolutely no sense! Stark’s recent birthday gave me a reason to think about it more closely, and try and get into it. Gosh, I think it might’ve worked. ^_^ (Sorry for the lateness, eep!)

Also, there’s a serious lack of Shuuhei in official art. What’s up with that?!

Thanks moshesque for the beta and assurance that this could be read shippy or non. :)

Pep Talk

    “Get a grip, Renji. It happens. We don’t have to like it, but we do have to get over it.”

    “Three people died today, ’cause of me, ’cause of my mistake.”

    Shuuhei drummed his fingers on his sticky glass for a long moment before replying. “I could tell you that it wasn’t your fault, that no one blames you for being ambushed because the intel you’d been given was faulty, and that you did the best you could in a bad situation.”

    He lifted his gaze, staring hard at Renji. “But you and I both know that won’t make a difference. You were in charge, so it’s your responsibility. Whether you’re on patrol or in the training yard, those people’s lives are in your hands.”

    Banging the flat of his hand on the table, Renji sprang up, his sudden movement sending his chair careening backward. “I know that already, Shuuhei, why’d ya think I—”

    “Because you need to understand that this is just how it is. People will die, no matter how careful we are, and no matter what we do it’ll always be our fault because we’re in charge.” Shuuhei grabbed Renji’s forearm and pulled. “Sit down, don’t be so dramatic.”

    The other patrons of the dingy Rukongai bar were keeping their heads down and their eyes to themselves, but there was only so much the owner would permit before tossing troublemakers out, shinigami or no. Shuuhei hadn’t been here since he’d left the Academy, but the way Renji was leaking frustrated reiatsu lit a bright beacon even for those who wouldn’t have known about this place.

    Glowering, Renji sat, his chair scraping loudly against the wooden floor as he yanked it back under him. “I know that,” he muttered. “Just didn’t know it’d feel like this.”

    “It’ll get worse.” Shuuhei lifted his glass and drained it.

    Renji scowled, ripping at the shreds of the napkin he’d been mutilating all night. “Thanks senpai, you’re so reassuring.”

    Licking his lips, Shuuhei plunked the empty glass down and leaned forward, resting both elbows on the table. “Not trying to be reassuring. It’s the truth.”

    “How the hell can it get worse?”

    Shuuhei curled his left arm in front of his body. “When you’re leading your entire division, and not just a squad.” His lieutenant’s badge shifted under his flexed bicep.

    “After that mess, it’ll be a thousand years before I get there. If I ever get there, now.”

    “You will.”

    Renji snorted. “’Cause I’m already doin’ so great as sixth seat, they’ll just have to promote me?”

    “Look, you can sit here and feel sorry for yourself—”

    “Hey, I—”

    Shuuhei ignored the glare and kept right on over Renji’s objection. “—or you can accept that it sucks and focus on preparing for the next time it happens so it’ll suck less.”

    Falling silent, Renji stared into his cloudy beer, swirling it around several times before downing the lot. “Sounds like the voice of experience.”

    More than you realize, Shuuhei thought, phantom pain twinging in his right eye. “Yeah.”

    With a grunt, Renji pushed himself out of his chair – much less violently this time, Shuuhei was relieved to note – and dropped a few crumpled bills on the stained table. “Ok. Let’s go.”

    Shuuhei nodded, and followed his unsteady friend out into the night. “Next time, come see me first,” he offered, steadying Renji with a quick hand on his elbow. “My place is cleaner, and the booze is better.”

    A half-grin tugged up the corner of Renji’s mouth. “Cheaper, too, if you’re buyin’.”

    As they made their way back toward Seireitei, Shuuhei felt Renji’s reiatsu calm, losing its angry, frustrated edge and gradually returning to normal. He rolled his shoulders as the tension eased, not even minding when Renji’s humour returned in the form of a friendly fist knocked against his arm as they compared the merits of the finest Rukongai plonk with the potential blinding power of Ikkaku’s home brew.

END

Hope you're having a great day. :)

Writing news, pressies, and general rambling

2008-11-04T19:46:22Z

Picking up a big project after a hiatus is... extremely difficult. I've done a great deal of writing since the last time I worked on my ByaUlqui story, but that was different writing. That was writing short pieces, birthday and exchange fics, which require a different mindset.

I opened my doc and saw all the detailed notes I'd left myself where I'd left off, and for just an instant I wanted to curl up and hide. So many plot threads to keep straight, so many details I can't forget to include! Gah! There was a brief moment of incredulity, with just a hint of panic - how on earth did I manage to write stories like this? I've intimidated myself, lol.

Still, it's good to be back in "project mode". I know it's kind of dorky, but I like having a major project on the go, it makes me feel productive. :) This time, I'm going to continue to work on not stressing myself to the max with it. I'll get done what I get done, when I get it done. I've gotten pretty good at giving myself permission to do other things, so I'm going to continue to knit, watch my shows, read manga, and write other stories at the same time.

