butts

[seventhe]

I had a very weird night that ended in a horrible dream I'm still emotional about and don't want to discuss anymore plus there is still no fucking news so LET'S PLAY A GAME. A COMMENT FIC GAME.

Reply with some subset of characters (one, two, a pairing, a friendship, a team) and some kind of premise or situation and I will write you 3-5 sentences of the fic it would turn into. AU premises are totally welcome right now. The crazier the better. Crossovers, vampire AU, whatever the hell you want.

I'd prefer you leave the comments on DW because it's easier to email-reply from my phone, but I'll deal either way: LJ is totally fine, I'll just be slower.

Stick to fandoms you know I know kthx.

PLEASE DISTRACT ME :(

Comments

[temples]

I AM HERE FOR YOU

Larsa and, um. The dancing girl from FFIV. VAMPIRE AU No, but only if you want to!

[seventhe]

"My lord," she says. "I promise I've said nothing bad about the lords of Baron. Let me," and her dress rustles suggestively; "let me take your mind off the rumors you've heard."

"A tempting offer," Larsa replies, as he reaches out with one gloved hand; takes her hand in his. She catches the glint of too many teeth when he smiles. "Unfortunately, my dear lady, it's hard for me to concentrate on dancing when I'm hungry."

[p_cocincinus]

Squall/Laguna. High school detective AU. (I'm thinking Nancy Drew, Hardy Boys, we would've gotten away with it if it weren't for you meddling kids.) Because why not?

[seventhe]

"Hey, look. My prize student comes to see me after class. What's up?"

Squall closed the door to the history classroom and slouched against the first desk he found, hoping desperately that it didn't look too much like he didn't want to be here. "Need your help."

Mr. Loire beamed. "I'm more than happy to help the smartest kid in--"

"I need to get into the teacher's lounge." Squall said.

Just like that, Mr. Loire dropped the cheerful grin, his focus sharpening like a pencil. "Is this about that missing girl? Selphie, right, second period?"

Squall nodded. "I'm investigating. And," he swallowed, because it sucked to admit, "you helped me before, and I figured you might at least care about her."

Mr. Loire's face was serious, but his eyes twinkled. "I'll help you this time," he replied, "but on one condition. We're a team."

Squall sighed.

...and then said, reluctantly, "Whatever."

"Crime solving," Mr. Loire mused as he dug through his desk for his keys. "Good after-school curricular activity."

[vrazdova]

TROWA WALKS IN ON HEERO BLOWING DUO

UNDERWATER, WITH DOLPHINS

[ser_pounce_alot]

GOD DAMN YOU

DOLPHIN IN YOUR NUTS

[seventhe]

Wednesday nights were busy nights on Trowa's guard schedule. An hour circling the art museum after closing, a three hour stint in the library parking lot, and then a four-hour graveyard shift at the aquarium. It wasn't that he didn't like guard work - he did, especially at night; it was peaceful and full of solitude - but mentally mapping out and checking three places in one night was more exhausting than when he just got to sit at the gate of the police station.

The bonus he got for multiple security checks was hefty, though, and as he keyed his code in at the door and started his rounds, Trowa was only thinking of the sushi he was going to get this weekend with his friends.

The night was quiet and nothing seemed out of the ordinary until he got to the dolphin pen. Usually the dolphins greeted him with tricks in the hopes of getting food - cheeky little fucks - but Trowa noticed they were all crowded into one corner, swimming agitated little circles around one another.

He checked the corners of the boardwalk with his flashlight. Nothing.

Then there was a splash and someone took a long breath of air - and moaned.

Trowa shone the flashlight into the dolphin pool. He followed the ripples in the surface to the corner - opposite where the dolphin family was huddling - and spotted the back of a very familiar head, with a very familiar braid floating out behind it.

"Fuck, Heero," said Duo's voice. "This was the best idea you've ever--mmmm--" Trowa dropped the flashlight.

"Oh, hey," Duo said, turning to face him. "Wanna join?"

