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<\/a>hetalia_kink<\/b><\/a><\/span>! The request was for Poland\/Lithuania, and the prompt was \"five fairy tales involving Poland and Lithuania.\"=====
Five Times
=====
I. The Emperor\u2019s New Clothes<\/b>
\tThe parade was today, and the hussars looked splendid in formation, the sunlight gleaming against the burnished metal of armor and blades alike. Lithuania had insisted that everything be polished for the occasion, had seen to it that the horses were groomed, had checked to ensure that the ridiculous decorative wings of which Poland was so enamored were fixed firmly in place. He\u2019d paid as much attention to his own garb, for this battle had been a victory for them, and it was good for their people to see that they had survived, good to show the troops that even after taking some losses they remained strong. He had combed his hair through and tied it back- had mended the holes that the fighting had left in his cloak- had subjected himself for the day to the garish, useless embellishments currently fashionable in clothing.
\tAnd now, at the start of the event, he sat astride his horse, sword by his side, wondering with no small amount of worry why Poland hadn\u2019t arrived yet and- more troubling still- what precisely the little blonde had meant by the naughty smile and flippant promise he\u2019d offered the last time Lithuania had seen him.
\t\u201cYou have, like, got<\/i> to see it, Liet,\u201d his partner had gushed. \u201cOh my god, just wait. It\u2019s like, totally<\/i> hot.\u201d And he\u2019d refused to speak another word on the matter, refused to allow the conversation to be steered even in the general direction of the outfit that he planned to wear for the day\u2019s celebration.
\tNow, like some terrible omen summoned in response to the thoughts, Poland\u2019s voice rang out across the line of assembled troops: \u201cHey, Liet! Check it out! It\u2019s, like, way awesome, right?\u201d
\tLithuania turned, expression one more of curiosity than dread- for really, his mind assured him, not even Poland would dare to make the day\u2019s event into a farce by showing himself in something too<\/i> outrageous. He was wrong, of course- and the brunette froze as he caught sight of the other nation, mouth slightly agape, cheeks staining a sudden, violent shade of crimson.
\t\u201cPoland<\/i>!\u201d It came as a yelp, and Lithuania\u2019s fingers fell immediately to fumbling at the clasp of his own well-tended cloak. A moment later, it was free, and the fabric billowed out like a cloud to swallow up the little blonde completely.
II. The Boy Who Cried Wolf<\/b>.
\tIt was the scream that woke him- shrill and piercing, in a voice that he recognized as Poland\u2019s but in a tone like none he\u2019d ever heard before. There was no groggy lingering between awake and asleep; there was no time to adjust, or to think things through. Some part of Lithuania\u2019s mind was registering the words behind his partner\u2019s cry even as he lunged from the bed in an awkward stagger, the panicked, \u201cOh my god, Liet- it\u2019s Russia! Russia\u2019s here, Liet, you\u2019ve gotta, like, do<\/i> something!\u201d
\tHe grabbed for the sword on the wall as though the action was driven by instinct, by need, and he did not pause for neither shield nor armor but took the stairs in his bedclothes, two at a time, feeling as though his heart had jumped into his throat and was busily attempting to strangle him. Lithuania barreled into the living room with wild eyes and sleep-mussed hair, the blade half-raised to strike.
\tPoland was sprawled across the couch, legs dangling indolently over one of the decorative arms, feet kicking idly in the air. When Lithuania turned his way, expression a mixture of terror and stifled rage, still searching for the intruder, it was too much for the little blonde. He exploded into laughter, peels of it echoing off through the house.
\t\u201cOh my god,\u201d Poland gasped. \u201cYour face<\/i>. Your face was, like, so<\/i> hilarious.\u201d
III. Hansel and Gretel.<\/b>
\tIn the place where the woods turned into something wild and crooked, the leaves more olive than spring green, there stood a house. It was not a house that the boys had seen before- was not, in truth, at all like anything they had - but it loomed there, larger than life, set back from the path far enough that they had nearly passed it by without noticing. Above the door, strange letters dipped and swirled, making words that neither of them could yet read, and within the window stood high-backed chairs, decorative and gilded, and the walls were hung with portraits of solemn, bearded men in dark uniforms.
\tIt was not the sort of place that inspired confidence- was not a house that radiated welcome in any sense of the word- but the children were tired, and footsore, and hungrier than they could ever remember having been, and before the taller of the two could speak a word of protest, the little blonde by his side was darting forward to knock at the door. Seconds passed in silence; no answer came.
\t\u201cGod,\u201d Poland said, and in the word there was more genuine disappointment than he had meant to let creep through. \u201cYou could, like, open the door or something.\u201d Narrow knuckles rapped again, louder this time.
\tLithuania offered him a smile in consolation, a worried expression that betrayed precisely how much thought he\u2019d given to their predicament already. \u201cMaybe if we waited for a little while? Surely someone will come home tonight.\u201d
\tThe blonde boy made a noise of annoyance in his throat, ran a careless hand through his hair. \u201cI am, like, so<\/i> over being stuck outside. If I\u2019ve gotta sleep on the ground one more night, Liet, I swear I\u2019m gonna-\u201d
\tThe promise that he\u2019d intended to make, however, was never completed, for even as he began to speak it, the door opened, revealing a tall, arched hallway and a man with a pleasant smile and violet eyes. \u201cGood evening, children,\u201d he said. \u201cYou have become lost, yes?\u201d The door opened wider, and the smell of something cooking drifted to them, providing a sharp reminder of how long it had been since last they\u2019d eaten. \u201cDo come in; you must be hungry.\u201d
\tLater, they would wonder how he had known; later, the brunette would wish that he\u2019d voiced the suspicion that tried to drift to the front of his mind. But when the man disappeared into the dim corridor, their eyes met and exchanged a brief glance- and then two small figures stepped forward, timidly, to follow him.
\t
IV. Cinderella<\/b>
\tIt was not at all what he had become accustomed to- the golden lights that dangled from the ceiling, the long tables arrayed with opulent food, the music that made him more homesick than anything had in a long, long while. And of course, Poland was there as well, weaving his way through the other guests in his ridiculous hat and brightly-colored clothing, so reminiscent of days long-gone. He moved like a bird, flighty but graceful, and chattered like one, too, talking of everything and nothing; his laughter carried across the room.
\tAnd when at last he approached Lithuania from behind, laying a hand on the brunette\u2019s shoulder and causing him to startle at the unexpected touch, it was already later than he\u2019d have liked it to be, later than he ought to have stayed at all. \u201cSo the party\u2019s way awesome, right?\u201d said Poland, and he offered up a grin, casually proud.
\tWhen Lithuania smiled in return, it was a tentative thing, a worried<\/i> thing. \u201cIt\u2019s\u2026 very nice.\u201d In his mind, however, he was already counting the seconds- already anxiously wondering how much of a safety cushion he ought to leave himself, just to be sure<\/i>.
\tSuddenly, however, there was a hand in his own, impossibly warm and stronger than it looked, and Poland was dragging him toward the throng of people that had become taken by the music and begun to dance. \u201cPoland-\u201d began the intended protest- but they had arrived already, and the other hand was threading its fingers through his own, and more importantly, he wasn\u2019t sure whether he wanted the little blonde to stop.
\t\u201cYou\u2019ve so gotta come over more,\u201d Poland said, and guided them into a whirl that brought their feet in sync with those of the other dancers. \u201cOtherwise I, like, won\u2019t wanna let you go home.\u201d
\tThe music swelled, and in Lithuania\u2019s mind he was aware of time slipping by- aware that midnight was approaching slow and inexorable- aware that, if he was not home by then, Russia would know he\u2019d been gone.
\t\u201cYou\u2019ll totally stay the night, right, Liet?\u201d
\tLithuania closed his eyes; the words caught in his throat. And midnight drew slowly nearer.
V. Sleeping Beauty<\/b>
\tHe had not called, though it was the most natural thing in the world to reach for the phone. His fingers had learned the number by heart, but now, for the first time in years, he did not need it.
With any luck, he would never need it again.
\tThe walls at Poland\u2019s house, when he arrived, were steeped in climbing vines- vibrant green things, layered with thorns but also kissed with brilliant red flowers. They were a new addition, but Lithuania knew the stones beneath them. He knew the little chip missing where two overzealous boys had swung their swords too near during practice, and he knew that if one searched for the proper footholds in the older segments of the rock, it was not impossible to climb to the roof from here. They had done it before; they had spent nights atop it, watching the stars.
\tLithuania did not knock. Knocking was a thing they\u2019d dispensed with long ago. He simply let himself inside, standing frozen in the doorway as the smells of his childhood washed over him: rye, and dried flowers, and something sharper and more familiar- the particular scent of Poland\u2019s hair, just after he\u2019d washed it.
\tHe could have walked the stairs with his eyes closed; he did not need to count to know that there were fifteen steps, and that the last one creaked slightly when too much weight was put upon it. He ascended them as though moving through water, each footfall deliberate and painfully slow, scarcely daring to believe that this was real. Some portion of him that had been too long taught to expect the worst was waiting for it to end, suspended in a half-cringe of anticipation that he would awaken at any moment from a particularly vivid dream.
\tBut the stairs remained, and when Lithuania reached the top of them, so too did the room at the end of the hall- and the bed- and the little blonde that lay upon it, sleeping soundly.
\tThe sight was enough to remind him why he was here- why, when for the first time in decades he had a house of his own, he had come to Poland\u2019s instead. Because in that moment, it was easy to forget everything that had gone before. It was easy to forget the long centuries he had gone without seeing Poland\u2019s face and recall instead a young blonde boy, tousled and napping in the rye fields when he was meant to be helping with the harvest.
\tLithuania smiled at the sight and at the memories, and carefully he began to move, picking his way to the bed as though the floor were made of spun glass. When at last he stood beside his partner of old, a hand that trembled just a little reached to brush a strand of hair away from the sleeping nation\u2019s face.
\tAnd then, with a tenderness that he\u2019d never truly forgotten, even after all this time, he leaned down to kiss Poland awake.
Historical note<\/b>: Part 1 takes place during the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth. The hussars were the cavalry<\/a> of the era, and featured decorative wings on their armor, as pictured in several Hetalia strips. Here\u2019s<\/a> how it looked in actuality, and not as an artist\u2019s representation. Part 2 is also during the Commonwealth, and foreshadows the Partitions of Poland in 1795. Part 3 is very, very loosely representative of the Partitions
Rating: G
Warnings: Countries. Personified.
Teaser:
Author's Notes: My first full Hetalia fic not written for the kink meme. I scribbled most of this down on scraps of paper during my lunch break at work, because after reading the little tidbit of information in the historical notes, the idea wouldn't go away.
By the way- if you don't like countries being personified? Steer clear.
=====
The Importance of Symbolism
=====
\t\u201cSee? It\u2019s, like, totally awesome.\u201d Poland tipped the shield forward to display it to better effect, holding it earnestly in two pale hands. \u201cI mean it, Liet- the Teutonic Knights are gonna be way scared. If you saw this thing coming at you, you\u2019d totally run away, right?\u201d
\tLithuania considered it for a moment, mouth turned down at the corners and brow furrowed in thought, wondering whether the thing attached to the shield could possibly be what he thought it was. When he decided that there really was no other possibility, he tried on a diplomatic smile. \"It\u2019s very- large,\u201d he agreed dubiously. \u201cBut I\u2019m not entirely sure that it\u2019s frightening.\u201d
He stared at Poland\u2019s shield again, willing it to suddenly make sense. It did not.