So I'm back in business on the ByaUlqui, and on the side I have other things to work on when I need a break: the next Amaranthine story, SSTL (#3 is ready to post this week, whee!), occasional exercises for my writing group, the multifandom request prompts, and a couple original projects that I'm not quite ready to talk about yet but am very excited over. ^_^

In other news, the past few weeks have seen many goodies arriving in my snail mail.

taintedkibou sent me a gorgeous Renji fanart print that she picked up at a con, a souvenir from her trip to NY, and the Renji half of the 6th Div tea cup set (she says she's keeping his captain so we can have tea together across the miles. D'aww! ♥). To show off my goodies, I took a picture of part of the windowsill above my desk! (I will take more pics of my office once I get more stuff up on the walls, rar!)

(L-R: Lady Liberty; Renji cup from Cheza; Iruka figurine that Shelagh's kids gave me; and the DB9 hubby gave me, aka 'sex on wheels')

Renjiiiiiiiii! *_* Oh baby!

As if that wasn't enough awesomeness, mefie_toi also went to a con - but this was a sci-fi geek con, and she surprised me with my first ever celeb autograph.

Q rocks, and so does mefie_toi. 'Nuff said! :D

Aaaaaaaaaand as if that wasn't enough, liralen did two stunning paintings to help me decorate my new house. One is a black and white bamboo, and the other is a hummingbird among cherry blossoms done in colour (links go to dA; I didn't want to post thumbnails without permission!). I'm checking my mail obsessively, I can't wait til they arrive! ^_^

You guys have spoiled me so much. You all are amazing. :) Thank you.

Bleach fanfic - Heavier than a Mountain

2008-10-31T17:40:55Z

Title: Heavier than a Mountain
Author: Akuni
Universe: Bleach
Genre: Romance, Angst
Rating: PG-15
Pairing: Renji/Ichigo
Spoilers: up to and including HM arc
Word Count: 1591
Summary: Death is lighter than a feather, while duty is heavier than a mountain.

A/N: This is my contribution to the Halloween 'Come As You’re Not' event. The idea was intriguing, but I was intimidated at the thought of doing something so different. conjure_lass was considering it, too, and so we challenged each other to write against our happy ending natures. We promised to write each other gratuitously happy and fluffy OTP fic to console ourselves and make it all better. We wibbled and we wept but in the end, we both succeeded. :)

I wasn’t sure I was going to make it when I agreed to it. But one night I couldn’t sleep, my brain kept spinning this story out, and so I crawled out of bed somewhere around 3am, wrote like a fiend until 5:30am, then sent the whole mess off to moshesque for beta with only a single quick editing pass. After making the edits the next day, I put the fic away for three full weeks, and didn’t look at it again until just this week.

Thanks for the encouragement and the beta, Moshy. I really don’t think I would have the guts to post this if you and Sekra hadn’t insisted it was worthy. Look at me, doing all these weird and uncharacteristic things. It’s good, really good, but I feel the need to dive back into my comfort zone. ;)

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach, I'm just borrowing it for a while.
Distribution: Crossposted eventually to ren_x_ichi, kurosaki_clinic, and bleach_yaoi. Please ask if you want to share it. :)

Dedication: For all the folks over at the ‘Come As You’re Not’ event, for giving me a reason to write this.

Heavier than a Mountain

    “We gotta stop. This can’t go on.”

    Those weren’t the words Ichigo had been expecting to hear. When Renji had messaged to tell him he’d taken a day off to visit the living world, he’d been looking forward to having the unexpected time.

    Clearly, Renji wasn’t making any sense. “What are you talking about?” Ichigo grinned. “You don’t like sneaking over rooftops to come see me anymore?”

    Renji stood in the centre of Ichigo’s tiny rooftop, arms folded tightly to his chest, and Ichigo’s grin faded as he realized something was very wrong.

    “You need to live – a real life, not this half life you’ve been having. There’s a reason substitute shinigami are rare, and this is it.”

    “I like my life just fine,” Ichigo replied, uncertain, still not sure where this was going, or where it was coming from.

    Renji shook his head. “How long do ya think that’ll last? Five years? Maybe ten?” His eyes were dull as he looked away. “I can’t take those years away from you.”

    Something cold and uncomfortable started swirling in Ichigo’s gut. “This isn’t funny,” he snapped. “Start making sense, or shut up and let’s go fight someth—”

    “You’ll need to get married and have a family someday,” Renji blurted in a rush. “I can’t be part of that.”

    Married? Kids? “Where the hell did you get that idea? Has my father been going on about grandkids again? You know he’s just teasing Yuzu.” Ichigo laughed, but stopped when he realized Renji wasn’t laughing with him.

    Renji was serious.

    As Renji paced around the low wooden box of sun-crisped grass that Karin and Yuzu had insisted on planting, Ichigo tried to wrap his mind around the idea that Renji wanted them to stop, wanted Ichigo to be with someone else, but the idea was just too absurd. The more he thought about it, the colder he got, chilly tension winding through him until he thought he might just crack.

    Seven months. It had only been seven months since they’d been… what? It had taken years to work up to friendship, but only a single heated moment for all those years of tension and foreplay to spark a blazing inferno between them.

    Ichigo had never known such intensity from another person; Chad’s solid, stoic loyalty, Ishida’s cool, focused deliberateness, Tatsuki’s fierce friendship – none of it held a candle to the sheer magnitude of Renji’s company.

    They had their quiet moments, to be sure, but the fire was always there, simmering just below the surface, waiting for the next gust of wind to stir it back up.

    How was he supposed to deliberately just let that flame fizzle out?

