La Noyée

So I am, briefly, back. With fanfic.

lanoyee — Thu, 26 Mar 2015 23:56:22 GMT

Splintering (2383 words) by lanoyee
Chapters: 2/?
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Characters: Buffy Summers, Rupert Giles, Faith Lehane
Additional Tags: What-If, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence
Summary:

After Giles' betrayal in "Helpless", Buffy cannot find it in herself to forgive him.

First thing I've written in aaages. First chaptered fic I've probably written since I was fourteen or so. Reasonably nervous about it.

Buffy Season 9 #23

lanoyee — Tue, 16 Jul 2013 19:30:52 GMT

I literally just read the issue, so I thought I'd give you my impressions here.

First thing I noticed was Willow calling Dawn "[Buffy's] sister" and I found it odd. It made sense, though, when they mentioned not being to remember Dawn's name anymore. At first I thought their reaction to this realization seemed pretty cold because tbh I don't think the art is very clear on facial expressions. (Ugh do not talk to me about the art.)

Spike was being super decent in putting aside any grievances with Xander to let him talk to Dawn. I didn't entirely buy Xander being like "even if Buffy doesn't remember you, I will" because I'm like NUUUUU NO ONE IS CLOSER TO DAWN THAN BUFFY, but I can accept that Xander is certainly sincere. :P

Still hating that Dawn is being victimized. :||||| EVIL EYE, COMIC WRITERS. EVIL EYE. I'M WATCHING YOU.

I like that Buffy and Willow finally had a bit of a talk about their grievances! Or rather Buffy not trusting Willow and having reason to. And feeling abandoned because Willow went off on her magic odyssey when Buffy really would've needed a friend. The talk was too short and unsatisfying, though. But oddly enough I think that about basically all the comics scenes. I wonder if it's my lack of familiarity with US comics or if there really is something to it. A bad storytelling thing. Hmm.

Gotta say, though: LOVE the adventuring, world-saving tag team of ladies! Ahhh I always love it when ladies go off to badassery together. GO TEAM BUFFY AND WILLOW.

Xander is still kind of an ass. But what else is new.

The demon that made vampires. Hmm. I wonder if this will in any way be satisfying, or if they're rolling the drum a lot now only to have everything resolved too quickly and too easily. Probably the latter, I fear. Still, it's an interesting twist.

I complained a lot, but I liked this issue! Excited to see what comes next.

Pen & Paper; author's commentary.

lanoyee — Wed, 03 Jul 2013 20:22:07 GMT

Because this is one of those fics where I tried to say a lot of things in the quite sparse words the fic is comprised of. Or maybe it's that a lot of thoughts went into why I wrote and phrased certain things the way I did. Thus, here the commentary. In which I may or may not be stating the obvious. I don't know how many of these things one could gather just by reading the fic. You tell me?

Buffy knocked, like a good girl, but when there was no answer after ten seconds, she tried the door. It was open.

Here in this first sentence, I establish which Buffy we're dealing with: early seasons Buffy, the very picture of wholesome blonde from a slightly broken up, but still loving middle-class white family; wearing skirts so short they almost do a tour 'round the block back to innocence; and very much feeling she needs to fit a certain picture of "goodness": polite, considerate, demure to an extent.

"Angel? " she said, voice low, as if she might disturb something. Or perhaps it was just because being around Angel always made her gentler. She liked herself more the way he made her.

The quiet steps she took, however, were always part predator, too. That was okay, though. Appropriate.

This is her primal conflict: being a warrior, a soldier, hard, strong and far from love, unfeminine. And not liking it, not being comfortable with it. Preferring to be the girl she's supposed to be and always has been. An existence away from blood and death.

And yet, her being a predator is appropriate around Angel. He is, too, after all. And yet he is good. Maybe it's okay then. If he can be both predatory and good, maybe she can be too. Maybe if she can be both, he can be too. There's a certain solace in it.

Once she'd reached the entry to his bedroom, she saw him. The scratching and paper-crumpling sounds floating at the edge of her perception made sense now: he sat in a chair, his back to her, the floor around him strewn with paper. His arm was moving, tense and choppy, yet at once somehow graceful.

On Angel the Series, there are multiple instances where we see Angel like this. Drawing, most often the women in his life, and completely absorbed in the activity. Like he's sketching out his thoughts. Understanding with his pencil, line by line. This is what inspired this fic: Buffy had such an impact on him that I find it extremely plausible that he did this at some point early in their relationship, before losing his soul.

Buffy, brow knitting, took predator-steps toward her lover until she could see over his shoulder.

Again, a reminder: just as he will always be a little dangerous to her, she will always be a little dangerous to him.

He was drawing. Drawing her.

"Wow", she whispered, and this time it broke the spell.

"Buffy." He turned his face around to her, looking like a kid at the cookie jar, and also ruffled like a disturbed cat.

Draw-thinking Angel is unamused at being interrupted in his train of thought. He doesn't do this to show off. It's a private thing.