\u201cActually,\u201d he added reluctantly, a portion of him as yet unsure whether he really wanted to know, \u201cI can\u2019t say that I\u2019m very clear on why you have an eagle on your shield in the first place.\u201d
\t\u201cWell, duh.\u201d From somewhere beneath his cloak, Poland produced a stick of paluszki and began to munch on it, casually. \u201cIt\u2019s, like, my symbol or something. Just like you\u2019ve got that guy on a horse. It\u2019s way hot for morale to put your symbols on stuff.\u201d
\tLithuania did not lift his eyes from the shield. He felt, ridiculously, that if he looked away, it would somehow become worse- bigger, or more flamboyant, or in some way less practical, though he was hard pressed to imagine how. \u201cBut usually they\u2019re painted on, you know. The symbols.\u201d
\t\u201cThat\u2019s what I said, too!\u201d the little blonde agreed, and brandished his snack like a sword, the motion a rush of cheery enthusiasm. \u201cBut then I was all, \u2018There's gotta be something better than paint.\u2019 And oh my god, the answer just like, came to me.\u201d
\tHe had spent enough time with Poland, during the years when they had been much smaller, that he did not have to search his partner\u2019s face to see whether it was a joke. There was an earnestness that came with the other nation's more unreasonable ideas that could leave no doubt as to that. \u201cAnd so you thought,\u201d Lithuania surmised quietly, in a voice that did a very reasonable job, he thought, of keeping the disbelief at bay, \u201cthat it would be best to put a whole eagle on top of your shield.\u201d
\t\u201cIt\u2019s wicked cool, right?\u201d Poland finished eating, casually licked the crumbs from his fingertips, and grinned, pride and self-satisfaction giving his face a fox-like quality.
\tWhen his partner pressed the shield toward him, Lithuania took it with reluctant hands- immediately felt it tip forward, unbalanced, with the weight of the bird. \u201cYou stuffed it?\u201d he asked uncertainly, and stroked a finger along one of the folded wings. The eagle\u2019s glass eyes watched him do it, gleaming blankly in the sockets, and Lithuania looked up just in time to see his partner\u2019s enthusiastic nod.
\t\u201cI, like, got someone else to.\u201d From beneath the cloak came another stick of paluszki, and Poland got most of this one in his mouth in a single bite, proceeding to talk around it uninterrupted. \"But it\u2019s totally the same, right?
\tLithuania did not grant that a reply, instead running a finger over the bird\u2019s feet with a grimace. \u201cDid you really have to nail it on?\u201d
\t\u201cOh my god, Liet. Like I\u2019d have used nails if something else would\u2019ve worked? Duh. It\u2019s totally not cool if you can see them.\u201d The rest of the snack vanished into Poland\u2019s mouth, and he chewed briefly- swallowed. \u201cSo at first I was all like, \u2018It\u2019s way better if you dunno how it\u2019s on there. It\u2019ll look, like, natural or something.\u2019\u201d
Lithuania examined the foot closely- took in the clumsy way the rough iron had been driven in. It was plain that this part, at least, Poland had done himself. \u201cAnd that didn\u2019t work?\u201d he found himself asking faintly.
\u201cJeez- hold on, I\u2019m getting there. You're way pushy today.\u201d A third paluszki appeared to follow the others, crunching loudly. \u201cSo I was thinking and at first I was all, 'It's gonna suck, like, majorly<\/i> with the nails.' So I totally tried that stuff you make cake with-\u201d
\u201cFlour? Eggs?\u201d Lithuania\u2019s mind tried to force itself into his partner\u2019s version of logic, sifted sand uselessly for several heartbeats before striking gold. \u201cHoney?\u201d
\u201c-yeah, that. But it totally wasn\u2019t sticky enough and I got feathers, like, everywhere<\/i>.\u201d Poland finished eating and reached to take back the shield, oblivious to the incredulity and unease that his words were beginning to cause. \u201cSo I did the nails, cause there like, wasn\u2019t any other way. And y'know? It's, like, totally fine. You so can't even see them.\u201d
There was a silence that lasted longer than it ought to have gone on. It was a deep silence. It was a silence prompted more by the sudden conviction on Lithuania\u2019s part that the honey would have to be thrown out than the reason to which Poland attributed it: naked admiration.
\u201cPoland,\u201d he tried at last. \u201cHave you used<\/i> the shield yet?\u201d
\u201cNah.\u201d Poland rapped on the object in question with his knuckles, grinning narrowly, half-lidded eyes alight with triumph. \u201cBut it\u2019ll be way awesome, for sure. I keep, like, picturing that guy\u2019s face. It\u2019s gonna be totally hilarious.\u201d
\u201cWell, yes.\u201d The words came slowly, as though Lithuania were drawing them one by one from a bag. \u201cBut it is<\/i> awfully heavy, you know. And an eagle isn't exactly the easiest thing to- well, to balance.\" He paused, giving that time to sink in, watched the little blonde's face to see whether the words were making any impact. \"You don\u2019t think it might be a bit difficult to fight with?\u201d
\u201cIt\u2019s gonna be fine, Liet. You\u2019re like, pretty strong, right? And I totally kick ass.\u201d Poland stroked the dead bird along one wing, as though it was a favorite pet. \u201cYou worry, like, way too much.\u201d
\u201cLet\u2019s test it first, at least.\u201d The smile on Lithuania\u2019s lips had been strained already, but now it grew tense as well, brow lowering worriedly. \u201cHere- I\u2019ll go and get your armor, all right? We can go a few sparring rounds, just to be sure.\u201d
He had actually turned around to do just that- had taken three steps back toward their house when the sound of hooves approaching at a gallop caught his ears. He froze, shoulders tight and eyes wide, thoughts racing along a path that convinced them, briefly, that nobody\u2019s luck could possibly<\/i> be that bad.
But certain enough, the cry of alarm rose up from the gates: \u201cThe Teutonic Knights!\u201d And Lithuania closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and reached for his sword.
In the end, Poland was right about one thing: the expression on the face of their opponent when he caught sight of the shield most certainly had something to do with hilarity.
Historical Notes<\/b>: During the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth, one of the identifying characteristics of hussar armor was the decorative bird wings adorning it. In the mid to late 1500's, however, real bird wings were used to decorate the shields, and one account notes hussars struggling with the weight of a whole stuffed eagle.<\/small>","comments":"https:\/\/asidian.livejournal.com\/30574.html?view=comments#comments"},{"guid":"https:\/\/asidian.livejournal.com\/29959.html","pubDate":"Wed, 18 Mar 2009 14:02:23 GMT","title":"Fic: Make Me Whole Again","author":"asidian","link":"https:\/\/asidian.livejournal.com\/29959.html","description":"Pairing: Canada\/Lithuania
Rating: PG
Warnings: Countries. Personified. You dun like? Steer clear.
Summary: A cake, a kitchen.
Author's Notes: Still going with my stuff written for
<\/a>hetalia_kink<\/b><\/a><\/span>! The request was for Canada\/Lithuania, inspired by the song \"Baker, Baker\" by Tori Amos.=====
Make Me Whole Again
=====
The kitchen was radiant in the morning, the sunlight streaming slanted and golden in through sheer curtains to leaves pools of light on the tasteful beige countertops. Flour had been laid out, and brown sugar, eggs, and cloves; already some of the ingredients had been measured into bowls, tipped carefully into cups, the excess scraped even. It was an exercise in precision, for the two figures that stood in the room, hair burnished to lighter shades by the glow of daylight, were the sort of people to pay attention to such things. They did not speak as they worked, slender fingers dipping and pouring and stirring, spoons occasionally retrieving small samples to ensure that all was according to recipe. At long last, satisfied, Canada scraped the excess icing from a long wooden spoon and set the bowl beside another that contained cake mix.
It had been a comfortable silence, a gentle thing, and even when it was broken the words did not seem intrusive. \u201cLooks like we\u2019re about ready to go, eh?\u201d
\u201cThe oven\u2019s heated.\u201d Lithuania confirmed, and he reached to open its door, searched briefly about for an oven mitt and slipped his hand inside to pull the rack from within it.
The Canadian gave a polite nod of thanks to his guest and began to scoop the cake batter in long, pale ribbons into the pan. It spread across the bottom, filled up all the empty space; he gave it a careful pat, smoothing it even before handing it to the other boy, who slid it into the oven with habitual care.
When it had settled into its expected place, the steady, measured ticking of an egg timer marking the pass of seconds, Canada moved to the sink, stacking dishes as he passed. He ended with a balanced armful, set them all down at once, turned on the water and squeezed in more soap than was probably necessary. The stream of it was almost too hot, hot just this side of burning, for outside the air was chill for all the beauty of the sun\u2019s efforts, and Canada had always found that there was little to fend off the cold fingers that his country induced like a good sinkful of dishes.
There was a mild sort of surprise when Lithuania\u2019 hands slipped beneath his, deft and firm and tentative all at once, to claim half of the washing and the extra sponge. For a moment, Canada\u2019s eyes lingered on the Lithuanian\u2019s face, wide aqua behind glasses that only accentuated the brilliant hue, and a part of his mind began to make noise about it being bad manners to let a guest help with the washing up. He half suspected that the boy would take it as a rebuke when none was intended, however- and so he accepted the help with a smile, expression warm.
This task, too, was completed in silence, two sets of pale hands sliding over plates and bowls and spoons until half the newly clean tableware rested on a towel upon the counter, dripping, staining the fabric beneath them a darker shade of powder blue.
It was with the feel of someone cleaning an open wound, probing to make certain that the treatment won\u2019t hurt too badly, that Lithuania\u2019s words ventured to the surface at last, breaking the hush so tentatively that it might have been a crime. \u201cYour brother\u2026 couldn\u2019t make it?\u201d
The words brought a small smile to the corners of Canada\u2019s lips, soft and not entirely honest- an expression for the shape of it, rather than the feel. \u201cHe\u2019s busy, I\u2019m sure. Off in New York or LA, moving too fast and doing too much.\u201d
Lithuania watched the other boy, a sidelong glance shuttered with dark lashes, and reached for the last bowl. \u201cBut you said\u2026?\u201d
\u201cI did.\u201d And he had. Because the piercing stare of Russia\u2019s purple eyes might have withered ghosts, and there had been some awful glimmer of hope in Lithuania\u2019s, some lingering optimism that perhaps the missing nations might yet arrive on time for the conference. That, if only for a little while, he would not have to return home.
It had been easy to offer him another place to be instead, easy to add on that little bit of a lie to deter Russia from accepting the offer as well. And now there was a kitchen with just the two of them, and soon there would be a cake bigger than they could finish on their own. \u201cPlans change though, eh?\u201d
After the sponge swiped the bowl in Lithuania\u2019s hands a last time, he reached thoughtfully to turn off the water, set the final dish to dry with the rest. His face seemed unable to decide the appropriate response to the words, for it flickered briefly from understanding to anxiety, slipping finally into something that flirted with gratitude.
When the kiss came, a sweet, closed-mouthed thing born of thanks and the pleasant safety of a sunny kitchen, Lithuania\u2019s lips were surprisingly warm, unexpectedly soft. He pulled away again bare seconds later, cheeks stained as crimson as those of the boy he had kissed, and Canada licked his lips unconsciously, tongue chasing the lingering remembrance of a touch. The taste was sweet, mild and spicy all at once, the taste of the icing that they\u2019d made together.
Canada wondered whether he tasted the same.","comments":"https:\/\/asidian.livejournal.com\/29959.html?view=comments#comments"},{"guid":"https:\/\/asidian.livejournal.com\/29463.html","pubDate":"Wed, 18 Mar 2009 13:40:52 GMT","title":"Drabble: History According to Poland","author":"asidian","link":"https:\/\/asidian.livejournal.com\/29463.html","description":"Pairing: Poland\/Lithuania
Rating: PG
Warnings: Countries. Personified. You dun like? Steer clear.
Summary: Poland gives a puppet show.