CONTINUE THIS, IT'S YOUR DISTRACTION

[ser_pounce_alot]

There are no lights on when he creeps into the hall of the Mammon Machine; only the flickering colors that are escaping the confines of the machine itself, casting dancing shadows on the ornate carpets that cover the stone floor. When he stands in front of the machine, his muscles are trembling with barely constrained rage - because it is here, in front of him, the gateway to the one thing he's spent the last ten years trying to destroy. And he is powerless to do anything to it now. He can only suffer it being here, taunting him, watching him as if it expects the blow to come down upon it.

He doesn't know how long he is there. Somewhere, outside, the Black Wind howls, and he ignores it only because he has become so used to doing so. Maybe the wind is for him - maybe it's always been for him, for the person he used to be, lost so many years ago in a vortex of demon-making. He is startled from his reverie only by footsteps near the door, coming from the main hall, and he doesn't have enough time to melt into the shadows with his hood to avoid being seen.

"Oh," she says, and stops halfway down the path as if she is suddenly unsure of approaching further. Her hands, delicate and thin, are knotted in front of her form, involuntarily reaching for the pendant that hangs heavy around her neck. "I'm sorry, I didn't expect anyone else to be here."

He's still not used to it, being around her again. It's jarring and discomforting, and something tugs within him as if itching to get back to what used to be there, something he isn't sure how to deal with. He didn't remember her so beautiful, with her graceful neck and sharp, clever eyes. He knows that the younger version of himself took everything for granted, expecting that it would always be there, but the rate at which he dismissed details is now astoundingly apparent.

"It's fine," he manages, stiffly, and feels foolish; this is his own flesh and blood, and he is acting like a frightened mutt readying to be kicked.

Schala's hands unwind, and one disappears in the folds of her skirt. "Do you come here when you cannot sleep?"

"No," he says, before he can stop himself. "This place holds no comfort for me."

"Nor me," she admits. She seems almost relieved to admit it aloud, and the syllables escape like a tired sigh. "But Janus' cat often roams here during the night, and I was afraid he would wake to find the creature gone, so I came to find it."

That's a detail he had never known; that Alfador left the safety of his room at night to skulk around the Mammon Machine is news to Magus. He keeps his face schooled into neutrality, hoping that he appears bored - he can command an army of Mystics and hates that he is so weak here, so unable to control his own emotions, now that he is faced with her again.

"I have seen no cat," he forces out between clenched teeth.

The strain is obvious. Her expression pinches in something that might be sympathy, mouth thinning ever so slightly.

"You seem to be hovering at the edge of something. Does my mother work you tirelessly as well?"

She needs to leave, before the churning, off-putting glow of the Mammon Machine strips him of all his inhibitions. He clenches his fingers just to try and keep his mind on something else, digging his nails into his palms; the pain helps a bit, but not enough. He is too used to pain now.

When he doesn't answer, Schala seems to take it as answer enough, and begins to cross the space between them - ever the warm, kind-hearted beacon he remembered. It will get her killed. He knows that soft-heart will get her killed.

Re: CONTINUE THIS, IT'S YOUR DISTRACTION

[vrazdova]

AWWW

YUSSSSSSS

PLEASE DOU CONTINUE

Re: CONTINUE THIS, IT'S YOUR DISTRACTION

[seventhe]

The knowledge, however, is not enough for him to resist as she reaches out and takes one of his hands. Her every gesture is a curious combination of shy and curious and self-assured; here, freed from their mother's tyrannical presence, it is as if it has never occured to Schala that she cannot - or should not - do what she wishes. He cannot stop her, even though he knows it a bad idea, anymore than he could stop himself from breathing.

She bends over his hand almost clinically, and then closes her eyes and whispers a few words; the air hums with it, her gentle spell - is she healing him?

Magus snatches his hand away; he neither needs nor wants her pity, not now: but then he is frozen at the hurt and accusation in Schala's eyes as she looks up at him, surprised into honest offense.

"I am," he begins just as she stammers, "I was just-"

Magus bows his head. "I am sorry," he says. It is all he can offer her, and if the words carry the echoes of centuries, hopefully only he can hear them. "I would not have you waste your strength. You are-" As weary of this as I, he thinks, but does not say. Spent, and weakened with it. "Tired," he finishes, finally and somewhat unsatisfactorily.