"That's..." she began, then pointed vaguely, which was enough to indicate the papers. "Boy, you've been at this for a while."

He still held his pencil when he started scratching the back of his head. "Ah, well, it's just... I've just been", he inclined his head, "thinking."

"Your thinking is different than my thinking", she said, quippy and cheery.

I will always point out that Buffy can be quite intellectually adept when she bothers, but the truth is that she doesn't really connect to academics nor art. They function differently.

"W-well, just a hobby."

She was sitting on the arm of his chair now. She reached out her hand and touched the edge of his drawing.
"It's beautiful."

Angel looked at her. He always did when she spoke with that voice. They could not help but be amazed by each other.

They are always so very in awe of each other at the very beginning. Only one is a teenager, but they both kind of act like it. Given what we know of Angel's human life, one might surmise that Buffy is, in fact, the first time he experiences a deep love as a soul-having creature.

"Thanks", he said, in the same voice, but made no move to touch her. Buffy took in the mess around her.
Sketches of her, all. Some crumpled, some discarded as they were. All good, but none satisfactory, it seemed.

She leaned toward him. "Would you like me to model for you?"

Wherein Buffy draws entirely the wrong conclusion from her observation.

There was the barest moment of silence while she stroked the back of his neck.

"Uh, sure", he said, but he did not look particularly elated. Buffy really couldn't help her pout.

"Well", she said. "How do you want me?"

Her body shifted, a little backwards, her arms squishing her chest just so, opening her top a fraction.

Budding sexuality; testing the waters of seduction. It's a persona, a role she tries out, just like the above "quippy and cheery" is. One of the many faces people adopt in their development, emulated from role models of behavior around them.

She could hear him swallow. "Buffy..."

Then she smiled, too bright for seduction. "Go on, Mister Artist. Pose me."

And yet, she is still playing and reverting to neutral ground quickly. She's not ready for things other than sweet kisses yet. There is an explanation of the Point of the whole fic at the end, and I guess bringing up Buffy's sexuality begs the question of whether said Point is just something that, as the world is right now, is implicit in adult life, romance and sexuality.

"Ah, uhm..." his gaze moved between her and his sketchpad. He tore off the upper sheet with the drawing, threw it among the others, then looked up at her again.

"This is good."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

And he began.

Buffy had thought it might be more romantic. Or erotic even. Like in "Titanic". (And this was what thoughts were for: no one else knowing what they were.) Instead, it was oddly disappointing. It shouldn't be, with his gaze focusing on her, clearly drinking in every detail, every shadow her features cast. She could quickly tell what he fixated on and made a game out of glancing at the work in progress to see if she was right.

See, this is where I gripe about Titanic. I'm sure it's different when artist and model have the hots for each other, but I did some nude figure drawing with a model myself a few years ago. I think beforehand, I was vaguely worried I'd be embarassed ~~or end up staring inappropriately~~, but what it ended up being wasn't sexy at all. I took on sort of an "artist's gaze", if you will. At that moment, sex flew out the window.

And yet, it wasn't about her. It was about her form and shape becoming part of whatever it was that this gave him, and he saw only the shape and not the Buffy at all.

This, I think, is the core thought of this fic: that there is objectification in art, and in love as well. Sometimes when people fall in love with each other, they fall in love with an idea, or with a – hmmm, how do I say this – a "tool", if you will. They think of the other person first and foremost in terms of what that person does for them, how that person makes them feel. Both Angel and Buffy do this to one another to an extent, I think.

As for art; it's hardly possible to draw a person without some degree of objectification taking place. Or rather, the image of a person is an object: it's a painting, a drawing, a sculpture etc. It may be identifiable, yet it exists distinctly from the person it emulates. It will live on beyond its model and be seen by people who have no idea who the person behind the image was.

Can love, then, be entirely without that certain degree of objectification, or is it necessary to motivate us into having relationships at all? Is this necessarily always a bad thing? Does the objectification in art have a moral value? Who knows.

I definitely did want to draw the parallel, since art is often also an expression of love, and people love things or people who are visually pleasing to them. There's a connection there, at least as old as the notion of the muse. Buffy is Angel's muse here, but with her in-the-flesh presence she disrupts her function as pure inspiration and becomes an active agent. She talks in misunderstanding and uses seduction; disrupting the picture of the "pure", silent muse. I hoped to emphasize this by writing the fic from her POV.

He'd never been so far away from her as then, not since the time, not so long ago, when there hadn't been an Angel in her life at all.

And when we are turning the person in front of us into an object, can there be any genuine connection?

Running With Scissors Awards

lanoyee — Tue, 02 Jul 2013 11:14:01 GMT

Last night, I received a message that I was nominated for rwsawards, a Buffy the Vampire Slayer fanworks award. Precisely, my two stories Pen & Paper and Take A Moment have been nominated.