Author's Notes: Continuing the effort to be able to find my own fics, this is another I wrote for
<\/a>hetalia_kink<\/b><\/a><\/span>. The request was for Poland\/Lithuania, with them playing with puppets.=====
History According to Poland
=====
\t\u201cThis is, like, totally normal for me,\u201d said Russia, and half a glass of ice cubes fell on his head. \u201cYou wanna pick a fight in winter? I\u2019m gonna be like, \u2018Oh my god, are you thinking<\/i>?\u2019\u201d
\tIn reply, Germany stooped and picked up one of the chunks of ice in his mouth. It was a poor fit, and his cheeks swelled with the effort. Without a word, he spit it at the larger nation; the ice flew in a perfect arc to strike Russia\u2019s right eye. It was a direct hit, and the eye teetered uncertainly for a moment before it came off, a purple button spinning to the floor.
\tRussia turned to stare at it, face comically near, with the only one that remained to him. \u201cOh no, you didn\u2019t<\/i>. You are gonna be way sorry for that.\u201d And with no further word of warning, he scooped up the eye in his own mouth and proceeded to beat Germany into a shapeless mass on the floor.
\tPoland withdrew his hand from the crumpled form of Germany and, free of the puppet, reached out to snatch up a piece of ice; he popped it casually into his mouth to suck on it. \u201cSo that\u2019s, like, the second World War,\u201d he concluded, and used the same hand, fingers still wet, to ruffle Sealand\u2019s hair. \u201cNext how bout that time me and Liet took Moscow? 1610 was way cool, oh my god.\u201d
The blonde turned to grin at his partner, the smile a mischievous flash of teeth. \u201cRemember that? And before the siege started I, like, totally did you on Russia\u2019s-\u201d
\tLithuania squawked and clapped his hands over Sealand\u2019s ears. And privately, he resolved never to babysit again- no matter how<\/i> much Finland begged.
Historical note<\/b>: Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth troops held Moscow from September 27, 1610 to November 4, 1612, after a series of invasions of Russia, who was weak due to the ongoing Times of Troubles. Eventually, they were driven out by a siege.<\/small>","comments":"https:\/\/asidian.livejournal.com\/29463.html?view=comments#comments"},{"guid":"https:\/\/asidian.livejournal.com\/29183.html","pubDate":"Sun, 15 Mar 2009 15:33:23 GMT","title":"Fic: Different Smiles","author":"asidian","link":"https:\/\/asidian.livejournal.com\/29183.html","description":"Pairing: Poland\/Lithuania
Rating: PG
Warnings: Countries. Personified. You dun like? Steer clear.
Teaser:
Author's Notes: I am so tired of not being able to find my own fics, so I am just going to post my
<\/a>hetalia_kink<\/b><\/a><\/span> stuff here, too. I give up. orz=====
Different Smiles
=====
\tLithuania had a wardrobe full of smiles, and Poland had seen them all. His partner took them out and slipped them on when he needed them- now nervous, now exasperated, now fond, now peaceful. There was a smile for every occasion, and once upon a time, Poland had known the meaning of each and every one. He had known the smile that meant he could get away with not doing his share of the chores, the smile that came before a goodnight kiss, the dazed smile that only ever showed itself when Liet lay exhausted and sweaty, curled up naked beside him in bed.
\tBut on the day that Poland had plucked a handful of rue and tied it with one of his hair ribbons, on the day he\u2019d availed himself of a bottle of midus intended for a gift, on the day in 1990 when he\u2019d rapped brightly on the door of Lithuania\u2019s new house, the face revealed by the opening door had held a smile he\u2019d never seen before. It was a tired smile, framed by a mouth set too grimly and eyes lined beneath. It was a broken smile, an expression that had been cobbled together from memories long gone- but not successfully. Not entirely.
\tIt was the smile that Lithuania was wearing now, and Poland hated it with the same sick twist of unease that he had felt the first time, hated it in a way that made him want to chase it away- with words, or kisses, or kindness.
\t\u201cThat apron is, like, not cute at all on you,\u201d he said instead, because it was easier. \u201cYou should so get a different color.\u201d
\tLithuania glanced up sharply from where he stood outlined against the window; he had been somewhere else, somewhen<\/i> else, and the memories lingered in his eyes before he blinked them away. The smile wavered, slipped away to be replaced with a perplexed little frown- and Liet reached around to tug the article in question down in front. \u201cIt\u2019s not an accessory, you know. It\u2019s to keep me from getting food on my clothes.\u201d
\t\u201cTch.\u201d Poland uncoiled from the couch like a cat stretching, padded across the floor until he reached the brunette. The smirk that crossed his lips was insolent, accentuated with half-lidded eyes. \u201cYou could totally pull off pink, though.\u201d This time it was Poland whose hands took the garment by its hem, pinched it between two fingers and shook it, the gesture playful. \u201cAnd like, if it was just for cooking? You so would\u2019ve left it in the kitchen when you finished.\u201d
\t\u201cWell, there\u2019s no sense in taking it off if I have to clean up out here anyway.\u201d One of Lithuania\u2019s eyebrows quirked downwards to favor Poland with a look that bordered on exasperation.
\tIn reply, the little blonde grinned at him unrepentantly. \u201cAnd now you\u2019re gonna be all like, \u2018Oh my god, Poland, do more chores,\u2019 again, right? You are way predictable.\u201d
\tThe fact that a protest was coming showed itself in the way Lithuania drew himself up, in the way he opened his mouth as though to speak- but Poland took advantage of the moment in order to step in closer, erased the distance between them with a movement both decisive and sensual. The touch of Poland\u2019s tongue along Liet\u2019s lower lip, mischievous, stilled whatever words he had intended, and a surprise both mild and amused filled the brunette\u2019s eyes.
It did not linger there for long; Poland pushed himself up onto his toes in order to kiss his partner properly, a slow kiss, a deep<\/i> kiss, a kiss that became a thorough exploration of teeth and lips and tongue. And by the time it had finished, there was something much warmer in eyes of forest green, a kindling spark of want.
\u201cSo, like, don\u2019t make any plans tomorrow, Liet.\u201d Poland leaned forward, letting his partner take most of his weight. This close, he could feel that Lithuania\u2019s breathing had picked up a notch, was aware of the pressing hardness when he rubbed his thigh just so against the center of the apron. That gained him a soft sound in response- not a moan, not quite, but he\u2019d be able to coax enough of those free in time, if he had some patience. \u201cWe\u2019re gonna go shopping.\u201d
\u201cI-if you really want to.\u201d The response was distracted- adorably so- and the little blonde took the opportunity to compound the problem, tilting his head in so that he could lap gently at the line of Lithuania\u2019s neck. He felt the shudder as it rose up in response to the touch, worked his way up to a spot that had always driven the other man wild. He lingered here until he was<\/i> rewarded with a moan, and when he pulled back it was to discover that Liet was flushed already, was making an effort not to pant.
\u201cI totally knew you\u2019d see it my way.\u201d Poland\u2019s grin was fond and triumphant both at once, eyes half-lidded.
And when Lithuania smiled in answer, a cautious thing that ventured to the corners of his mouth as though frightened of being spotted, it was yet another new expression, something not entirely like anything Poland had seen before.
This time, Poland discovered as he leaned in to cover it up with a kiss, it did not bother him at all.","comments":"https:\/\/asidian.livejournal.com\/29183.html?view=comments#comments"},{"guid":"https:\/\/asidian.livejournal.com\/28771.html","pubDate":"Sun, 22 Feb 2009 15:37:40 GMT","title":"Hetalia drabble meme","author":"asidian","link":"https:\/\/asidian.livejournal.com\/28771.html","description":"Put your playlist on random. Write a drabble for the next ten songs that come up, and they must be finished when the song has finished.<\/i>
Pairings: Poland\/Lithuania, America\/Canada, Hungary\/Austria, Russia, Sealand, Prussia, Belarus.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: ...countries. Personified. If it's not your thing? Give it a miss.
Summary: Ten songs, ten drabbles.
Author's Notes: So, uh. First time in forever posting, and I've found a new fandom. This is actually my first time writing for this series non-anonymously and outside of
<\/a>hetalia_kink<\/b><\/a><\/span>. <\/a>beanclam<\/b><\/a><\/span> and I used the same songs and did the meme together, and I'll hopefully pester her into getting hers scanned soon. So, yeah. This. =====
Drabble Meme
=====
NO ANGELS
\u201cI Wanna be Daylight in Your Eyes\u201d<\/b>
\tBeneath the slits in the shade the light streamed into the bedroom heavy and golden, the sign of a day that was well on its way to afternoon already. In the covers still on the bed, there was a man who was not a man entangled with the sheets; where there were creases, so too were there limbs, and his hair was as tousled as the blankets, a muss of golden that would not have looked out of place as a hue of the sunlight slipping into the little room.
\tCanada had not wanted to wake him. From experience, after all, he knew that it was a difficult task, and his brother was prone to ill moods before he\u2019d gotten coffee in him, but it was a special day- and the pancakes on the plate balanced on one hand were likely to get cold if he lingered for too long without saying anything at all.
\tAnd so he stepped forward, feet silent on the carpeted floor, and touched his brother\u2019s shoulder, giving a little shake. \u201cAmerica?\u201d And when a single eye opened to peer at him, groggy and bleary with sleep, he smiled in response.
\t\u201cHappy birthday.\u201d
=====
One Piece
\u201c Pandaman\u201d <\/b>
\tIt had been a reasonable expectation.
\tIt had been an expectation that he\u2019d rather thought could not in any sane universe be dashed as neatly to pieces as it just had been.
\tBut Lithuania\u2019s universe, he reflected sadly, had long since stopped being a sane one, and the proof lay in the contents of the room before him: the brightly colored spandex suits that covered the bodies of otherwise reasonable countries, red and green and blue and yellow. And pink<\/i>.
\tBut if it had ended there, he might have let it pass as one more in an endless stream of tiny insanities that made up the fabric of his life. It did not, however- for evidently, some time in the thirty minutes it had taken him to visit the store and pick up the sandwiches and soups that everyone had wanted for lunch, it had evolved into something immeasurably ridiculous.
\tIt might have been passable. Might have been bearable<\/i>.
\tBut now- now<\/i>, under the pink spandex, Russia had donned the panda suit as well- and nothing, Lithuania swore to himself, could ever be the same again.
=====
The Bangles
\u201cHazy Shade of Winter\u201d<\/b>
\tThere had been a time when his army was his pride- a force to be reckoned with, a sight that had been recognized across Europe and which inspired fear in the viewer. He had been younger, then- sharper. There had been something more confident in his laughter, something brighter in his eyes, but that seemed ages ago by now, a different time, a different life.
\tIt was not the same now- was not the same, he\u2019d discovered, now that his own house was not there to greet him when he returned home. And much as West had given him concessions, much as he appreciated the hospitality, it was still something of a blow to Prussia\u2019s pride every night he spent on the couch, every time he had to ask for money to go shopping.
\tHe was a war state, after all. And without war, even one as brilliant as he\u2019d once been was sure to lose his luster.
=====
Wicked
\u201cDancing Through Life\u201d<\/b>
\t\u201cI\u2019ll, like, do it in a minute, Liet. I\u2019m busy now.\u201d
\tBehind him, Lithuania sighed, and bent to pick up the hairbrush that had slipped unnoticed to the floor; there were four more on the couch beside the little blonde, however, so he scarcely noticed that the one had fallen. \u201cOh, honestly, Poland- you said that yesterday.\u201d
\t\u201cBut I, like, totally mean it this time.\u201d One of the boy\u2019s slender hands twirled at the curler in his hair. \u201cIt\u2019s so worth it- it\u2019s gonna be totally fabulous when I finish.\u201d
\tLithuania tried on a diplomatic expression, one that was not quite a frown but did not manage to be entirely fond. \u201cCan\u2019t you take something seriously<\/i> for a change?\u201d
\tHalf-lidded green eyes blinked up at him, guileless and bewildered. \u201cLike, why would I?\u201d
***
\t\u201cIs it so unreasonable,\u201d Austria mused aloud, stepping into the wreckage that his kitchen had become, \u201cto expect that my house remains in the same state that it did when I went to sleep?\u201d
\t\u201cIt\u2019s totally under control!\u201d Poland assured him, and scooped some of the dough from the floor and back into a mixing bowl. \u201cI\u2019ll so have everything ready in time for breakfast!\u201d
\tAustria fixed him with an appraising look and stepped from the kitchen.