Schala's lips curl as if she does not know what to do, but it evens out into an unsure smile. "I am not sure I'd call it a waste," she says, slowly, as if testing the waters between them. "I need what allies I have."

The boldness of the statement floors him for a moment - of what does she speak? Allies in her work for their mother? Allies against her, against the low moan of the machine they stand before? Schala smiles innocently at him and Magus is utterly at a loss.

[vrazdova]

Edgar and Locke having a big gay freakout over a spider and calling Celes over to kill it.

[seventhe]

"How big?"

"Huge. Enormous. Ginormous, even." And in the background: "OH MY GOD HELP, IT LOOKED AT ME"

"Edgar. That is not a word."

"It means 'big enough to eat a castle', Celes. Which it is."

"Compare it to something." A breath, and: "Something real."

She waits. There's a muffled sound and a girlish shriek through the phone: "IT'S MOVING, EDGAR, IT'S FUCKING MOVING, MAKE IT STOP"

"It's the size of a gil piece," Edgar says finally, "and I'll give you three hundred of them if you can get here in the next twenty minutes." From the background she hears: "GIL PIECE? MORE LIKE FOUR THOUSAND GIL PIECES, IT'S --IT LOOKED AT ME AGAIN"

"Fine," she says, and sighs.

[auronlu]

SIN/LUNAR WHALE OTP

Orrrrrr....

Larsa, Palom and Porom take over Coccoon/Church of Yevon/the Wild Rose Army while Hilda is captive/your choice

[seventhe]

OH MY GOD

[seventhe]

"Hey, good looking," Sin said as it sidled up to the bar. "I haven't seen you around here."

Its target made a shrugging motion and turned back to its drink. "Running transport to the moon and back takes up a lot of your time."

"The moon?" Sin was definitely intrigued now. "My usual beat's between dreams and reality, past and present. The moon's pretty trippy."

"Past and present can be a handful," the stranger said. "They call me Luna. Sit down, I'll buy you a drink."

[owlmoose]

FFX/VIII/IV HS AU

[seventhe]

"Well, this is a day," said Lulu, as she closed the door to the teacher's lounge behind her. "Almasy and Leonhart are fighting again."

"You said it. I had to break up a fight this morning between Edge Geraldine and Rydia again," Rikku said sympathetically. "And Ol' Grumpy here handed out a record number of detentions this morning."

"Hmm?" Lulu raised an eyebrow at the literature teacher. "I thought you were above all this ruckus. Who, and why?"

Auron grunted. "Harvey, Farrell, Highwind, Tilmitt, Trepe. Necking, necking, tossing things at people necking, bad language, sass."

"Trepe doesn't sass," Lulu said, surprised that her prize math student would end up with detention.

"She was arguing with Grumps," Rikku interjected. "He didn't feel like arguing back."

"Arguing isn't sass," Lulu couldn't help but point out.

Auron shrugged. Behind him, Kimahri - their phys ed instructor - chuckled. "Auron right. Arguing sass."

"Speaking of necking," Rikku chirped. "Anyone seen Tidus and Yuna yet?"

"It appears that Zell Dincht and Irvine Kinneas blew up the chem lab again," Lulu said delicately. "So Tidus is probably sorting through the wreckage, and..."

"Zell's in the principal's office." Rikku sighed. "Poor Yuna."

"Poor Yuna?" Kimahri asked, with another chuckle. "Trade Yuna."

"You wouldn't," Rikku said. "You'd just get mad at all the students and bash them with hockey sticks and then we'd have, have, lawsuits and lots of crutches. Yuna can just look at them and they get all remorseful and weepy."

"Which is what I hope she'll be able to do when the administrators come through tomorrow," Lulu pointed out. "I dislike the way Mika has been eyeing our budget."

"Art is a dying art," Rikku declared dramatically before slumping over onto the table, and Lulu and Auron shared a look of fond exasperation. There was always something interesting brewing at Zanarkand High. Even if it was just Kinneas' latest attempt at a love potion.