    “You’re a coward,” Ichigo spat. He pointed at Renji’s back, stiff and straight as he paced. Ichigo jabbed his finger through the air viciously in lieu of the punch he wanted to deliver. “You haven’t learned a thing these past few years, have you? You walked away from Rukia because you didn’t have the guts to hold onto her, and now you’re walking away from me the same way.”

    Renji stopped mid-stride. “I know.” His slumped shoulders and hollow, rasping reply sent Ichigo’s stomach plummeting and his anger trickling away like water.

    “Then why?” Ichigo asked, grabbing Renji’s arm, letting his fingers dig deeply as he hauled Renji back around to face him.

    “You know it’s gotta be this way.” Ichigo watched Renji’s adam’s apple move up and down several times. “We shoulda known from the start but… I guess we were selfish. We chose not to think about the rules, but we shoulda known that can’t go on forever.”

    “Since when do we care about the rules?”

    “This ain’t the same!” Renji retorted, the muscles of his arm jumping under Ichigo’s hand. “This is nothing like storming the castle and saving the girl, and everyone lives happily ever after.” He blinked, twice, then his eyes stared hard into Ichigo’s. “You’re alive, and this is life,” he said. “You got a responsibility to your family and society, and I got a responsibility to Soul Society. Neither of us can do what we need to if we’re tied up with each other.”

    Ichigo scowled. “My father…” he began, trying another tack.

    “…hid in a gigai that sapped his reiatsu and took your mother’s name to hide from Soul Society,” Renji finished. “He left during a different time, for damn good reasons. We… that wouldn’t work for us. You can’t afford to give up being a shinigami here, not with the mess we’ve got to clean up after the war, and there’s no way they’d let me stay even if I wanted to.” Renji grimaced. “You know they’re gonna throw me into training and shove me through the tests. I’ll come out a captain or I won’t come out at all.”

    “We’ve managed pretty well so far.”

    “You only finished high school because Chad and Ishida helped you cram.”

    “In case you forgot, there was a war going on, I didn’t exactly have time to keep up with things here!”

    “That last year, when—”

    “Don’t go there,” Ichigo warned. He shoved away the black memories, but he still smelled the stench of broken bodies, heard the screams, tasted the blood…

    “That kinda thing’ll always be happening, now more than ever. You really wanna add trying to hold this together on top of that, plus a wife and kids?” Renji’s mouth closed to a tight, thin line. “I can’t live that way. It’s all or nothing, and we can’t have it all. We got too many other obligations to have it our way anymore.”

    Ichigo took a deep breath around the heavy weight settling on his chest. Renji was right, damn him. Who he slept with didn’t really matter, just as long as he did his duty publicly. But Ichigo could never live that kind of life, and he could never ask someone else to do it, either.

    “And don’t you dare try’n tell me those obligations matter less than…” Renji faltered, and his face twisted. “…this. Us.”

    “I wasn’t going to.” Ichigo sighed, then lifted his hand from Renji’s arm and ran it through his hair. “I don’t want to do this,” he said simply, letting his hand fall limp at his side.

    “Me either.”

    Ichigo closed his eyes and took another deep, calming breath.

    “It don’t gotta be forever,” Renji said eventually. “Just…”

    Ichigo snorted. “Just ’til I die?”

    There was no guarantee that things would work out again after a lifetime apart. It was impossible for them not to change, and maybe the fire they’d stoked between them wouldn’t burn again after being buried under a lifetime of cold ash.

    If this was to be the last… if this was really it, then he really had nothing left to lose, and every reason to lower the walls, just once. Ichigo smiled, oddly without any difficulty. “I love you, you know,” he said softly.

    Renji’s answering smile was only a little bit crooked. “I’m just glad I didn’t love you ’til you were legal.”

    Despite the freezing hole in his middle, Ichigo managed to chuckle and roll his eyes. “You’ll never change, will you?”

    Renji’s smile faded. “Not as much as you will.”

    They stared at each other silently.

    “I should be getting back. I got no time to spend socializing in the living world.” Renji lifted a hand then stopped abruptly. After an awkward, unmoving moment, he fisted both hands at his sides and took one step backward. “Well, see ya ’round, Kuro—”

    “No!” Ichigo snapped his hand up before Renji could finish. “Not that.” He took one step forward, bringing them back within arm’s reach. “You only ever called me that once, just the one time. We’ve always had a personal connection, as enemies, rivals, and allies, before we were ever friends or… lovers.” Ichigo was proud that he only faltered a little on the last.

    “Yeah, you were always a personal pain in the ass.” Renji’s mouth turned up in a one-sided grin. “I’ll see ya on the other side, Ichigo.” He turned to one side and drew his zanpakutou.

    Ichigo stared up at the sky, a knot of anguish twisting his stomach. Just one more person to have to say goodbye to, something he’d grown used to over the years of his unique life, but this time it was someone he’d let himself believe would never have to leave. He didn’t think he could bear to watch.

    He waited for the surge of power, for the static hiss of the portal to Soul Society opening, but it never came. Instead, the air grew thick and tense, and something loomed in the oppressive silence.

    Against the thrumming atmosphere, Ichigo’s resolve stood no chance. He steeled himself as he directed his gaze back down toward Renji.

    His heart splintered when he saw the fierce shine of Renji’s eyes, locking onto his own and reeling him in.