\t\u201cJust, like, don\u2019t look at your piano yet!\u201d
***
\tPiercing violet eyes fixed the little blonde with a look that would have withered any other nation, and Poland stuck his tongue out, either not noticing the threat or honestly not caring.
\t\u201cYou wanna, like, growl about something? I\u2019ll give you something real good if you\u2019re gonna keep bugging us anyway. I said it before, and I\u2019ll say it again- keep your hands off Liet!\u201d
\tAnd with that, the boy turned his back to the spigot raised in threat and walked away.
=====
Brad Kane
\u201cThis Close\u201d<\/b>
\tIt had been years- centuries, and oh, how the world had changed.
\tIt was not the place it had used to be, and he? He was not the nation he had once been, either. There had been a time when he was tiny but strong as steel, a time when he had been more confident than he\u2019d any right to be that someday he would stand alongside those that had made themselves global powers. He\u2019d dreamed of wealth, of recognition, of success. He\u2019d dreamed of a proper government, of a house of his own, large and rich and welcoming.
\tHe had not paused to think, back then, about the scars that the others had borne to get where there were. He had not stopped to think about the centuries of war that had come before he\u2019d even existed. He had not paused to look at their faces, in the moments when they let drop their guards, had not seen the lines beneath their eyes or the way that their mouths fell, unhappy, ringed with a tension that never truly left them.
\tBut Sealand had had time, and like all things, he had grown up, grown into something else entirely.
\tHe had not understood- but wars of his own had made sure that he did now.
=====
The Donnas
\u201cTake it Off\u201d<\/b>
\tHe moved to comply, but when his hands hesitated at the buttons, Hungary\u2019s closed over them, and she smiled at her husband, a predatory smile, the smile of a nation that had once been strong and confident and not at all the demure little thing she pretended to be. She made short work of the buttons- stripped the shirt from his shoulders and let it fall to the floor, and then took a step back, surveying her handiwork.
\t\u201cThe pants, too,\u201d she told him, sweetly, and watched as Austria\u2019s hands moved to do as she\u2019d asked.
\tShe did not turn to open the drawer in her end table- did not want him to know, yet, that she\u2019d bought something special for the occasion.
\tThere would be time enough for that later.
=====
Great Big Sea
\u201cIt\u2019s the End of the World as We Know It\u201d<\/b>
\t\u201cWhat the bloody hell,\u201d said England, and pointed an accusatory finger at the storefront in the middle of London, \u201cis this?\u201d
\t\u201cIt\u2019s great, isn\u2019t it?\u201d America replied, the easy smile overtaking his face, blue eyes bright and wide, optimistic behind his glasses. \u201cI guess your people love them as much as mine do. See- I told you they were a great idea.\u201d
\t\u201cIt\u2019s the end of the world,\u201d England declared, gloomily. \u201cAnd you brought it here.\u201d
\tAnd the Starbucks remained where it sat, across from a second Starbucks.
=====
No Doubt
\u201cUnderneath it All\u201d<\/b>
\tThere were sides of themselves that no one else had ever seen.
\tPoland was not the boy that grew tongue-tied when he tried to be too pushy in public, was not the one to flush a brilliant red and hide away from the world- not always. And Lithuania was not the sensible one, the reasonable one- not every hour of every day. In private, behind the walls that they had put up between themselves and the world, they were something else entirely- something stronger, something fuller, something more complete.
\tThey were more themselves<\/i>, Lithuania had once been tempted to say, but he had not, and discarded the phrase as trite, overly romantic. Something that Poland was apt to tease him over.
\tIt seemed truer now more than it ever had before, after the years that had come between them. Truer now that they had lived apart for so long with others that had changed them in ways both were entirely unable to overlook.
\tAnd now, on the nights that they spent together in the same bed- not in their house, but Poland\u2019s or Lithuania\u2019s- he understood why he had thought it.
=====
Era
\u201cThe Mass\u201d<\/b>
\tIt was a stately old building, with high arching windows. The gardens outside had been well-tended once upon a time, but now the snows of winter had taken them over, and everything lay beneath a layer of white, suspended as though the change of the seasons had sent a messenger of frost to steal the life from the world.
\tAnd there, on the bench which might have provided a pleasant view of the church on a summer\u2019s day, sat a man in a scarf, silent and unmoving. He had been there long enough for the snow to collect on his shoulders, and it dusted his hair as well, turning the already pale ash blonde closer to white.
\tLithuania hesitated before approaching, footsteps stuttering in the snow and making his tracks uneven. But he did it all the same- ducked his head, tried on a smile that was nothing near to cheerful.
\t\u201cThe paperwork you wanted finished is in your study, sir,\u201d he told the man quietly. \u201cAnd dinner is ready.\u201d
\tIt was as though he had not heard. \u201cDo you see the birds, Lithuania?\u201d The smile was peaceful, unconcerned. \u201cThey do not fear the snow.\u201d
=====
Cyndi Lauper
\u201cGirls Just Wanna Have Fun\u201d<\/b>
\tIt had been Seychelles\u2019 idea, and no one had thought to protest.
\tThey had come with varying levels of enthusiasm, clutching their invitations printed on pink stationary, formal invitations to what promised to be the best slumber party ever held in the history of the world.
\tAnd now, three hours later, some of the initial reluctance had worn off, and on the floor there lay a small mass of pillows, a half-finished bowl of popcorn, an open case of makeup, and a bottle of nail polish. Nobody noticed that it had spilled.
\t\u201cYour hair is really lovely,\u201d Seychelles was saying, dark eyes sparkling as she ran the brush through the older country\u2019s hair. The black bow had long been discarded to make way for the pink flower from Hungary\u2019s own locks.
\t\u201cAnd you look totally hot when you\u2019re not, like, pale as death.\u201d Poland stuck his tongue out between his lips in concentration, adding a hint more blush.
\tIn the corner, Ukraine stared unbelieving, and wondered whether her sister would kill her if she ever told.
-end-","comments":"https:\/\/asidian.livejournal.com\/28771.html?view=comments#comments"},{"guid":"https:\/\/asidian.livejournal.com\/28565.html","pubDate":"Wed, 01 Oct 2008 13:56:47 GMT","title":"AMV: Metamorphosis","author":"asidian","link":"https:\/\/asidian.livejournal.com\/28565.html","description":"So, uh. I entered the Yaoicon amv contest again this year. Only this time, I realized the contest was coming three days before deadline, threw something together, and had to use subtitled footage because my dvds were at home. So I nitpicked like crazy, edited around the subtitles, and wanted to gouge my eyes out. I am still not entirely sure why they screened it at all. But, uh. Finalist, yay? ^^
AMV: Metamorphosis<\/a>
Fandom: Yami no Matsuei
Rating: PG
Warnings: Spoilers
Synopsis: Tsuzuki and Hisoka have been changed by the world- but, more importantly, they have been changed by each other.","comments":"https:\/\/asidian.livejournal.com\/28565.html?view=comments#comments"},{"guid":"https:\/\/asidian.livejournal.com\/28354.html","pubDate":"Tue, 23 Sep 2008 12:27:34 GMT","title":"Fic: The Usual Reward","author":"asidian","link":"https:\/\/asidian.livejournal.com\/28354.html","description":"Pairing: Askeladd\/Thorfinn
Rating: R
Warnings: Yaoi. Coercive sex.
Summary: Someday, Thorfinn plans on getting what he wants.
Author's Notes: So, uh.
<\/a>beanclam<\/b><\/a><\/span> talked me into reading Vinland Saga, and it turned out to be amazing. I finished it in two days, dreamt about it, got a fic in my head that wouldn't leave. So now, there is fic that I feel awful for writing. Poor Thorfinn.=====
The Usual Reward
=====
\u201cPromise me a reward.\u201d
He has said the words so many times in the past ten years that they have become a habit- a way of life. They fall from his tongue as though they belong there, as though they are a joke shared between friends, but the acid still drips from every syllable that Thorfinn forces between clenched teeth.
Each time they leave his mouth, the boy wonders with that small segment of his mind not steeped in murder whether the results will strip away parts that he did not know he had left to lose. Each time, Thorfinn tells himself that nothing new can work its way through the cracks in the stone that life has formed around his heart. He tells himself that nothing can be worse than what he has seen- than what he has done<\/i>.
And each time, just the same, it gets worse.
\u201cPromise me a reward,\u201d he says, and somehow the fact that Askeladd is reaching for the belt at his waist before he gives his reply drives the blade of resentment deeper.
\u201cThe usual?\u201d the man replies, and tips a lop-sided smile, lazy eyes laughing. There is something knowing in that face, something knowing in those eyes, and Thorfinn fights down the impulse that comes, burningly strong, to draw the knives at his belt and cut them out.
Instead he grits his teeth so hard it hurts and gives a curt nod- and then the belt is on the floor, and Askeladd\u2019s pants pool beside it, bunched around the boots that hug his calves. \u201cGo on, then- get started.\u201d
Thorfinn has never done this before.
He has forgotten, as the years trickled slowly past, how to be close to anyone at all- and whatever else he has become, however near he has slipped to the monsters serving under Askeladd\u2019s command, he has never stooped to taking pleasure by force, and he never intends to. And so when he settles in between the man\u2019s knees, uses one hand to gingerly guide his newest assignment between his lips, it is an awkward effort, made worse because the boy can not help but notice the smirk growing wider on the face above him.
His cheeks burn as he begins to move, thoughts fierce and spiteful as he pushes too far too fast and nearly gags. There is weight on his head, and there are fingers in his hair, and there is a moment, before Thorfinn realizes how ridiculous it would sound, when the sudden impulse to drop his task and demand that the cheating whoreson not touch him is nearly overwhelming. He bites it back- along with the conviction that biting something else would be far more satisfying- and concentrates on finishing this as soon as he\u2019s able.
When, what seems ages later, Thorfinn begins to feel a trembling in the muscles of the man\u2019s thighs and the twining fingers become seizing claws, brambles caught in the bird\u2019s nest of the boy\u2019s hair, he intends to pull back. Instead, Askeladd's grip yanks him forward. Warmth explodes at the back of his throat, something wet and thick, and this time he does<\/i> gag, nostrils flaring as he tries to breathe.
It is over in the space of a handful of heartbeats, but it is not soon enough, and when he draws backs and stands, he spits the last of the foul white liquid onto the ground. \u201cNow,\u201d Thorfinn demands, though he knows that if they fight now, his anger will be blindingly bright, thick enough to choke him. It has<\/i> to be now, because he has proved himself wrong again, and already a piece of the boy that he hadn\u2019t known was left is curling up inside him to die.
The man who killed Thorfinn\u2019s father smirks, turns those lazy, knowing eyes his way, and rises to refasten his belt. \u201cWhatever you want, my boy.\u201d
-end-","comments":"https:\/\/asidian.livejournal.com\/28354.html?view=comments#comments"},{"guid":"https:\/\/asidian.livejournal.com\/27922.html","pubDate":"Wed, 03 Sep 2008 11:20:30 GMT","title":"The Castings returns~!","author":"asidian","link":"https:\/\/asidian.livejournal.com\/27922.html","description":"Any of you who've known me a decent amount of time knows that way back,
<\/a>beanclam<\/b><\/a><\/span> and I were working on a webcomic. Due to various time strains, it got set aside for much, much longer than we ever intended, but! As of today, the Castings returns! Updates are on Wednesdays again- ah, old times. ^_^The Castings<\/a>!","comments":"https:\/\/asidian.livejournal.com\/27922.html?view=comments#comments"},{"guid":"https:\/\/asidian.livejournal.com\/27701.html","pubDate":"Sat, 30 Aug 2008 08:10:37 GMT","title":"Fic: With the Snow","author":"asidian","link":"https:\/\/asidian.livejournal.com\/27701.html","description":"Pairing: None.