[alwaysbeenasmiler]

Alright Alright Alright `

Cecil (FF4) and Edgar (FF6) - SURVIVAL HORROR ZOMBIES OH MY!

[seventhe]

Cecil wasn't quite sure when it had stopped being the basement of Baron Castle - his castle wasn't perfect, no, but it certainly wasn't this dark shambling mess of pipes and gears - and started being somewhere else. Nor did he really have time to think about it; the undead invasion that had burst into Baron from the Serpent Pass (Mysidia, he thought, one heartbreaking pang) had taken the city too quickly and forced him into the depths of his own home to attempt escape. Unfortunately he wasn't finding Baron's watery pass. Instead there were long dark halls, full of machinery casting twisted shadows on unfamiliar walls -- though of course there was still the lurch of the undead.

His sword bit them clean, but Cecil was still only one. Rosa had told him to clear the path, that she'd follow with survivors; he trusted her to do so: she was a White Mage, dually effective against the undead hoard, and practical enough to make it. So he would clear the way, and wait for her.

Cecil crept down the hallway, moving as silently as he could - a misshapen lump lurched from the wall, and Excalibur struck - another one detached itself from a corner with surprising speed, and Cecil grunted as he swung and missed with a clatter.

"Ho there!" called a voice, faint but distinctly still living, as Cecil spun and cleaved the creature in two.

He turned to see a man, tall and blond, pulling a strange white mask from his face. In his hand was a powerful, almost grotesque-looking instrument, all chains and teeth; but his face was smiling.

"You seem to be lost in my zombie-infested basement," he said, charming but direct, the time of a man who sees more than he wants to reveal. "How did you get here, and did you perchance bring them with you?"

"If you fight the undead, we are allies," Cecil said. "There isn't much time to explain. My queen will be following shortly after me with survivors, and we must be sure the way is clear."

"Allies," the man said, but the smile turned wicked. He made some sort of motion and an evil-sounding growl came from the tool in his hand. "Well, I am King Edgar of Figaro, and I cannot leave a lady in danger, even if she is sadly unavailable."

"Well met, King Edgar." Cecil nodded and hoisted his sword. "I appreciate your assistance. I am Cecil of Baron, and while my wife is no damsel in distress, those with her may be. Let us continue."

"Excellent." Edgar pulled the mask back down over his face and laughed. "And here I had thought Figaro was getting boring."

[madisuzy]

Larsa and Laguna

"Hey, you're cute. Can I adopt you?"

[seventhe]

"Ah," Laguna said, looking up briefly. "Moomba Scouts, right? I'll take three boxes of Mega Mint and four of Choco Chocolate Explosion, but you can't tell Kiros."

The boy in the door shifted his weight slightly. "I apologize," he said, his accent unfamiliar and quite formal. "I believe you're mistaken. I am Lord Larsa Ferrinas Solidor, and I believe you are the President. I have urgent news we must discuss immediately."

"Huh," Laguna said. "No cookies?"

"You seem to be failing to recognize the severity of your current situation," the boy said, shaking his head.

"You're cute," Laguna decided. "Can I adopt you?"

"Sir," the boy said, straightening his spine, "You've been, um. Conquered. By Archades."

I LOVE YOUR COMMENT-FIC GAMES OKAY

[sathari]

Anything with Rosa topping Kain and/or Cecil. Can be an AU setting of your choice. :)

Also, I am tempted to ask for Kain/Rosa/Golbez where the boys are both feeling terribly (which is to say wonderfully) abject and penitent post-game and Rosa can put that to good use. But then I read a comment of yours somewhere else where you were saying you're "meh" about Golbez, so you're under no obligation to take me up on that prompt.

(And man, I am BORING compared to other people's awesome prompts.)

Re: I LOVE YOUR COMMENT-FIC GAMES OKAY

[seventhe]

Ohhhhhh, see, the one spot I find Golbez very interesting is in ships. So you're safe. ;) me and Golbez/Kain(/Rosa) actually have a lot to talk about.

[flonnebonne]

The final FFIV party as Gundam pilots. Because DA MOON.