    There was an explosion of movement as they lunged and crashed together.

    The kiss was hard. It wasn’t much of a kiss as far as kisses go, more of a clash of unhappy mouths, desperate hands clutching shoulders and heads. Bitter salt mingled with Renji’s taste on Ichigo’s tongue, and then all he could taste was the fabric of Renji’s uniform as they held on tightly for just one more moment.

    The surge of power faded, and the portal hissed closed.

    Ichigo wiped his cheeks and neck and went back inside his empty flat.

    “Goodbye, Renji.”

END

A/N2: The title is taken from the Japanese proverb ‘Death is lighter than a feather, while duty is heavier than a mountain’. (No, it’s not from Robert Jordan’s ‘Wheel of Time’ series, though he did use it there to great effect. :p)

Fanart!

sekra treated me to several sneak peeks of some Halloween projects she was working on, so I sent her this story to return the favour. She bribed me with the promise of a fluffy sketch of my choice in return, so I drew her one of my super special MSN stickman pictures (which I somehow neglected to save, woe!) as my request.

The sketch I got back, however, was something entirely different. She said sorry, but the sad story had inspired her, and she sent me this. As always, click for full size.

‘Goodbye’

*sniffle* WAAAAAAAAaahhhhhhhhhhh! Sekra, that didn’t make me feel better!! ;_; It did, however, make me feel very happy that this story touched you so keenly. Thank you. :) (Do you want to watermark this?  I'll UL a new version if you do, just email it to me whenever.)

Bleach fanfic - False Alarm

2008-10-30T23:29:33Z

Title: False Alarm
Author: Akuni
Universe: Bleach
Genre: Romance, Humour, WAFF
Rating: PG
Pairing: Ichigo/Urahara
Spoilers: SS arc
Word Count: 1198
Summary: Ichigo can't get a minute's peace with Urahara around.

A/N: Oh my goodness, I did it! conjure_lass and I challenged each other to write against our happy ending natures for the Halloween “Come As You’re Not” event. We promised to write each other gratuitously happy and fluffy OTP fic to console ourselves and make it all better. We wibbled and we wept but in the end, we both succeeded (will be posting mine tomorrow!). So, this is Cherry’s reward.

Mosh was tremendously helpful, offering suggestions to help me punch up the humour, and keeping me motivated by snickering her head off at all the right places while she was reading it. ^_^ I’d be utterly lost without her assistance and support.

Darn you, Cherry! I still don’t ship it, but while writing this I could suddenly see how hot it could be. :P

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach, I'm just borrowing it for a while.
Distribution: This is just for conjure_lass, so no. :) Crossposted eventually to ura_ichi, kurosaki_clinic, asterisk_plus, and bleach_yaoi.

Dedication: For Cherry, because she totally earned it. :)

False Alarm

    “How the hell did you do that, you slippery bastard?” Ichigo pointed Zangetsu’s tip straight toward the figure leaning casually in the doorway of the Urahara Shouten. “I know it had to be you.”

    “Does it matter?” Urahara unfolded his arms and pushed away from the door frame. Taking a step toward Ichigo, he poked up at his hat with one finger and peered out from under the brim. “Are you going to stab me?” His smile was just a hair shy of being an outright leer.

    “It’s the middle of the night,” Ichigo grumbled, letting Zangetsu’s wrap twine itself around the broad blade and settling it in place on his back. “My last set of exams is tomorrow, and you hacked my substitute shinigami license to fake a Hollow attack because…?”

    “I thought you might need some help relaxing~.”

    Ichigo sighed, closing his eyes and rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Kisuke…”

    “See, there, you’re tense.” Warm hands slid up Ichigo’s arms and began squeezing his shoulders.

    “I’m tense because I’m tired, Geta-boshi.” Dropping his head so his chin rested on his chest, Ichigo leaned into the massage, wincing when strong fingers worked at the knots.

    The old nickname was met with a low chuckle and a stronger squeeze. “Come inside, Ichigo.”

    Ichigo hesitated, debating with himself. Part of him nagged that he was technically on duty, and that he had an early morning, but he wanted to give in, wanted to let himself just relax and enjoy Urahara’s company.

    It hadn’t been very long since his drunken confession revealed the feelings he’d hidden so carefully. Or so he’d thought. Bad enough that he’d let Renji and Shuuhei get him roaring drunk one night to celebrate the end of classes – worse was finding out they’d already known Ichigo had developed a thing for the enigmatic shopkeeper, and had matched him drink for drink to get him to the point where he thought telling Urahara he wanted to lick him from head to toe was a terrific idea.

    He supposed he should be grateful that they didn’t talk him into tattooing his face while they were at it. It hadn’t been all bad, in retrospect, and Ichigo thought perhaps he’d been a bit harsh with his friends the next day. Waking up to such intense mortification that he’d wanted to bury his head in his blankets and stay there for the next year hadn’t put him in a charitable mood, though. Not to mention feeling as if a wrecking ball was cheerfully smashing around inside his skull when he’d yelled at their hastily retreating forms.

    When Ichigo had gone to the Urahara Shouten in the afternoon to beg forgiveness, he’d barely begun when Urahara had interrupted his stammering apology.