Rating: G
Warnings: Sad things happening near Christmas. Gaia Online fic.
Summary: Damian Von Helson has lost his mother.
Author's Notes: And, here's my very belated posting of a Gaia Online fic I wrote around Christmas last year for the Ian's Bar and Grill holiday contest. Yes, I am a dork that hangs out on Gaia sometimes. >_>;
=====
With the Snow
=====
It had been raining on the day that everything changed, and somehow, caught up in remembrance, the boy hadn\u2019t paid time much mind as it slipped away, hadn\u2019t noticed when the wind grew colder and winter crept in, turning the rains white. In truth, he hadn't granted his attention to much of anything, since then- and so on the day when the view from the parlor window afforded a glimpse of the mansion grounds painted white, the hard lines of stone and the plants in the garden left hidden under a fine dusting of snow, it came as a surprise. Another child might have been excited by the prospect of snowball fights, or possibly even sledding, but the boy who had been Damian Von Helson was too occupied by the argument taking place in the next room to much heed the weather.
\u201c-months<\/i> already!\u201d That was Mr. Gambino. He, it seemed, had been keeping track of the time readily enough- counting down the days until the child that had taken up residence in his home was finally sent out as he\u2019d demanded the very first night.
\u201cNow, Johnny- be reasonable.\u201d It was the same defense every time; he knew it by heart now. \u201cIf we send the boy out too soon, even with his name changed, even with his hair dyed, it will be a beacon to draw them. Have patience, old friend.\u201d
\u201cI\u2019m out of patience!\u201d came the words in response, an explosion of anger and frustration. \u201cI want that thing out of my house, Edmund!\u201d
Damian sighed, and ran a finger experimentally down the fogged glass of the window, watching the line that it left. He wondered absently whether it would have made a difference, were the two men to discover that he could hear every word they were saying. After a moment\u2019s reflection, he came to the conclusion that it probably wouldn\u2019t have.
Mr. Gambino, at least, seemed to find nothing at all the matter with letting the boy know how he felt.
* * *
Damian settled onto the plump sofa in the dining hall, closing his eyes as he lay his head against his arm and willing the wave of dizziness to pass. It came and went- a sign, he assumed, that whatever liquid they\u2019d been giving him in his weekly shots wasn\u2019t doing quite what it was meant to. Though the treatment was supposed to dull his teeth and curb his appetite, the boy was finding that normal food left him nauseated, and when he wasn\u2019t sick, he was ravenously hungry.
It was for his own good, Edmund had assured him more than once in that gruff, distant way, and Damian supposed he was right. His mother had thought so, after all. Had believed it strongly enough to think it worth dying for: that thirsts like those in which his father indulged were not meant to be sated.
And if that wasn\u2019t reason enough for the boy to persevere, nothing ever would be.
The dizziness passed in time, as it usually did, and Damian opened his eyes to the unusual, dancing play of lights that had taken over this room in the past several weeks. They came from the tiny sparkles glittering among the branches of the pointed evergreen in the corner, and the child watched them with eyes not quite human, wondering at the little baubles and gilded stars.
Christmas was coming; it came with the snow. He remembered that as though a fact from a fairy tale, some story of long ago and far away, a thing that had little bearing on his life.
He knew because his mother had given him a Christmas gift once, the year after little Louie had been born- the year before she\u2019d left them for this cozy place among the humans. It had snowed that day, and she\u2019d worn a woolen scarf, but her cheeks had been red with the cold anyway. The gift had been childish, a painted toy of wood, but he\u2019d loved it dearly until frequent use had broken it at last.
And so, when the packages had begun appearing beneath the tower of shimmering green in the Gambino dining hall, brightly dressed with ribbons and paper of a whole rainbow of colors, the sight awakened in him memories of things long past. It brought to mind the feel of his mother's mittens, rough and warm, as she had pressed the little box into his hands; the look in her eyes, fond and attentive, as he'd worked the paper free; the little thrill of excitement when she'd whispered the words, \"It's a gift, Damian. Merry Christmas.\"
And so he'd had to see.
The boy had waited until nightfall, counted the hours as they passed far beyond. He had crept ever so carefully from his own room- at the far end of the mansion from the place where Mr. Gambino and his own son slept- and into the dining hall, confident in the knowledge that everyone else was long abed. The sofa had served him well until the fit of dizziness had passed, and then- finally- Damian was free to approach the lovely tree decked with lights and baubles. Each present was lifted gently from its place, small fingers turning the tags one by one so that he could peer at the names written there.
He shouldn\u2019t have been surprised- wasn't<\/i> surprised, he told himself firmly. He'd only wanted to keep the disappointment from his face on Christmas day by knowing for certain. By knowing now. It wasn't as though Damian had actually thought that- that- that<\/i>.
But all the same, Damian wasn't quite able to stop the little spike of hurt that gathered, bright and hot, to form a knot in his throat when he\u2019d put the last package down. And he would recall, for every Christmas afterward, that in that moment he\u2019d thought the golden-haired baby slumbering peacefully onward at his father's side was the luckiest boy alive.
~end~","comments":"https:\/\/asidian.livejournal.com\/27701.html?view=comments#comments","category":["christmas","gaia online","fic"]},{"guid":"https:\/\/asidian.livejournal.com\/27477.html","pubDate":"Sat, 30 Aug 2008 07:57:45 GMT","title":"Friends lock!","author":"asidian","link":"https:\/\/asidian.livejournal.com\/27477.html","description":"Hey, guys.
For various reasons, all of which I won't go into here, I've decided that it's about time for me to friends lock my more questionable entries. I know it's a pain, and I'm sorry for that, but if you want to read anything of mine that's rated R+, friend me and I'll friend you back. If you had already friended me before I posted this announcement, you should be added already, so that's all set.
Sorry again, and thanks for understanding!","comments":"https:\/\/asidian.livejournal.com\/27477.html?view=comments#comments"},{"guid":"https:\/\/asidian.livejournal.com\/27316.html","pubDate":"Sat, 26 Jul 2008 08:26:19 GMT","title":"Dr. Horrible drabbles","author":"asidian","link":"https:\/\/asidian.livejournal.com\/27316.html","description":"Pairing: Penny\/Billy, gen
Rating: PG
Warnings: Vague spoilers.
Summary: Three Dr. Horrible drabbles.
Author's Notes: So, I watched Dr. Horrible's Sing-a-long Blog, and it promptly decided to eat my brain. I wrote these drabbles in an attempt to get it back. Three shorts, 100 words each, not connected at all. They stand alone; don't expect them to work together. ^^
=====
Horrible Drabbles
=====
\tThey are more alike than they will ever know: the sting of habitual failure; a childhood spent lonely and disillusioned; a chronic inability to make a relationship last for more than a week. They both want so badly to spark a change in the world, and doors that appeared open have slammed shut so often that their ears never stop ringing from the sound of it.
\tAnd yet the differences remain, and these too are more than either will ever guess.
\tShe is the flower that grows from the rain, after all, and he- he has drowned in the flood.
-end-
=====
His hands smell like rubber, and the tension has gathered along his spine until it feels like knots have been tied in the muscles there. The skin of his right cheekbone is scraped away, and he has not had a full night\u2019s sleep in three weeks.
The distant part of him that still acknowledges such things has realized that Moist is worried; there is still the damp spot on the red fabric of his coat\u2019s shoulder to prove that the comforting hand had lain there not so terribly long before.
Dr. Horrible ignores it. He\u2019s gotten very good at that.
-end-
=====
The spork shines in the hard fluorescent light, reflecting back the glare. Billy watches it disappear into her mouth, watches as her tongue flicks out, dusky pink, to lick away the yoghurt that has crept onto the handle. He knows he is staring, can\u2019t help<\/i> that he is staring, hopes that she won\u2019t look away from the clothes drier to notice.
\tShe takes another bite before turning back his way, and he sees in profile that her upper lip has acquired a thin film of white. By the time she faces him again, the slow burn has overtaken his cheeks.
-end-","comments":"https:\/\/asidian.livejournal.com\/27316.html?view=comments#comments"},{"guid":"https:\/\/asidian.livejournal.com\/27004.html","pubDate":"Thu, 17 Jul 2008 13:22:32 GMT","title":"MotS is done at last.","author":"asidian","link":"https:\/\/asidian.livejournal.com\/27004.html","description":"Well, the last volume of Mark of the Succubus<\/a> is finally out in stores. It's weird that it's finished;
<\/a>beanclam<\/b><\/a><\/span> and I have been working on it so long, having it behind us feels a bit odd. Oh, well. As a friend of mine was once fond of saying: we have come full circle, like a monkey on a merry-go-round. And indeed we have. ^_^","comments":"https:\/\/asidian.livejournal.com\/27004.html?view=comments#comments","category":"mots"},{"guid":"https:\/\/asidian.livejournal.com\/26685.html","pubDate":"Sat, 08 Mar 2008 06:40:36 GMT","title":"Fic: Coming Home","author":"asidian","link":"https:\/\/asidian.livejournal.com\/26685.html","description":"Pairing: Tibarn\/Reyson
Rating: PG
Warnings: M\/M. Spoilers for mid-PoR.
Summary: Reyson's lost everything.
Author's Notes: Um. So. I wrote this for a friend of mine who requested anyone\/Reyson, and it came out like teeth- slow, and painful, and with pliars. Okay, maybe not the pliars, but you get the point. Let me know if anything is glaringly terrible and needs fixing. -_-;
=====
Coming Home
=====
\tSometimes, a day would pass when Reyson didn\u2019t think of the forest- when he didn\u2019t hear the voices of his brothers and sisters, speaking in a language now dead, or when his mind didn\u2019t paint for him the green of the leaves and the gold of the sunlight before fire turned it all to ash. There had been a time when he hadn\u2019t imagined that possible, hadn\u2019t been able to think beyond the tearing homesickness for a place to which he could no longer return. But months had dragged by into years, and slowly, very slowly, Phoenicis had come to be the place he meant when he used the word \u201chome.\u201d
\tIt was not the place he had been born, certainly. His people were not here, nor any of his family save his father. But there was a certain beauty to the hawk nation, a bold and striking splendor when the afternoon light fell on the cliffs and stained them orange with the setting sun. It was a land, he sometimes felt, that was made for its king- for on the ever more frequent occasions when he joined Tibarn atop the outcroppings overlooking the sea, he found himself unable to keep from comparing the view before him to the rugged, handsome face of Phoenicis\u2019 strongest hawk. He had hated it here at first- despised it as being someplace where he didn\u2019t belong<\/i>- but with the wind in his hair and the smell of the sea strong in the air, he found that he could tell himself it didn\u2019t matter whether it was his place, so long as the man who\u2019d been so kind to him belonged so undeniably.
\t
\t*\t*\t*
\tVery carefully, the heron prince lowered his head and willed his stomach not to empty its contents all over the table before him. It was a lovely piece of furniture, after all, dark wood that looked cut from a single slab, and laid out with dishes that had seen more care than most prepared in Phoenicis. In the hawk nation, after all, presentation was usually left by the wayside in favor of more important things.
\t\u201cYou\u2019re not eating,\u201d Tibarn observed from the doorway. It was the first indication that he\u2019d been watching at all, and Reyson started at the sound, raising his eyes to the hawk who leaned in the entryway with the casual confidence of one who feared nothing. \u201cIs something the matter?\u201d
\tI ate three hours ago, Reyson might have said. I ate your favorite foods- raw meat, still bloody, fish glistening with the salt water from the waves. Wild<\/i> things, things that make you grow strong. I wanted to stand there like you do, hair ruffled by the wind, and smile like there was nothing wrong with the world that I couldn\u2019t fix.
