![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
fic: multiple
Challenge: XVII – Disgusting
Title: Human
Word Count: 429
Game: FE6
A/N:
Gonzales was a monster. An ugly, disgusting smelly thing that deserved to be as far away from all life as possible. He knew this because it was all he had ever been told. From birth to the day of his birth until the day he left for those mountains, Gonzales was reminded of every vile detail of himself. He didn’t remember his mother much, just a dirty housewife who had thrown aside the bawling gigantic child when he clung to her legs.
Gonzales couldn’t speak well, he wasn’t very smart or good for anything but heavy lifting. He was ugly. Rotten to the core, some demon-child, they said. People didn’t like him. From when he was a large child lumbering behind them to when he was a gigantic man it remained the same. They threw rocks at Gonzales. They drove him away. Begone, Demon they said. When a small girl had once taken his hand and tried to lead him down the mountain. So he fled away to the mountains like some ogre, what everyone told him he was.
And then a band of marauders found where Gonzales had been hiding in the mountains. They forced him to come along. They forced him to destroy villages and tried to feed rage into him. “Burn em, demon” they said. “Burn them all to the ground.”
It took a small girl to teach Gonzales the truth. Not the first, but the second girl, one with long blue hair and a kind smile. He wasn’t a demon. Gonzales wasn’t ogre or troll. He was human, and that was something that no one could take away from him. Not rock-throwing villagers or razing bandits. She gave him a gift that couldn’t be torn away and for that he dedicated his life to her.
Years later after a war was finished, Gonzales found his home in Ostia. He was deemed the Official Protector, a newly formed position by Ostia’s lady herself. Any assassin or spy that snuck up upon her would be torn in half before the blade ever found her breast.
And it wasn’t merely Lilina who adored their gentle giant. Soon Rina, her own daughter was being lifted up on those Atlasian shoulders and shouting “Higher! Higher!” to her favorite guardian.
Gonzales would never be smart or handsome, never clever or smooth, but he had a place. He was loved, and he was human. And that was all he’d ever wanted.
Challenge: XVII – Disgusting
Title: Making Sense of Senses
Word Count: 1,270
Game: FE9/10
A/N: Searains wanted crack, and I delivered. It grew way too large to post, though. Some of these jokes came along while I was copying it over on aim and yes, I did go there (and there, and there, and there–)
1.
It wasn’t that Ulki was a prude. He wasn’t, really. Living in close proximity to Janaff and Tibarn would’ve cured any priggishness he would’ve had. Ulki couldn’t count the number of times he’d heard things like Oh yeah, you should’ve seen the eggs SHE laid!”
But the fact was, after a long march days of fighting, he wanted to use the night for sleeping. However, his acute sense of hearing did tend to get in the way of this. It seemed every night he was tossing and turning as sounds of Oh, nnn, Ike! or Gallian cats yowling deep into the night. Ulki did not care about other people’s lives, he felt it was no business of his and if they were happy, good for them – but he wished that he didn’t have to hear every minute detail. He really wished that he didn’t have to grit his teeth to Oh, it’s so big in a Heron’s tongue or This should pay off my debt, right, King Kilvas...?” in that honeyed tone. He’d tried cotton in his ears or burying his face into pillows, but it didn’t begin to muffle the events of everyone around him.
When he awoke looking haggard, Janaff could only smirk.
“Busy night, huh?”
Ulki sighed.
“If it bothers you so much, why not just drown them out with a little music of your own?” Janaff said.
Janaff always had the answers.
2. Janaff honestly was not above using his skills in unorthodox ways. If the women’s bathing area just happened to be near where he was scouting, it wasn’t his fault, now was it? He’d also caught dozens of liaisons, consisting of all genders and even Laguz and human relations. If he didn’t hate Kilvas for being a betraying snake, he might have actually gone into business with the old crow. They could’ve made a killing together with blackmail like this.
3. Ranulf woke up the next morning and stretched. The next thing he did (after certain unmentionable and needed things) was take a deep breath of fresh and cool morning air. The scent that assailed him was of pungent musk, that only the most innocent could mistake. And it was everywhere.. Not just one tent, but many of them smelled of this tell-tale sign of a night spent loving.