    “Are you sober yet?” he’d asked, eyeing Ichigo shrewdly. Ichigo had nodded, looking at his feet as he felt his face heat with shame. He’d just had time to register the flurry of movement – he still swore up and down that Urahara had used shunpo – before he was being thoroughly kissed.

    “I really shouldn’t…” Ichigo quirked the corner of his mouth up regretfully, but he didn’t move away; instead, he reached out and rested one hand on Urahara’s hip, smoothing his thumb over the comfortably worn fabric.

    A slow grin spread across Urahara’s face. “Yes, well, I wouldn’t want to encourage you to do something you shouldn’t.” He ducked his head just a little, his hat sliding back down to shade his eyes once more. “Come inside, and we’ll play ‘naughty shopkeeper and the eager young schoolboy’.”

    Lowering his arms and stepping away from Ichigo, Urahara spread his arms wide. “Welcome to my shop, Kurosaki-san~!” he sing-songed, then cocked his head toward the door.

    Shaking his head, Ichigo laughed and followed as Urahara led him into the shop and down the hall to his private quarters.

    As soon as the door shut behind them, Ichigo was ready. “Oh Urahara-san,” he piped, forcing his voice unnaturally high, “you said you’d give me a special treat if I helped you sweep the shop steps.”

    “You’re a very lucky schoolboy,” Urahara practically purred, swinging his hips as he stalked toward him.

    Ichigo couldn’t take it anymore; he burst out laughing at the comically lewd expression on Urahara’s face. Urahara tittered, producing his fan from somewhere Ichigo still had yet to determine and fluttering it with mock-coyness below his nose.

    Still laughing, Ichigo shot one arm forward with all the speed he could muster, catching Urahara by the wrist and pulling him unresisting into an embrace. The fan snapped shut and vanished with a twirl of Urahara’s fingers as Ichigo pressed closer and leaned in.

    His lips met paper. Ichigo blinked, and the folded edges of the fan came into focus. “Funny.” Snatching the fan, he pitched it across the room without looking as he mashed his mouth against Urahara’s smirk. Eager lips parted under his, and Ichigo fastened their mouths together properly.

    Urahara’s wickedly clever tongue swiped over Ichigo’s, tracing slick patterns. A soft hum rumbled from his chest as Ichigo wound his arm around his neck and dug his fingers into the tousled blond hair. Catching Ichigo’s upper lip between his teeth, Urahara sucked and nipped just hard enough to tantalize.

    Deep need was just beginning to stir low in Ichigo’s belly when the kiss slowed and Urahara pulled away. Licking his lips, Ichigo was pleased to see the flush of arousal darkening Urahara’s neck and face.

    “Stay the night,” Urahara offered. “I’ll wake you in time to get home to your body before your exams.”

    Ichigo considered it for maybe a second before drawing Zangetsu off his back and propping the blade in the corner. “All right.” He began shucking his clothes, taking off all but his white under robe and leaving the rest in an untidy heap next to Zangetsu.

    “You need to be wearing less.” Ichigo tugged at the strings of Urahara’s loose pants, growling when Urahara slithered away and tugged him toward the futon instead.

    “You said you needed to sleep.” Plucking his hat off with his thumb and forefinger, Urahara tossed it with uncanny accuracy onto the bureau against the far wall. “You’d just get mad at me tomorrow if I kept you up all night.” He flipped back the covers and settled himself beneath them. “Room for two~!” he declared, patting the mattress extravagantly.

    Ichigo groaned as he slid under the blankets beside him. “You’re a tease, yanno that? Get me over here, get me all worked up…” Despite the wanting ache in his groin, Ichigo felt his mind going fuzzy around the edges, and he yawned noisily into the pillow. “Later,” he promised, flinging his arm around Urahara’s waist and moulding himself against his back.

    The room was quiet and still for several minutes. Ichigo was only half awake when Urahara wriggled and pushed back with his rear, for all the world seeming like a man simply getting comfortable in his bed, but Ichigo could almost hear the scheming mental wheels turning.

    Sighing, Ichigo resigned himself to a night of torture as his traitorous hips pressed forward in reply, entirely of their own will.

END

Halloween Party - Come As You're Not 2008

2008-10-27T21:50:41Z

Hi all! :)

Last-minute reminder about the Come As You're Not event. I have successfully completed my challenge to write something uncharacteristic of me, and I'm hoping to see some familiar names on Friday. *waves at conjure_lass* We did it, yay us! \o/

Now I have to go start planning my Death Star pumpkin... ;)

quiz

2008-10-27T15:35:33Z

Pinched from abandonreality.

Hehehehe... excellent. *steeples fingers Monty Burns style*

Bleach fanfic - Matching the Missing Pieces

2008-10-23T17:38:35Z

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, IRONDOG! ♥

Title: Matching the Missing Pieces
Author: Akuni
Universe: Bleach
Genre: Romance, PWPish with a nod toward some background plot
Pairing: Ichigo/Shirosaki (would I give you anything else?)
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: for SS arc
Word count: 2556
Summary: When you take what you want, sometimes you get what you need.

A/N: Writing this pairing was a fun challenge. I can’t quite shake the feeling that IchiHichi is really an elaborate form of masturbation, which adds a certain extra hotness to the whole thing. ;) I’m glad I had a reason to try this, because I’m happy with how this turned out and I doubt I would’ve tackled it on my own. Thanks for the motivation. :)

Thanks as always to moshesque for the lightning-fast beta and not yelling at me when I wibbled overmuch (and accidentally cut off the beta attribution, aljgnubwu!).