\tBut he hadn\u2019t grown strong. He\u2019d only gotten sick.
\tReyson considered for a long moment and then shook his head. \u201cI\u2019m fine.\u201d
\t*\t*\t*
\tHe liked the way his voice carried up here in the open air- from the top of the keep, he felt that the goddess herself might hear, if only he sang from the very depths of his heart. And he had come here many times to do just that, to feel the warmth of the sun and let his song be carried away on the breeze. But for today, at least, there was reason enough to quiet himself- particularly when the hawk king\u2019s sharp-eared attendant was never terribly far from his sovereign.
\tBecause the sensation of Tibarn\u2019s mouth working its way down the column of his throat was still a new one - a pleasantly<\/i> new one, and his first inclination had been to approve of it quite vocally indeed. On second thought, however, the heron prince had considered that this probably was not the best of ideas, and so he had settled for tipping his head back instead, to offer better access to lips and teeth and tongue. Almost of its own accord, one pale hand moved to rest in the dark nest of Tibarn\u2019s hair, the other on sleek, brown wings. If he held his breath and stayed very still, he could feel the pulse of the hawk king\u2019s heart, strong and vital, beneath his fingertips.
\tReyson smiled, and he did not close his eyes; that would have blotted from view the tiny wisps of cloud traced across a sky the royal blue of summer.
~end~","comments":"https:\/\/asidian.livejournal.com\/26685.html?view=comments#comments"},{"guid":"https:\/\/asidian.livejournal.com\/26530.html","pubDate":"Sun, 03 Feb 2008 18:20:47 GMT","title":"Fic: Growing Pains","author":"asidian","link":"https:\/\/asidian.livejournal.com\/26530.html","description":"Pairing: Sothe\/Tormod
Rating: PG
Warnings: Boys making out.
Summary: Tormod's just a little peeved.
Author's Notes: Wow. I haven't written anything in ages, and it probably shows. Anyway, I finally got around to playing Radiant Dawn, and I'm falling in love with FE all over again. First fic with Sothe and Tormod here, so the characterization may be a bit wonky. Feel free to kick me in the right direction.
=====
Growing Pains
=====
\"Traitor.\" The bite came just a bit harder than it had to be, followed by a swipe of tongue, before the mouth pulled away to speak again. \"Worse- unrepentant<\/i> traitor.\" The tone was decidedly accusatory.
\"It's not like I had any say in it.\" With the words, one of Sothe\u2019s hands lowered to thread its fingers through fine hair the color of flames, silently urging the other boy to resume what he'd been doing.
But pointing out pesky things like facts, evidently, did not go far to earn him a place in Tormod's heart, for the mage sat up completely, blatantly sulking now and quite ignoring the wet trail he'd been in the process of leaving down the section of Sothe's abdomen that his shirt left bare. \"You have a say in whether you keep bringing it up<\/i>.\"
The young rogue let out a long, slow breath that sounded suspiciously like a sigh. It was the sort of sigh that one would expect from someone who had been fending off the same accusation for the past several hours. \"You couldn't reach the shelf. Getting the book down for you doesn't really count as bringing it up.\"
\"I could have got it!\" Tormod protested, the high parts of his cheeks beginning to flush the way they always did when he got worked up about something. \"You just didn't give me enough time<\/i>.\"
\"Fine.\" Sothe reached out a hand- cupped the line of the mage's jaw and traced down along it with his thumb. \"Next time, I'll let you try all day if it'll make you happy.\" It was a bit amazing, really, how much the other boy had changed since the few rushed, exploratory kisses they'd attempted three years before. Gone were softness and gangly limbs of adolescence, leaving in their place hard angles and defined muscles. Even if he hadn't<\/i> gotten much taller.\t
\"That's<\/i> more like it!\" When Tormod grinned, it was a flash of teeth, bright and victorious- and when he seized the rogue by his shirt and pulled him down hard for a kiss, it was a matter of enthusiasm over form, messy and energetic. But bare seconds later, he was pulling back again, reproach beginning to bloom in eyes as red as his hair. \"It wouldn't,\" he insisted flatly, \"take all day.\"
And because Sothe wasn't ready to let the mage distract himself from the matter at hand again, he simply ignored the interruption- and turned his efforts instead toward making Tormod forget about it altogether.
~end~","comments":"https:\/\/asidian.livejournal.com\/26530.html?view=comments#comments","category":["sothe","fe","tormod","growing pains","fic"]},{"guid":"https:\/\/asidian.livejournal.com\/26137.html","pubDate":"Sat, 10 Nov 2007 09:53:17 GMT","title":"AMV: Fix You","author":"asidian","link":"https:\/\/asidian.livejournal.com\/26137.html","description":"E-eheh, new kind of entry for me. First time I post in forever, and it's an amv. Uh. Anyway, took this to Yaoicon 2007 and got Best Drama with it. I'm... still not sure why. O_o
AMV: Fix You<\/a>
Fandom: Brave Story
Rating: PG
Warnings: Spoilers
Synopsis: Wataru and Mitsuru both have things that need fixing.","comments":"https:\/\/asidian.livejournal.com\/26137.html?view=comments#comments","category":["2007","brave story","amv","yaoicon","wataru","mitsuru"]},{"guid":"https:\/\/asidian.livejournal.com\/26047.html","pubDate":"Sun, 19 Nov 2006 15:52:30 GMT","title":"Fic: Beneath","author":"asidian","link":"https:\/\/asidian.livejournal.com\/26047.html","description":"Pairing: Evan\/Vallewida
Rating: PG
Warnings: Implied torture and noncon. Mild spoilers for Evan's backstory.
Summary: Evan takes solace in the fact that one person, at least, knows what he hides behind the laughter.
Author's Notes: Haven't had much chance to write recreationally, lately; I've been going nuts working on the third volume of MotS. This was actually finished several months ago, but I forgot to post it. Oops. ^^
It's Enzai-fic, in case folks don't know. I've been meaning to write this pairing for ages, and I'd really like to give them a fic that's not crap, at some point. ^^
=====
Beneath
=====
\tIt had been half a year ago, lying on the lumpy cot in his cell and staring at the ceiling, that Evan had decided.
The thought wasn\u2019t something terribly deep, or interesting, or even very exciting- in fact, it was something the journalist suspected he\u2019d always felt was true, on some level. Namely, that life was short, and that chasing after possibilities he was powerless to force into existence was a bit of a waste of time.
Common sense, really. Nothing to it.
But it had been a marked change from the oppressive sense of despair that he\u2019d felt immediately following his conviction- and the man had taken it to heart, mouthing the idea aloud to himself into the chill night air until he decided that it was a good one. Because he may not get out of here alive- probably<\/i> wouldn\u2019t, he conceded when he was being honest with himself- and no matter what the quality of life here, it was all the life he had left.
So Evan had thrown himself into it with abandon, laughing often, talking loudly, gambling everything he owned and winning back twice as much and more.
And when sometimes his thoughts offered up pictures of the outside world- of Lusca slicking his hair with water before a trial, casual and confident; of his little brother, voice soft and eyes gentle, turning to ask a question; of a notepad filled with his own writing, cramped and rushed and messy, ink fresh from a recent interview- the man swallowed down the bitter taste of dissatisfaction and grinned until it passed.
Except for every once in a while, when there was someone nearby who would know exactly what it meant that the smile had faded.
And then the images could stay, and it wasn\u2019t such a betrayal to think: I\u2019ll never have those things again.
Because Vallewida simply watched him, eyes like calm, dark water, his own smile chased away.
*\t*\t*
\u201cYou need to get this looked at,\u201d Evan insisted, hands not pausing in their motion; twist, and wrap, and the bandage closed another circuit around Vallewida\u2019s arm.
Despite the blood already staining the white of the newly applied fabric, there was a mild, subdued amusement in the reply. \u201cAren\u2019t I?\u201d
The journalist snorted his disdain at the response. \u201cBy someone who can do<\/i> something about it, I mean.\u201d
\u201cThere\u2019s not much else to be done,\u201d Vallewida remarked, sounding very much as though the chunk of flesh missing from his upper arm wasn\u2019t currently the matter under discussion. Until the next layer of the wrap pulled tight, at least, and he grimaced with the pain of it, a soft noise escaping him.
\u201cStitches,\u201d Evan said evenly, \u201cfor a start.\u201d
\u201cWhich they won\u2019t-\u201d The man broke off briefly as the end of the bandage was pulled snug and tied, the only sign of the pain a soft intake of breath. \u201c-won\u2019t consider necessary.\u201d
A black look crept into the journalist\u2019s eyes, and the scowl that twisted down the corners of his mouth proclaimed exactly what the guards could do with their perceptions of \u2018necessary\u2019. \u201cIf Durer doesn\u2019t let up,\u201d Evan muttered, voice harsh with contained anger, \u201cThere won\u2019t be any of you left.\u201d
Vallewida\u2019s smile was a tentative thing, fragile and experimental. \u201cI\u2019m fine,\u201d he insisted. \u201cIt\u2019s no worse than usual.\u201d
The response was a long moment in coming.
\u201cI know,\u201d Evan agreed at last. \u201cThat\u2019s what worries me.\u201d
*\t*\t*
\tIt was fascinating to watch Vallewida\u2019s fingers as he worked.
How a person could make boot leather and thick, coarse thread seem as delicate as needlework would perhaps ever remain a mystery- even to Evan, who prided himself on being able to get going at a fair clip once he put his mind to what could only be considered singularly unrewarding work.
But somehow, there it was; even on days like today, when the soldier was frighteningly pale, trembling where he stood, there was no hesitation in the gentle jab and tug of the needle held between those pale fingers. In and out- thread pulled taut- tie- and a shoe was finished.
Then deft hands were coaxing the coarse thread through the needle once more and beginning anew, calm, dark eyes never leaving their task.
Only once had Evan seen him falter- just once, when Vallewida had risen his gaze in time for the journalist to be caught staring. He\u2019d flashed his most winning smile, of course, and tipped a wink, as though sharing a secret joke between them.
The blood had welled up startlingly red from the tip of Vallewida\u2019s finger where the needle had pricked him.
*\t*\t*
\u201cSo, what\u2019s on for tomorrow?\u201d Evan asked with a grin, slipping into the soldier\u2019s cell without waiting for an invitation.
The expression that the sudden greeting yielded was mixed- amusement, certainly, but something something else as well, something a touch fonder. Absently, slender hands reached to tuck a scrap of paper between the pages of the book cradled on Vallewida\u2019s lap, marking the place where he\u2019d stopped reading.
\u201cPerhaps a trip to the library,\u201d the man answered, consideringly. \u201cI suspect that one more chapter won\u2019t take long to finish.\u201d
There were words beneath the response, of course- the assumptions that lay below the surface no matter how simple a conversation they shared. Because in this place, any thoughts of the following day came tempered by a necessary string of ifs; it was implicitly understood, and the both of them had spent long enough in prison that the knowledge could remain between them, not mentioned at all.
Perhaps the library tomorrow, Vallewida had meant, if he found himself well enough then to walk there. Perhaps the library, if he wasn\u2019t bleeding in a penance chamber for some trifling, half-invented error. Perhaps the library tomorrow, if he was alive to visit it.
As he had so many times before, Evan ignored the words beneath the words and laughed. \u201cKeep this up and you\u2019ll be out of books. What\u2019d you do then?\u201d
The smile was faint about Vallewida\u2019s lips, soft and pale. \u201cStart again, I suppose.\u201d
~owari~","comments":"https:\/\/asidian.livejournal.com\/26047.html?view=comments#comments"},{"guid":"https:\/\/asidian.livejournal.com\/25771.html","pubDate":"Sun, 18 Jun 2006 12:34:07 GMT","title":"Fic: Observations","author":"asidian","link":"https:\/\/asidian.livejournal.com\/25771.html","description":"Pairing: Light\/L
Rating: PG
Warnings: None, really.