[seventhe]

Pilot 04's voice crackled over the Lunar Whale's intercom, one bright burst of static. "Incoming! Get to your suits, now!"

Rydia and Edge both shot up from the table, abandoning their lunches - though Edge took his can of soda - and hit the hallway at a run. Rydia punched the communicator on her wrist. "02 and 03 en route," she said breathlessly. "Rosa, what is it?"

"A squadron of Red Wings," her friend's tinny voice replied from her wristband. "No sign of Golbez yet, but the formation's suspicious."

"Great," said Edge from beside her. "Suspicious. My favorite thing."

Hammering footsteps echoed through the halls, and then Pilot 05 joined them, his hair tousled as if he'd just woken up. "Status?" Kain demanded.

Rydia waggled her wrist at him - difficult to do when they were all running - and gasped out, "Red Wings. Squadron. Suspicious."

"Golbez," 05 growled. "Good."

"Not yet," 02 pointed out, and they all slid to a brief stop as Rydia punched the release and the doors to the bay slid open.

She took a brief moment to admire their five Gundams, all in a row, shining and deadly and each different from the other. Rosa, their strategist, was already in the cockpit of Baron, punching in details and running scenarios: Baron was mainly a support Gundam, although it could pack a perfectly aimed shot when needed. Kain had already vaulted up into Holylance and was checking the adjustments on its high-energy spear while it loaded.

As she climbed up into her Bahamut, Rydia could see their leader, 01, Cecil, and his Lunarian Zero; Cecil was already ready, armed with his glowing beam sword and waiting at the outlet door of the bay. Cecil was the only one of them able to operate Lunarian Zero, the odd suit they'd found on the Lunar Whale, although they'd all tried: his old Gundam, Darknight, lay resting in the ship's belly.

She settled into her own Bahamut and strapped in, greeting it with a soft "Good morning" as the screens began to unfold around her. Rosa liked numbers, and Kain liked machinery: Rydia kept her screens set to infrared, detecting heat changes and energy trails, because that's how her Gundam seemed to respond best. Bahamut was a nuker: the others ran interference for her while she laid down the elements she needed and then blew hell out of the enemy squadron in one fell swoop.

Edge's face popped up on her screen. "You ready for this?" She could see he was already settled into his dual-wielding Masamune, swords glowing, his face ready for battle. She didn't know how Edge loaded up his cockpit; it was probably covered with photos of naked women.

"I guess we'll see," she said, flipping the prep switches she needed: fire and frozen water and electricity and explosives hummed beneath her fingers, ready to be called forth in whatever way Bahamut told her was best. "You seem ready."

"Masamune's always ready," Edge said, "and so am I," and he waggled his eyebrows at her.

04's face popped up on her screen with no warning. "Here's the plan," Rosa said. "Cecil, go out strong, draw the first line of attacks. Edge and Kain follow him on heavy offensive: Edge left, Kain right. That should give Rydia enough time to let loose a good solid nuke down the middle. Once they're split, Rydia follow Edge and Cecil follow Kain. I'll hang back and dispatch any loose ends. I'll be watching your vitals, but if you need my aid, signal."

"Right," Rydia said, and the faces of her fellow pilots nodded from their teleboxes on her cockpit window.

The outer door of the bay started to open slowly. Edge caught her eye with one last "Good luck, sweetheart," before turning to his controls and settling in, a look of grim determination on his face. Rydia let her hands hover over her own controls, feeling the energy pulsing back to her, the strength of Bahamut that only she could call forth. Before her, space loomed: dark and gorgeous, filling her with the same disconcerting thrill every time she looked out into it and wanted to fly as far as she could just to see where she'd stop.

"Fight well, Gundam Team," Rosa said. "Cecil, go!"

"Chocobo, we can't just get shitfaced every once in a while, can we?"

[zen_monk]

Katzroy file no. 21, subfolder "off the record": Drinking with Yaag Rosch to get news on how things going in PSICOM and possibly getting new info on the student uprising in Bodhum. Lightning swings by and like usual, she and Yaag are off trying to drink each other under the table. And like usual, Sazh puts himself as designated driver for both of them.

Re: "Chocobo, we can't just get shitfaced every once in a while, can we?"