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach, I'm just borrowing it for a while.
Distribution: This is just for 2metaldog, so no. :) Crossposted to ourshakinthrone, kurosaki_clinic, and bleach_yaoi.

Dedication: For IronDog on her birthday, because she’s a wonderfully corrupting influence. *grin* (sorry it's so late!)

Matching the Missing Pieces

    “This is so fucked up,” Ichigo mumbled, his half-hearted complaint muffled by the greedy lips mashed to his.

    Those lips backed off. “Ya don’t wanna stop now, King?” The Hollow pulled away from his mouth only to shove Ichigo’s kimono off his shoulders and attack the bared flesh of Ichigo’s neck. “That’d be dumb even for you.”

    Ichigo only snorted, tipping his head to the side encouragingly as he yanked the Hollow closer. He’d sought his inner world for this very reason; he didn’t want to stop, but part of him still couldn’t believe he’d ever started, and that was the part that had temporarily taken over the speech centre of his brain.

    Never mind that it was his idea in the first place, though he knew he wasn’t the only one thinking it, not the only one wondering, looking, watching with growing hunger. Glowing yellow eyes reflected his own desire back at him, fuelling the lust in his belly.

    Ichigo marvelled at how their bodies fit together. It made sense, in a way, but he thought it shouldn’t have; shouldn’t he need to find the person who fit his missing pieces? How could he find that in someone who was his mirrored reflection? But the Hollow was all his missing pieces – the peaks to his valleys, the bits of his soul that hid inside, lurking in the shadows, waiting for him to need them.

    That was why Ichigo fought against it – him, as he couldn’t rightly think of the Hollow as an ‘it’, not with matching erections pressing together through the thin layers of their clothing.

    The Hollow wasn’t complete on his own, he was only half of what Ichigo was, what he should be. His place was in the shadows, Ichigo’s inner self balanced by his outer. Ichigo thought the Hollow knew that, but it was a necessary part of his nature to fight, just as it was Ichigo’s to rise to the battle each time.

    Two halves, in balance through the pressures they exerted against each other. Like opposite sides of an arch, both sides meeting in the middle to support each other and the load they had to bear, their power magnified, the whole greater than merely the sum of their parts.

    “Are you gonna get back in the game, here, or are you gonna overthink this? ’Cause I ain’t interested in doin’ this with you a million miles away – coulda jerked off on my own and been done by now if I wanted that.” The Hollow started to pull away.

    Tightening his grip on the slim hips, Ichigo followed the single step back, and hauled their bodies together firmly. “No, I don’t want to stop, and you know it.” Ichigo tilted his pelvis, grinding his cock against the Hollow’s. “C’mon… uh…”

    Ichigo drew a blank. What was he supposed to call him? The intelligent Hollows he’d encountered had all had names, but as Ichigo searched his memory, he realized that his Hollow – and that thought manifested way more possessively than he’d expected – had never given Ichigo his name.

    “What should I call you?” Ichigo asked, frowning. “I can’t keep thinking of you as ‘the Hollow’, especially now.”

    The Hollow shrugged. “Got no name. Don’t need one, it’s just you ’n’ me. And the old man,” he added before running his tongue flat up the side of Ichigo’s neck.

    Damn his nameless Hollow for knowing just how much he liked having his neck licked and kissed and oh hell bitten, just like that. Closing his eyes, Ichigo let his head fall back as he began untying the Hollow’s sash, but was determined not to let himself be distracted. “If I have a name, and Zangetsu has a name, then you must have one.”

    “Nah.”

    No name? Not even the moist tongue laving his ear was enough to derail his train of thought. Ichigo raised his head again and opened his eyes to stare directly into the Hollow’s. “You seriously don’t have a name?”

    “Nope.”

    “Well you should. Pick one, then.”

    “Pick one?” The Hollow snorted. “Even I know ya don’t just pick a name, King. If you ain’t got one of your own, you get given one by someone important.” His eyes glittered beneath raised eyebrows, and Ichigo had a sudden insight.

    Without stopping to second guess the impulse, Ichigo snatched up the bait. “Your name is who you are. But until you figure out what your real name is, I’ll just call you ‘Shiro’.” He grinned, pointing back and forth between their contrasting uniforms.

    The newly dubbed Shiro looked at him silently for a long moment, cheeks twitching, and one side of his mouth eventually turned up despite his obvious efforts. Coupled with the non-antagonistic heat in his eyes, it gave him an oddly playful appearance that Ichigo found immediately appealing.

    Ichigo spared a split second for the thought that he ought to smile more himself if it made his face look like that, before grasping the back of Shiro’s neck and fusing their mouths together.

    The moan that rose from deep inside Shiro’s chest was a surprise for Ichigo. Not that Shiro wasn’t normally vocal about everything and anything, but this particular sound was so free, without the challenging, self-serving undercurrent that so frequently marked their interactions. Heat rushed from every point of contact – rippling flutters under Ichigo’s hand on the back of Shiro’s neck, tingling lips and tongues, and rubbing, shoving groins.