With the way they were acting, Ranulf wondered that they got any sleep at all.
4. In a tent not too far away, two dragons sipped at tea and were Generally Disapproving. They knew of their Laguz (and beorc) brother’s promiscuity and couldn’t help but shake their heads in prudish disgust. Dragons were noble beings, one who were nearly sexless compared to the rutting of the other Laguz tribes. They didn’t go into heat and looked down upon such matters.
While most thought that Dhengesea closed off from the world to prevent another judgement, the truth was as much of it was to avoid the constant breeding of the others. While alone, they could sniff priggishly, cross their legs and return to their tea and crumpets. They could adjust their monocles without any moans of pleasure to interrupt them. To dragons, sex was a thing for procreation every three hundred years or so. Done in a missionary position with little-to-no-foreplay and over just as shortly. Any other way would be torrid Dhengesea’s close friend may have been a heron, but none of the dragons could defend the utter promiscuity of that race especially. Long lives and beauty were a dangerous combination. The dragons could only shake their heads and steer the innocent eyes of their five-hundred year old children away.
5. Soren would’ve been furious at the sheer amount of inactivity around the camp, but he was too busy claiming and reclaiming Ike. He knew his plan was working about the time he overheard a certain conversation over changing and bathing:
“Whoa, Ike, do you have leprosy?”
“What?”
“No, look, it’s bruises. Someone must’ve really beat him in training!”
“And a most rollicking training it is! I wish to challenge his partner next on my honor as a Crimean Knight!”
“The only training place that would give marks like that is a bed. Those look like a Gallian girl’s scratch marks to me.”
“Are those teeth marks? Whoa, Commander Ike, you really do have a paramour.”
“Pfah, even the little Ikey can find what to do with his dick. How quaint.”
“Some girl you’ve got there, Ike. You shouldn’t let her go.”
From his place, Soren couldn’t keep from smirking. It was the kind of smirk that scared away small children and sent fear into the hearts of the weak. If Soren didn’t have a constant obsession with Ike, he probably would’ve long taken over the world. That was just the kind of person he was.
6. Really, it wasn’t heat or pollen or some whim of a dark god. It was a normal thing to seek comfort on the battlefield, and comrades who saved your lives could become comrades who shared your bed just as easily. Living and dying like this could break social and gender barriers down to the ground. There were plenty of changing rooms or bathing pools to see the contours of the body and the scars of battle.
It was inevitable, really.
The dragons may have shook their heads and returned to drinking their tea, but they were in a minority. Besides, the herons knew better. They were blessed by the goddess with the gift of invulnerability. Despite their many loves, none of them ever came down with any disease of the bed. No weapons could penetrate that armor, unless they were just as blessed.
7. Having enough of it, Ulki finally went to seek help. It was on Janaff’s advice that he made his move towards the healer’s tent.
The fragile beorc lit up when he saw Ulki. “Oh it’s late,” he said. “Are you hurt? Can I help you?”
Ulki shifted. “Just a minor headache.”
The beorc smiled. It was then that Ulki noticed the details he had earlier missed. The beorc’s eyelashes were surprisingly long for a male, and his shape remarkably delicate.
“Come in, I’ll heal you,” the fragile beorc said.
The tent flap closed behind him.
8.
Not only was Ulki cured of his problems, he also slept better that night than he had since he joined the group. His name was Rhys, as Ulki found out. ‘Sickly Beorc’ was just not something you could call out in the throws of passion. He would have to ferry Rhys along more than ever with such an arrangement, but he could take the extra tiredness that came with changing if he could sleep at night.
Nothing changed, but Ulki was let in on the secret so many of the camp had been keeping. Wherever comfort could be found on a battlefield it should be treasured. Dying could happen at any moment – a stray arrow, a wind tome – so what were a few lost hours over a reaffirmation?
Besides, now Ulki knew the reason why they woke up so happy after a night half spent not sleeping. And it was a good secret to be let in on indeed.
Title: Human
Word Count: 429
Game: FE6
A/N:
Gonzales was a monster. An ugly, disgusting smelly thing that deserved to be as far away from all life as possible. He knew this because it was all he had ever been told. From birth to the day of his birth until the day he left for those mountains, Gonzales was reminded of every vile detail of himself. He didn’t remember his mother much, just a dirty housewife who had thrown aside the bawling gigantic child when he clung to her legs.