[seventhe]

All he'd wanted was a friendly drink. Or two. Or a handful of friendly drinks, you know, and some friendly conversation, and some friendly exchanging of information when certain people became too drunk to watch their tongues as closely as they needed.

Instead, Sazh was now the referee of Round Seven of a game of Shots. Shots was not a complicated game. It was, in fact, as simple as it sounded. It did not require a referee. Unless the players were Lightning Farron and Yaag Rosch, that is.

"Dammit, Light, I am not paying for damages," Sazh spat as Lightning tossed her shot glass over her shoulder, not even looking. Luckily for her it only hit the wall, leaving a dent and a small splash of whatever horrible blue concoction had been in the glass in the first place.

"I dare them to charge me," Lightning said, her eyes locked on Rosch's and not wavering.

"Ma'am," came a timid and tentative voice from behind him. "Ma'am, I do have to ask that you--"

Lightning and Yaag both stood up in eerie tandem, crossing their arms and looking down at the poor waitress. They made a strikingly intimidating pair. "Um," she said instead, resigned. "Another round, I guess?"

"You can't handle another round, Farron," said Rosch.

"Make it a double," Lightning said, and she spun her chair around and straddled it, arms folded over the back, cocking her head in challenge.

"May as well." Yaag nodded. "And something for our friend," with a magnanimous gesture at Sazh.

"Oh, no-no-no," Sazh protested. "Somebody's gotta stay sober enough to make sure these two idiots don't burn down Bodhum. I'll have a water."

The waitress left, and Sazh sighed, the gesture echoed by a mournful chirp from his hair. "Oh, Chocobo," Sazh said, "We can't just get shitfaced every once in a while, can we?"

[samuraiter]

The (FF1) Warriors of Light (any combination of genders) as a heavy metal band on the most awesome tour of their lives.

[seventhe]

"HELLO, CLEVELAND!"

The lights came up on the stage all at once: blazingly bright, clear white streaks through the heavy fog. The crowd erupted with screams and shrieks, most of them chanting, "Sara! Sara! Sara!"

There was a loud resounding thum and the lights died, all but one: a gleaming red light pierced the fog, highlighting a tall woman in a red dress and uncannily high heels. Her dark red dreadlocks were piled in coils on her head with one white feather sticking out. The bass guitar she held was red, and glittering, and the light began to flash to the rhythm of her bass, picking up hard until it was doubletime.

The bass drum hit again, and this time a blue light pierced the fog, shining on a slender man with a double-necked guitar. Someone from the crowd shrieked, "I love you, Thief!" and the man grinned and waved before bowing his head and ripping a wicked glissando riff from his strings.

He turned to the red lady and they both jumped for the next drum entrance: when their feet hit the ground, all the lights came on, and the crowd started shrieking again as they caught sight of the drummer - well-muscled and shirtless, pounding away at the double bass and the cymbals - and the other guitarist, a short and stocky woman wearing old plate armor and warrior paint on her face as she thrashed her guitar in the background to Thief's soaring speedy solo.

Then the lights dropped again, and in the quiet of the crowd, someone screamed, guttural and fierce, and held it.

The lights flashed on and this time there was someone in front of the other musicians: tall, dressed in black, headbanging her long hair as she continued to scream. "Sara! Sara!" chanted the crowd.

"HELLO CLEVELAND!" she shouted again, punching her fist into the air. "WE ARE THE LIGHT WARRIORS, AND WE'RE HERE TO ROCK YOUR ASS OFF!"

[sathari]

Okay, I'm double-dipping, but this is too much fun:

Vorkosigan Saga/FFIV crossover/fusion/whatever (okay I have a soft spot for Kain/Rosa/Cecil as Vor and interacting with the Chance Brothers and Co., but if you have a better idea, go for it!)

OMG it just occurred to me that Kain/Rosa/Cecil literally, i.e. as Vor and a poly triad, is kind of the embodiment of Byerly's "something delightfully outre" comment regarding the surplus of bachelor-dudes in Miles' generation, but.)

[radish]

Umm.

Irene Adler and Quistis and whips.