    Funny how only a few layers of fabric could seem like way too much and way too little, all at once. Ichigo wondered just what they made shinigami uniforms from, and if his had always been so helpfully smooth and insubstantial. Despite the lingering thought that he was making his life even more complicated than it already was, the slow burn of pleasure spreading from his cock was quickly leading him to the decision that less would definitely be more.

    It was hearing Shiro’s low grunt as they ground their hips that did it. Breaking away from the kiss with a gasp, Ichigo leaned his forehead against Shiro’s and yanked at the ends of Shiro’s sash. “C’mon, Shiro, gimme a hand here.” He held his arms to the side as the sash fell free, to give Shiro room to—fucking hell, shove his hand right down the front of Ichigo’s hakama.

    It wasn’t exactly a comfortable fit, but Ichigo wasn’t about to complain as long, cool fingers fumbled through the layers and finally slid down to cup his dick. Shiro’s chuckle as Ichigo bucked echoed eerily around the structures in the sunny buildingscape.

    “Sneaky bastard,” Ichigo muttered, working on undoing the rest of the ties on Shiro’s hakama as he counted to ten in his head to distract himself from the completely unfair advantage. He swallowed a groan as Shiro squeezed him from root to tip, rolling his foreskin between nimble fingers before stroking back down.

    Ichigo counted backward. In English. Finally, he loosed the ties enough to push the folds aside and reach—

    “You’re not wearing any underwear!” Ichigo’s hand landed on bare, hot flesh, flesh that was firm and twitched eagerly against his palm.

    Shiro smirked. “Makes things easier, dontcha think?” He thrust just a bit, leaning into Ichigo’s touch even as he kept up the same torturous massage that was weakening Ichigo’s knees. “Come on!”

    Clinging to what little was left of his rational mind, Ichigo thought about that for a second and frowned. “I thought you were supposed to be, well, like me.”

    “Come on,” Shiro repeated, rolling his eyes. “Talk later.”

    Curling his fingers around a cock that felt so much like his own, Ichigo tugged upward experimentally, grinning when he pulled another lusty sound from Shiro. “Talk later,” he agreed, squeezing and stroking the way he liked it. The same basic principles did seem to apply when he touched himself, but the underwear made him wonder if perhaps they weren’t entirely similar.

    “What do you like?” he asked, dropping his gaze to watch his wrist and arm pumping, disappearing into the white folds. It was ridiculous, but suddenly he wanted to see, wanted to… Ichigo licked his lips and swallowed hard as his heart thundered in his chest; he wasn’t ready yet for everything he wanted, but this was no time to balk.

    “Dunno. But I think…” Abruptly, Shiro pulled his hand away, and Ichigo couldn’t help the urgent thrust of his hips as his cock tried to follow. He tingled all over, quivering with the tension that begged to be released, and he halted his hand mid-stroke in objection.

    “You’re a bit overdressed, King.” Shiro expertly flipped at the sash and ties on Ichigo’s hakama, and in seconds had the fabric pooling at Ichigo’s feet. “Think we oughta get a good look at the goods.” A second later he was stepping out of his own hakama, the flapping tails of his kimono not hiding much of the body he was proudly displaying even as he eyed Ichigo up and down.

    Ichigo couldn’t help a snort. “We’re the same, you idiot.” Still, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the appealing sight of the pale-skinned cock flushed pink with arousal, jutting up from a small nest of fair hair. The contrast against his sun-browned hand was striking, and gave him an idea.

    Planting his left foot between both of Shiro’s, Ichigo stepped in as closely as he could and dragged the tip of his erection over Shiro’s hip, across his abdomen, and dipping into the crease of his groin, leaving behind a clear, glistening streak.

    Ichigo wasn’t sure what to make of the thought that he was marking his territory, so he put it aside for later.

    “Ya got a kink or two in there I should know about?” Shiro swivelled his hips and bumped his cock against Ichigo’s. The contrast was even more enticing. Wrapping his hand around them both, Ichigo pressed their erections together, sucking in a deep breath at the sensation. Every twitch, every pulse of Shiro’s cock ran straight into Ichigo’s.

    “Now we’re talkin’!” Settling one hand overtop of Ichigo’s, Shiro planted the other firmly on Ichigo’s shoulder, then threw his head back and closed his eyes as he thrust his cock against Ichigo’s in the circle of their grip.

    This was going to be over embarrassingly fast. No amount of mental aerobics could dampen the pleasure rocketing through Ichigo with every push. He lost the battle to stifle the groans that wanted to spill from deep within his chest, and only the intense satisfaction he took from hearing Shiro’s uncontrolled panting and wanting grunts kept him from thinking too hard about it.

    “Fuck, yes, just like that!” Shiro jerked their fists hard; black and yellow eyes opened and fixed on Ichigo – challenging, demanding, and laden with desire.

    Ichigo gritted his teeth as his limbs began to tremble. He wasn’t going to come first, he wasn’t going to come first, damn it all to hell he wasn’t—

    “Nngh!” His wrist ached from the added pressure but he couldn’t stop; his hips snapped forward again and again all on their own, pleasure roaring up his spine and down to his fingers and toes. Through half-lidded eyes, Ichigo saw himself come, ropy white strands erupting, painting warm stripes over their fingers and coating their cocks like sticky icing melting over a cake.