Teaser: There was nothing save the flicker of light from the computer screens, a pale, washed-out sort of glow that lent the room none of the warmth that a home ought to have.
Author's Notes: I have been painfully uninspired lately. And then today... I went to go see the Death Note movie. Now there's a series I've been meaning to write for for ages- and let me tell you, did the movie ever kick that<\/i> impulse into gear.
I'm glad it did- it feels good to write something again. ^__^
=====
Observations
=====
\tThere was nothing save the flicker of light from the computer screens, a pale, washed-out sort of glow that lent the room none of the warmth that a home ought to have. It turned the walls an uneasy bluish-white, bleached the skin of the boy that sat before lifeless glass, turned the dark smudges beneath his eyes into something ghastly.
\tHis hand, too thin to be entirely healthy, never wavered in its course- the tips of two fingers remained perched delicately on either edge of the very end of a spoon handle, the long, graceful implement held at an angle awkward enough that it seemed some bizarre extension of the young detective\u2019s own limb. He\u2019d become so practiced at the motion- dip, scoop, lift, one miniscule spoonful at a time- that he no longer needed to watch what he was doing. Dark eyes could remain focused instead upon the images before him, the tiny rows of numbers that would have reduced any normal person to tears of frustration with the hours spent staring at them, poring over them, trying on and discarding half a dozen meanings before giving up and starting afresh.
\tBut L had never been accused of being normal- not once, not ever, and when at last the spoon clinked against the bottom of the glass, a chiming noise muffled by the last of the chocolate syrup, the only expression that registered in the boy\u2019s eyes was one of vague, brief regret.
\tIt was with an awkward, creeping forward-shuffle that he was able to reach the desk to set the newly-emptied ice cream dish next to the key board, and even that was a stretch; the chain attached to his wrist neared taut when he came to the edge of his chair, and the boy at the other end of it was sleeping onward, lost to the world some ten minutes ago, unconscious and therefore immobile.
Which put a damper, L acknowledged sadly to himself, on the half-formed plan that he\u2019d been nurturing to procure some tea in the near future.
At the realization, the boy\u2019s dark-eyed gaze flickered at last from what it had been fixed upon, turning from the small lines of neatly-typed data in favor of the new subject of his thoughts. Had Light been awake, he might have been surprised to see the expression that softened those eyes and tugged at the corner of pale lips- a curious mixture of exasperation and fondness.
\tBecause it was fascinating, as always, to examine his suspect while the boy was completely unguarded. Quite one thing, after all, to attempt to maneuver one\u2019s opponent into a vital mistake in conversation- and quite another to watch Light\u2019s eyelashes flutter with the onset of some dream, to observe the way the boy\u2019s lips parted as his breathing slowed and deepened.
\t And when L asked himself, from time to time, why it was that he paid such close attention at hours like this- far too late in the night or early in the morning, all the world drained of warmth or the comforting hum of life going on around him- he always answered that it was important to see even the side of the suspect that he never saw himself. To mark every aspect of the other boy, to understand a potentially criminal mind in any way that presented itself. And more important than any of those, to be ever watchful.
One hand lifted absently to his mouth, by way of habit, teeth worrying at the skin around a fingernail shorn far too short already. Slowly, dark eyes lifted again to the neat rows of numbers displayed on the computer screen.
The only problem with those answers, the young detective had long since acknowledged, was that he was far too intelligent to believe his own lies.
\tWith the awkwardness so inherent in every motion of the boy\u2019s lanky frame, he scooted forward once more, feeling without meaning to the way the short distance tugged cool metal snug against his wrist. It really was too bad, he allowed himself as he began to type again, about the tea.
-owari-","comments":"https:\/\/asidian.livejournal.com\/25771.html?view=comments#comments"},{"guid":"https:\/\/asidian.livejournal.com\/25532.html","pubDate":"Sun, 12 Mar 2006 11:03:16 GMT","title":"Mark of the Succubus","author":"asidian","link":"https:\/\/asidian.livejournal.com\/25532.html","description":"Well, for a long time I put off announcing this here; it felt weird to talk about it, and this was my writing journal, and I wasn't sure what to say<\/i>. But, well,
<\/a>beanclam<\/b><\/a><\/span> and I have been trying to stir up interest, so I figured it was about time I actually said something.As some of you who read my private journal know, last November Tokyopop published a manga by myself and Beanclam; I wrote, and she drew, and things were sparklingly wonderful. It's called Mark of the Succubus<\/a>, and can be found in bookstores, at the Tokyopop website, in some comic stores, and on Amazon. And no, I still can't believe it. ^^
In any case, reviews<\/a> and such have shown up since, but not many, and word of mouth has been a bit quiet, as yet. We've got a fledgling lj comm,
![](\"https:\/\/l-stat.livejournal.net\/img\/community.png?v=556&v=915\")
<\/a>mots_manga<\/b><\/a><\/span>, in the works though, and the forum<\/a> went up tonight. Er- yesterday. Or, uhm. Early this morning? So, uh- yeah. Announcement has happened. Aren't you proud, Beanclam? I finally did it. ^_^;","comments":"https:\/\/asidian.livejournal.com\/25532.html?view=comments#comments"},{"guid":"https:\/\/asidian.livejournal.com\/25177.html","pubDate":"Thu, 09 Mar 2006 15:09:23 GMT","title":"Drabble: To Every Coin","author":"asidian","link":"https:\/\/asidian.livejournal.com\/25177.html","description":"Pairing: Naesala\/Reyson; implied Tibarn\/Reyson
Rating: PG
Warnings: None, really.
Teaser:
Author's Notes: Okay, so I finally figured that with all the complaining I do about how few alt pairings there are for FE, I ought to try writing<\/i> one or two. And I'm glad I did; this was fun<\/i> to write. I really like<\/i> Naesala. ^__^
=====
To Every Coin
=====
They call him shameless, arrogant, greedy- and he doesn\u2019t mind the words.
They\u2019re his best qualities, he\u2019s always thought; he\u2019s spent his life polishing them up and putting them on display like the shiny bits of gold he holds so dear.
He\u2019s always known that every coin has two sides, after all; he keeps one in his pocket, just to remind him. And no one understands as well as Naesala that shameless can be fearless, that arrogant means his smirk is wide enough to make his enemies second-guess their estimations.
As for the last, well- no one ever got anything without grabbing for it two-handed. Not money, not power, not love. That\u2019s the way the world works, and that\u2019s the way Naesala likes it.
And if it just so happens that he\u2019s been a bit more bent than usual on rounding up a different kind of gold, who\u2019s to know the difference? What matter, after all, if that greed\u2019s stretched just a bit further than before- shows up in the intent behind a crooked eyebrow, the lingering of hands on pale shoulders, the not-so-subtle flirting that puts the hawk king up in arms.
And if his blatant tongue were to talk a certain estranged heron prince right into his bed- well, really, who\u2019s to care?
There\u2019s all manner of treasure in the world, after all- and Naesala, for one, is clever enough to snatch up whatever comes his way.
-owari-","comments":"https:\/\/asidian.livejournal.com\/25177.html?view=comments#comments"},{"guid":"https:\/\/asidian.livejournal.com\/24927.html","pubDate":"Sun, 05 Mar 2006 07:23:52 GMT","title":"Fic: Voices","author":"asidian","link":"https:\/\/asidian.livejournal.com\/24927.html","description":"Pairing: Lusca\/Guys
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Angst. Spoilers.
Teaser:
Author's Notes: This is actually an older fic of mine, written after my first play-through of the game about a year and a half ago, but I figured that since I'm a member of the
<\/a>enzai<\/b><\/a><\/span> comm, I ought to get it up on lj and share something. In any case, some of the lines may be a bit off, cause this was based on my own translation and I never changed it after the official release, but, well, here it is. ^^Takes place after the good ending with Lusca; spoilers if you haven't gotten it.
=====
Voices
=====
Sometimes, the voices still woke him at night.
It had been nearly a year. Ten and a half months already, and he thought that they'd have been forgotten by now- or relegated, at least, to the parts of his mind that he only dared revisit in the safety of sleep's embrace.
They had, of course, become less frequent, and there were nights now when he didn't hear them at all. Blessed stretches filled with undisturbed silence, days when he could wake in the morning with his cheeks dry and heart not pounding with the remnants of some half-remembered nightmare.
But they did still come.
It didn't matter whether Lusca was there, though the nights that he came straight to bed were easiest to handle.
Then, there weren't hours wasted in envisioning the man hunched over a stack of paperwork and fingers stained with ink; he didn't need to picture in his mind the way the candle on the desk guttered as the wick crept nearer the melted wax. Then, he didn't have to remind himself that he wasn't alone, that but for the demands of his newest trial, the lawyer would be sharing the bed with him. He could feel the man instead, reach out and touch the smooth, warm skin of his back and be drawn into the peaceful rhythm of his breathing.
When they could lie together as he began to drift away in those first few moments before sleep claimed him, it was easier. But still they came.
The first time, he'd thought that he hadn't yet woken.
It had begun in much the same fashion as his dreams, after all; with the shade drawn, the darkness in the room easily approached the eerie black that the cell had reached at night, and the cold amusement in the tone was certainly reminiscent of his worst nightmares.
It had taken him almost two full minutes, heart trying to tear its way through his throat, before he'd realized that they were all words he'd heard before. Terrifying though it had been, everything was from memory- promises, threats, and commands, each more chilling than the last, stripping him slowly of the sense of security he'd so painstakingly rebuilt.
Lusca had taken the stairs two at a time when at last he'd cried out in meaningless terror, been at his side mere heartbeats later, wanting to know what was wrong, whether he'd had another nightmare.
Guys hadn't been able to tell him anything. Hadn't wanted to admit that he'd allowed his mind to get carried away, that he'd frightened himself in the dark like a child steadily working up the fear of a monster that, in all actuality, wasn't in the closet.
That night, the man had stayed with him, ignored the work that waited downstairs. Had lay beside him, smoothing his hair, whispering reassurances that he'd heard many times before and since. And when the boy had slept at last, it was a deep sleep, bottomless and vast.
The first time, it had been Durer. But the others had joined him, the sound of their voices echoing with deafening force in the silence of the room.
\"I wanted a kitten to play with,\" Guildias told him occasionally, and the flood of emotions that came with that simple statement were nearly overwhelming. The words were impossible to forget, impossible to deny, and always they had the same smooth, carelessly cruel tone of memory.
\"Are you disobeying me?\" Jose demanded on some nights, to the despairing whisper of Io's \"I'm sorry.\" And Evan's careless tone came from time to time as well, dismissing him as a kid despite the pain that he'd been through,with Vallewida's voice not long after, all the concern the mandisplayed in his lucid moments put into the gentle query as to whether he was all right.
Sometimes, it was a question that Guys wasn't certain he could answer.
It had been nearly a year, after all, and still they woke him. Nearly a year, and he hadn't quite managed to forget the terror that set his heart to racing even in the safety of his lover's bed.
Maybe, Guys supposed, there would never be a time when he didn't hear their voices in his memory or wake from nightmares that left him shaking and unnerved.
But then, he'd known enough of Vallewida to understand that the man's definition of 'all right' was far beyond the daily standards of wellness to which Guys had become so accustomed. And with time, the boy had grown to recognize that in asking that particular question, he'd actually had something much simpler in mind.
'Can you make it through this?' the man had probed more often than once, without needing to use the words. It was a gauge of sorts, a test to see how well he'd held together- and whether he would be able to do the same in days to come.