Gonzales couldn’t speak well, he wasn’t very smart or good for anything but heavy lifting. He was ugly. Rotten to the core, some demon-child, they said. People didn’t like him. From when he was a large child lumbering behind them to when he was a gigantic man it remained the same. They threw rocks at Gonzales. They drove him away. Begone, Demon they said. When a small girl had once taken his hand and tried to lead him down the mountain. So he fled away to the mountains like some ogre, what everyone told him he was.
And then a band of marauders found where Gonzales had been hiding in the mountains. They forced him to come along. They forced him to destroy villages and tried to feed rage into him. “Burn em, demon” they said. “Burn them all to the ground.”
It took a small girl to teach Gonzales the truth. Not the first, but the second girl, one with long blue hair and a kind smile. He wasn’t a demon. Gonzales wasn’t ogre or troll. He was human, and that was something that no one could take away from him. Not rock-throwing villagers or razing bandits. She gave him a gift that couldn’t be torn away and for that he dedicated his life to her.
Years later after a war was finished, Gonzales found his home in Ostia. He was deemed the Official Protector, a newly formed position by Ostia’s lady herself. Any assassin or spy that snuck up upon her would be torn in half before the blade ever found her breast.
And it wasn’t merely Lilina who adored their gentle giant. Soon Rina, her own daughter was being lifted up on those Atlasian shoulders and shouting “Higher! Higher!” to her favorite guardian.
Gonzales would never be smart or handsome, never clever or smooth, but he had a place. He was loved, and he was human. And that was all he’d ever wanted.
Challenge: XVII – Disgusting
Title: Making Sense of Senses
Word Count: 1,270
Game: FE9/10
A/N: Searains wanted crack, and I delivered. It grew way too large to post, though. Some of these jokes came along while I was copying it over on aim and yes, I did go there (and there, and there, and there–)
1.
It wasn’t that Ulki was a prude. He wasn’t, really. Living in close proximity to Janaff and Tibarn would’ve cured any priggishness he would’ve had. Ulki couldn’t count the number of times he’d heard things like Oh yeah, you should’ve seen the eggs SHE laid!”
But the fact was, after a long march days of fighting, he wanted to use the night for sleeping. However, his acute sense of hearing did tend to get in the way of this. It seemed every night he was tossing and turning as sounds of Oh, nnn, Ike! or Gallian cats yowling deep into the night. Ulki did not care about other people’s lives, he felt it was no business of his and if they were happy, good for them – but he wished that he didn’t have to hear every minute detail. He really wished that he didn’t have to grit his teeth to Oh, it’s so big in a Heron’s tongue or This should pay off my debt, right, King Kilvas...?” in that honeyed tone. He’d tried cotton in his ears or burying his face into pillows, but it didn’t begin to muffle the events of everyone around him.
When he awoke looking haggard, Janaff could only smirk.
“Busy night, huh?”
Ulki sighed.
“If it bothers you so much, why not just drown them out with a little music of your own?” Janaff said.
Janaff always had the answers.
2. Janaff honestly was not above using his skills in unorthodox ways. If the women’s bathing area just happened to be near where he was scouting, it wasn’t his fault, now was it? He’d also caught dozens of liaisons, consisting of all genders and even Laguz and human relations. If he didn’t hate Kilvas for being a betraying snake, he might have actually gone into business with the old crow. They could’ve made a killing together with blackmail like this.
3. Ranulf woke up the next morning and stretched. The next thing he did (after certain unmentionable and needed things) was take a deep breath of fresh and cool morning air. The scent that assailed him was of pungent musk, that only the most innocent could mistake. And it was everywhere.. Not just one tent, but many of them smelled of this tell-tale sign of a night spent loving.
With the way they were acting, Ranulf wondered that they got any sleep at all.
4. In a tent not too far away, two dragons sipped at tea and were Generally Disapproving. They knew of their Laguz (and beorc) brother’s promiscuity and couldn’t help but shake their heads in prudish disgust. Dragons were noble beings, one who were nearly sexless compared to the rutting of the other Laguz tribes. They didn’t go into heat and looked down upon such matters.