    “Yesss,” Shiro hissed, holding on even tighter, his movements growing jerky and uneven. With a gasping swallow, Ichigo closed his eyes and focused on pumping their hands smoothly, twisting his wrist to swirl his thumb over the head.

    Another grunt and a pulse of Shiro’s cock had his eyes flying open again. Ichigo was torn between wanting to watch Shiro’s release splash against his belly and wanting to see Shiro’s face as he came. He settled for flicking his gaze back and forth, taking in each twitch, each milky spurt that fell to blend with his. A smug feeling settled around Ichigo’s middle at the sight of Shiro’s blissful, open-mouthed expression, one which didn’t fade even after Shiro stilled their hands.

    Still quivering, Ichigo fought to stay on his feet when all he really wanted was to flop to the ground in a boneless heap and wait for his heart to stop thumping a hole in his breastbone. “Wanna…sit down,” he panted.

    “Just one more thing.” Shiro dropped to his knees and, before Ichigo could catch another breath for a question, lapped at their mingled fluids as they dripped down, then closed his mouth over the end of Ichigo’s softening cock and sucked.

    Being struck by electricity would probably be less shocking, Ichigo thought wildly as he grabbed Shiro’s shoulders to keep his balance through the intense burst of overstimulating pleasure that rocked him.

    It was only a moment before Shiro pulled away, swiping his thumb over a shining drop on his chin and grinning as he stuck his thumb up in offering. “Don’t even pretend you ain’t curious, too.”

    Before he could talk himself out of it, Ichigo shot his hand forward and hauled Shiro up by the wrist. “Yeah, I am,” he admitted, then licked at the corner of Shiro’s mouth. “So gimme a taste.” His lips hovered over Shiro’s as he spoke, close enough to tantalize but not quite connecting.

    Not that Shiro would have needed any further incentive, judging by his response. His tongue snaked into Ichigo’s mouth, delving eagerly into every corner, spreading a slightly bitter salt taste. Ichigo welcomed it, and the arm that made a tight circle around his waist. Tangling his fingers in soft white hair, he closed his eyes as he dropped his jaw and fell hard into the kiss.

    It was amazing how long a person could breathe through their nose. Ichigo figured out the trick of it quickly, and as the kiss went on and their hands began roaming – whoa, he’d had no idea that having his ass clutched by fingers with just a hint of pricking nails would be so arousing – he noted that Shiro was showing no signs of slowing, either.

    Just when his dick was beginning to stir again, courtesy of a healthy young libido that was for once working in his favour, Ichigo felt a shift in the energy around them. It was subtle, but enough to make them both freeze on the spot, then reluctantly disengage.

    Shiro bent and pulled his dishevelled hakama back up, not bothering to settle the layers as he wound his sash about his hips. Even though it wouldn’t matter when he stepped out of his inner world and returned his consciousness to his body, Ichigo found himself doing the same.

    “Time’s up, King.”

    Ichigo looked up at the darkening sky. “Guess so.”

    “Ya get what ya wanted?”

    What had he wanted? Ichigo glanced over, taking in the tousled hair, the hint of colour still splashed across pale cheeks, and an impressively dark hickey blooming just above one collarbone. He grinned. “Got what I needed.”

    Shiro turned his back as Ichigo began to shift his focus outward. “Don’t die, Ichigo.”

    “Can’t,” Ichigo replied as his inner world faded, “not until I find out what happened to your underwear.”

    Shiro’s unexpectedly light laughter followed Ichigo as he opened his eyes and rose to answer the call to battle.

END

Star Wars nerdity, knitting, and smut!

2008-10-22T19:01:58Z

I've been busy writing, so I've slacked on posting, but here's some rambling, along with some fun stuff to entertain my fellow geeks. Star Wars nerdity ahead! :)

(Yes I know that's totally the wrong icon, but it's the only sci-fi icon I have right now - I'll fix it later!)

First, we have five reasons why Luke Skywalker is a complete idiot (only five? :P).

Second, there's the coolest Death Star pumpkin you'll see this Halloween.

If only I had 8 hours to blow on a project like this. Alas, I have too much porn that needs writing, gold to earn for my epic mount, and a scarf that - at only 6" long - looks more like a doll blanket. :) I promised Shelagh a pic a week or two ago, but I kept getting distracted. *fails* But no more!

Click for full size, you know the drill.

My mom, enabler that she is, sent me a magazine with patterns for knitted kimonos. I'm going to make myself an uchikake once I get enough practice, so I'm quite looking forward to that.

Puppy, your fic is almost done, I had a breakthrough today! \o/ I hope transparent plot draped over gratuitous smut is ok. *grin*

So, what have you all been up to?

pimpin' Ulquiorra ficlet

2008-10-15T14:51:26Z

visualcomplex wanted prompts. I love offering prompts. A happy solution, which resulted in this ficlet. This one features Ulquiorra solo.

Thanks bunches! I'm glad you found some inspiration. :)

meme

2008-10-08T17:38:52Z

A fun meme, pinched from vayshti.

If you read this, even if we don't speak often or ever, please post a comment with a COMPLETELY MADE UP AND FICTIONAL memory of you and me.

It can be anything you want - good or bad - BUT IT HAS TO BE FAKE.

When you're finished, post this little paragraph in your LJ and see what your friends come up with.