And by those standards, Guys supposed that he was indeed all right.
He was holding together, after all, no longer having to scrape the bottom of his reserves just to face the following day. The bruises and abrasions had healed long ago, and he was gaining weight. He had Lusca to... well, he had Lusca.
And wasn't that enough?
Their voices haunted him less often, after all, and when he reminded himself inadvertently that a good many of them were living still in the hell that he'd escaped, it was easier now to push the thought away.
Eventually, perhaps, they wouldn't come at all. And then he could begin again to judge his life by his own standards of 'all right'.
Until then, the boy decided, he'd have to settle for simply making it through- and hoping that Lusca's voice would be enough to drown out those of memory.
-owari-","comments":"https:\/\/asidian.livejournal.com\/24927.html?view=comments#comments"},{"guid":"https:\/\/asidian.livejournal.com\/24630.html","pubDate":"Thu, 02 Mar 2006 09:35:08 GMT","title":"Fic: Cargo, Ch. 3","author":"asidian","link":"https:\/\/asidian.livejournal.com\/24630.html","description":"Pairing: Ulki\/Janaff
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Janaff!abuse.
Summary: A poorly timed surveillance mission lands Janaff on a ship carrying exactly the sort of merchandise his king had feared: the live variety.
Chapters: 1<\/a>; 2<\/a>;
Author's Notes: Well... it's longer this time, if not by much. Not sure I like this chapter much, either, but if I sit on it any longer, it's gonna stagnate. And so it goes on. :D
=====
Cargo, chapter 3
=====
\tIt was not, Janaff had thought, a terribly bad plan. Undoubtedly he\u2019d come up with worse before.
In fact, there were more than a handful of occasions that came readily to mind, most of which involved Ulki informing him, in no uncertain terms, as to what precisely had gone wrong with them. And this, at least, had held the advantage of simplicity- an improvement, he\u2019d thought, considering the look<\/i> his partner usually gave him when he admitted to the convolutions inserted into said plans for the sake of challenge over necessity.
\tThe first step had gone smoothly enough.
It had involved simply lying still and gathering his strength- and though usually impatience would have made him restless, the hawk had been slightly unsettled to discover that it wasn\u2019t difficult at all to convince his body that sleep was preferential to the cold and damp and pain of being awake.
And so he\u2019d rested. Recovered until the exhaustion weighing him down hadn\u2019t been quite so heavy, the pain in his head not quite so sharp.
Until he felt that, when the beorcs came to look in on him, he could put up a fight that would make them reconsider slaving altogether.
Because it was one thing, certainly, to bind him when he was in the form closer to the way beorcs looked. But it was quite stupid, in Janaff\u2019s mind, that they hadn\u2019t thought to tie any part of him that would carry over when he became a hawk. His hands might be useful enough before he\u2019d transformed, after all- but when he didn\u2019t have them any more, all his captors would have left to show for the bindings would be a pile of knotted ropes at the ship\u2019s bottom.
And so he waited for an opportunity, and occasionally caught the muffled bellows of the man that his mind had come to recognize as responsible for the shipment. Found himself grinning into the darkness, despite himself, to discover that whatever other laguz they\u2019d been carrying as cargo evidently had<\/i> jumped ship.
And when at last light flooded into the hold, illuminating a square of grey sky some distance away and the outline of steps leading downward, Janaff had held his breath and waited, watching as the first of the men stepped down onto the stairs. Struggled hard not to translate the nervous energy that always flooded him before a battle into the tapping of a foot or some other motion liable to give him away.
Because the mere fact that there were only two of them was enough to bring the edges of an anticipatory smile to his lips, despite how he willed it away. The hawk couldn\u2019t count the number of times that Ulki had warned him never to underestimate his enemy, after all- and here were these men, wearing no armor, obligingly leaving the hatch wide open for him.
It seemed almost unfair.
But if cheating, Janaff conceded to himself, involved exploiting the stupidity of beorcs with all the moral sense of vultures, unfair he would be. And after he\u2019d taken the two in the hold, all that would be left is to clear the stairs- because, injured wing or no, they\u2019d never catch him once he was out in open air.
\tThey were talking to one another as they drew nearer, words too low for him to hear. The conversation gave him confidence all the same, though; if they were paying attention to each other, that meant they were paying less<\/i> attention to him.
\tBut he waited, regardless, every muscle tense and ready, struggling to give no outward sign that he was conscious- waited until the both of them stood over him, looking down.
\tAnd when the first beorc moved as though to kneel, he struck.
\tIt was an awkward blow, certainly. Janaff couldn\u2019t recall the last time he\u2019d kicked someone, if ever. But his foot caught behind the man\u2019s knee, and an instant later, he was cursing as he hit the floor, caught off guard, his companion\u2019s attention stolen just as it was meant to have been.
\tA second was all it took for Janaff to push himself up to his knees, even bereft of his hands, and from there he had a brief, awkward struggle to regain his feet.
\tThe beorc turned back toward him at about the same moment that his feet cleared the wood of the ship\u2019s bottom, wings beating hard against the stale air of the hold, aching with protest but holding him aloft. The other man was climbing to his feet, now, but that wasn\u2019t important- nothing was important, beyond the nudge that would transform him into something more than capable of showing the bastards exactly what he thought of slavers.
\tJanaff drew a breath in, tasting the rush of an impending fight, and reached for the part of him that would start the habitual tumble into another form. For one trembling moment, everything hung in the balance.
\tAnd then he simply didn\u2019t change.
\tHis hands remained knotted, unmoving behind him, and the wings that were supposed to have become much more powerful remained as they were, one still unsteady and pained from the impact with the mast. But more than that were the things that remained missing entirely- the talons that could have closed effortlessly into the beorcs\u2019 flesh, or the beak that would have made them hesitate, once they\u2019d felt the force he could put behind it.
\tAstonishment came like a shock of icy water, spilling over him in the space between breaths.
\tAnd before he could comprehend- before he could even begin to process- a hand was reaching out for him, heedless of the fact that he should have been able to force it away, was closing around the messy remains of his bun and tugging, hard.
\tThe pain and the shock and the unexpected strength<\/i> behind it stopped him cold- and in the next instant, the other hand had seized a wing, was twisting<\/i> in a way that made him give a hoarse cry, and before the hawk could so much as try to pull away his feet were on the ground once more, succumbing to the pressure.
\t\u201cOh, come on now,\u201d the man said, casually. \u201cYou didn\u2019t really expect us to let you do whatever you wanted. Right?\u201d
\tThe words didn\u2019t process; Janaff\u2019s mind was caught up in something much more important.
Because he ought to be able to do this. It was only natural<\/i> that he be able to do this. He wasn\u2019t exhausted, or terribly injured- there was nothing that should be stopping him.
Blindly, the hawk reached toward the part of him that had always made the shift in forms so effortlessly- and just as he teetered on the edge once more, a shivering almost-change that settled him back into a shape closer to that of a beorc, the man\u2019s words reached him.
\u201cI mean, you sub-humans are pretty pathetic unless you're animals.\u201d
Janaff could only stare up at him, eyes wide, mouth slightly open. Quite suddenly, it felt as though breathing was something difficult, and he wondered, just for a second, if perhaps his ears had failed him. \u201cWhat?\u201d
The man was close enough that Janaff could see the smirk creeping up at the corners of his face, even in the dim lighting. \u201cYou think you lot are clever enough to come up with magic to stay like that indefinitely, but we can\u2019t do the opposite?\u201d The hand still clenched in the hair loosened its grip, shifted instead to take his chin in a tight hold. \u201cPresumptuous little fuck, aren\u2019t you?\u201d
Hissing like a startled bird, Janaff jerked backward- was reminded, quite forcefully, of the fact that the other hand still had a crushing grip on one of his wings. Despite his efforts, the man leaned closer.
\u201cWell, here\u2019s some news for you, sub-human: you\u2019ve got a handy new bracelet that\u2019s gonna make sure your sharp edges are smoothed over.\u201d The hand on his wing-joint grew cruelly tighter, even as the thumb on his chin gentled up, turning the gesture into a mockery of a caress. \u201cSo until you\u2019re ready to take your hand off, don\u2019t bother putting up a fight. You\u2019ll just embarrass yourself.\u201d
Janaff didn\u2019t even bother with a response; he did, instead, the only thing he could think to do.
He bit the human bastard. Hard.
\tThe result was instantaneous; the grip on both wing and face jerked suddenly backward as the man howled in pain, and the hawk grinned viciously even as he staggered, pleased to discover that he could taste blood in his mouth. \u201cEmbarrass myself?\u201d he echoed, eyes innocently wide, lips closing over teeth to make the smile something closer to a smirk.
\tThe expression lasted for all five seconds before one of those hands returned. It clenched in the front of his shirt, this time, and the other hardened into a fist, connecting with his mouth.
\tThe force of the blow set his head to ringing; pain sparked, bright and hot, where it had landed, and quite suddenly there was more blood on his tongue than there had been before. For an alarming second, Janaff wasn\u2019t certain whether he\u2019d have fallen if not for the hold on the collar of his shirt.
\tAnd then the second strike connected with his jaw, and he knew<\/i> he\u2019d have fallen; it was strong enough to snap his head backward, grey out the dim lighting of the hold with tiny black dots.
\tInstinctively, he cringed away, bracing to be hit again- and opened one eye a moment later, cautiously, when the blow didn\u2019t come.
\tBecause the other human was saying something now, tone sharp and words quick. He\u2019d climbed back to his feet at some point, Janaff realized distantly, and was standing beside his companion. \u201cHey,\u201d he said. \u201cHey<\/i>! Watch his face!\u201d
It was with unmistakable reluctance that the instruction was heeded, fingers unclenching grudgingly from the front of Janaff\u2019s shirt, and the hawk was distantly surprised to discover that his legs didn\u2019t seem even a bit interested in stopping the fall. They gave out with an unsteady little wobble, and he hit the wood of the floor without the benefit of having his hands free to slow the impact.
\t \u201cFucker bit<\/i> me,\u201d the first man was growling. \u201cYou see this? Fucking teeth<\/i> marks.\u201d
\tDimly, Janaff wished the light was good enough for him<\/i> to make out the teeth marks.
\t\u201cSo kick him in the side, or something,\u201d came the suggestion, off-handed. \u201cJust leave his face out of it.\u201d A foot descended on his shoulder, then- pressed until the hawk gave a tiny gasp of pain, yielded, and rolled onto his back. In the darkness, the human leaned down to peer more closely at him. \u201cHe\u2019s too scrawny for labor. Won\u2019t get a decent price \u2018less someone thinks he\u2019s pretty. Y\u2019know- puts him to use that way.\u201d The pressure on his shoulder increased as the man straightened up again.
\t\u201cPeople are sick<\/i>,\u201d came the declaration, disgust making the words sharp. \u201cOr desperate, if they want a fucking sub-human.\u201d He punctuated the words by taking the suggestion, landing a heavy, broad boot against Janaff\u2019s ribs.
The hawk clenched his teeth shut against the noise of pain that tried to escape- twisted on the floorboards, trying to squirm out from under the foot that still pinned him.
The second strike came before he could make any progress, however- a blow to his stomach that was more a stomp than a kick. The breathless cry that it wrenched from him wasn\u2019t something Janaff could hold back.
\t\u201cTheir money,\u201d the second human was saying, unconcerned. \u201cThey can do whatever the hell they want.\u201d
\tIt wasn\u2019t until some time later, when the pain of the beating had begun to make him teeter on the edge of consciousness, that the boot on his shoulder let up.
\tAnd if Janaff had made plans concerning the little square of light that led outside, he couldn\u2019t seem to recall what they were by the time he watched the silhouettes of the humans climb the stairs once more.
-end chapter 3-","comments":"https:\/\/asidian.livejournal.com\/24630.html?view=comments#comments"}]}}