While most thought that Dhengesea closed off from the world to prevent another judgement, the truth was as much of it was to avoid the constant breeding of the others. While alone, they could sniff priggishly, cross their legs and return to their tea and crumpets. They could adjust their monocles without any moans of pleasure to interrupt them. To dragons, sex was a thing for procreation every three hundred years or so. Done in a missionary position with little-to-no-foreplay and over just as shortly. Any other way would be torrid Dhengesea’s close friend may have been a heron, but none of the dragons could defend the utter promiscuity of that race especially. Long lives and beauty were a dangerous combination. The dragons could only shake their heads and steer the innocent eyes of their five-hundred year old children away.
5. Soren would’ve been furious at the sheer amount of inactivity around the camp, but he was too busy claiming and reclaiming Ike. He knew his plan was working about the time he overheard a certain conversation over changing and bathing:
“Whoa, Ike, do you have leprosy?”
“What?”
“No, look, it’s bruises. Someone must’ve really beat him in training!”
“And a most rollicking training it is! I wish to challenge his partner next on my honor as a Crimean Knight!”
“The only training place that would give marks like that is a bed. Those look like a Gallian girl’s scratch marks to me.”
“Are those teeth marks? Whoa, Commander Ike, you really do have a paramour.”
“Pfah, even the little Ikey can find what to do with his dick. How quaint.”
“Some girl you’ve got there, Ike. You shouldn’t let her go.”
From his place, Soren couldn’t keep from smirking. It was the kind of smirk that scared away small children and sent fear into the hearts of the weak. If Soren didn’t have a constant obsession with Ike, he probably would’ve long taken over the world. That was just the kind of person he was.
6. Really, it wasn’t heat or pollen or some whim of a dark god. It was a normal thing to seek comfort on the battlefield, and comrades who saved your lives could become comrades who shared your bed just as easily. Living and dying like this could break social and gender barriers down to the ground. There were plenty of changing rooms or bathing pools to see the contours of the body and the scars of battle.
It was inevitable, really.
The dragons may have shook their heads and returned to drinking their tea, but they were in a minority. Besides, the herons knew better. They were blessed by the goddess with the gift of invulnerability. Despite their many loves, none of them ever came down with any disease of the bed. No weapons could penetrate that armor, unless they were just as blessed.
7. Having enough of it, Ulki finally went to seek help. It was on Janaff’s advice that he made his move towards the healer’s tent.
The fragile beorc lit up when he saw Ulki. “Oh it’s late,” he said. “Are you hurt? Can I help you?”
Ulki shifted. “Just a minor headache.”
The beorc smiled. It was then that Ulki noticed the details he had earlier missed. The beorc’s eyelashes were surprisingly long for a male, and his shape remarkably delicate.
“Come in, I’ll heal you,” the fragile beorc said.
The tent flap closed behind him.
8.
Not only was Ulki cured of his problems, he also slept better that night than he had since he joined the group. His name was Rhys, as Ulki found out. ‘Sickly Beorc’ was just not something you could call out in the throws of passion. He would have to ferry Rhys along more than ever with such an arrangement, but he could take the extra tiredness that came with changing if he could sleep at night.
Nothing changed, but Ulki was let in on the secret so many of the camp had been keeping. Wherever comfort could be found on a battlefield it should be treasured. Dying could happen at any moment – a stray arrow, a wind tome – so what were a few lost hours over a reaffirmation?
Besides, now Ulki knew the reason why they woke up so happy after a night half spent not sleeping. And it was a good secret to be let in on indeed.
no subject
Re: the second - that is just perfect. I can't even begin to name my favorite part; the herons being total whores and immune to STDs, Ulki being assailed by the sounds of sex all night, the dragons having tea and crumpets, and Leanne having a porn star's dialogue.
(no subject)
no subject
...
...
...
the second one.
THERE ARE NO WORDS.
no subject
YEAH. SKAAAAAAAANKS.
... I just found this. I don't know how I missed it when you posted, but I love you anyway. XD
Drabble? What drabble?
"It was the kind of smirk that scared away small children and sent fear into the hearts of the weak."
And people say he's like his mother. Pffffft.
Re: Drabble? What drabble?