As a perpetual lurker, this feels kind of unreal, but not at all bad. Nope, not in the least.

red_satin_doll, I am eyeing you really hard right now. ;D I don't know who else would have nominated me, so: thank you so much! ♥ You are SUCH a sweetheart and all the appreciation you shower me with makes me feel all warm and fuzzy. Also I am SO still planning to reply to all your comments! It'll happen, I swear.

On that note; I did have a few new things loitering around my brain, I guess. Fic commentary for Pen & Paper, thoughts on Buffy, Faith & loneliness, thoughts on Buffy, feminism & anarchy (they were the 7 AM kinda thoughts okay shut up), fanarts... the problem is that I am also experiencing a major creative slump. I hate when that happens. :| ~~Also I should probably use my time for Japanese homework instead of drawing Buffy looking sad oops.~~

So I just wrote a thing and you're probably gonna hate me.

lanoyee — Thu, 02 May 2013 22:03:23 GMT

Title: Take A Moment
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Characters: Tara Maclay, Buffy Summers, Dawn Summers, Scoobies
Rating: PG
Warnings: Canon character death; tw: grief.
Also literally just written, so no proofreading ever.

Last year, Dawn cried all through mother’s funeral. Start to finish.

This time, Buffy can see she’s trying to hold it in. Doesn’t last long, though. Buffy holds her sister’s tall, lanky cusp-of-womanhood frame to her own as the sobs wreck through her, stroking Dawn’s hair because it’s familiar. Silly words are ghosting through her head, like “it’s okay”, but they don’t spill out. The time could not be worse.

Even to Dawn, Buffy cannot lie now.

She glances over to Willow. Her friend, terrible witch, is silent; no tear tracks on her face, contorted in grief, or perhaps numbness: that feeling that there’s something inside you railing to burst out, but even you can’t touch it now.

But Willow is not moving, and Buffy has to count that as a positive.

Moving on, Buffy’s eyes catch Giles’; he’s been looking at Willow too. Buffy lets her gaze linger: good.

A little further back, Xander is staring numbly, Anya standing exactly a shoulder-breadth away from him looking forlorn.

It’s they that leave first; Xander has work and Anya won’t stay without him.

Giles is next. He approaches Willow and nudges her with a quiet clearing of his throat. He’ll be the one dealing with Willow, they won’t see him for a while. Or her. There’s a coven in England, best that could be done for her, really. In the best scenario, she could be reformed, make a full recovery. Chances are looking good.

Good like the one she loved most in the ground, not to come out again.

(not in the best case scenario)

(nor the worst)

Poor Giles, but Buffy can’t say she’s too sorry.

Then it’s just her and Dawn, who has stopped sobbing. Buffy squeezes her arm. That sets her off again; she turns and buries her face in Buffy’s shoulder.

Buffy almost doesn’t hear her whisper, so silent this world had become. “It hurts so much.”

“I know, honey.” Buffy’s still looking at the gravestone. The letters engraved there have been blurry all the time.

There’s a pause.

“No, you don’t,” Dawn says finally, and she draws back to give Buffy a sobering look, then turns to leave without another word. Buffy watches her, but finds she doesn’t even want to call her back.

She stares at the headstone for a long time. Memories float in and out of her head.

(if only she had noticed the dead girl more when she was alive)

(dead girl now too)

(had seen the dread of her family)

(really seen it)

(realized the pain behind the wisdom that day at the funeral home)

(questioned why she left her lover)

(and given her strength)

(all that strength she’d given unasked and without demanding)

(where had it come from, really?)

Buffy doesn’t know.

She thinks of soft arms, not toned but sure as a kinder fate; but also of a shy smile and a stutter and a silhouette hiding behind Willow and seeming smaller there than she was. She thinks of the most generous words she’s ever heard.

It’s when her face is wet with tears that she thinks maybe she won’t break.

She kneels down as a smile alights on her face, gently, touches the freshly dug-up soil where grass will soon grown from the woman’s body, given back to the earth.

And as her body is the earth, Buffy’s voice is the wind itself.

“Goodbye, Tara.”

More meta stuff. TW: depression, mention of abuse.

lanoyee — Thu, 25 Apr 2013 20:46:11 GMT

SO yesterday I told you guys I was gonna post some Buffy-related stuff from tumblr over here. I also said I'm a hopeless Spuffy shipper. And 'lo, I unearthed a short meta piece that combines these things! Basically it's about Spuffy in light of Buffy's depression.

So I’ve said before that one of the reasons I love Spuffy is because, from late S5 or so onwards, Buffy’s interactions with Spike generally give us a good idea of what place she’s in emotionally at any given time.

Like her depression arc in S6 especially. I think the show overall does pretty well on portraying Buffy’s feelings, and one major part of how her mental state is expressed is in her relationship with Spike. And I love that this depression here is not just Buffy suffering beautifully and poetically, nope. It’s messy and it’s ugly and it’s Buffy treating people kind of like shit sometimes because depression makes you do that. It distorts your perceptions of everything and makes you unable to handle much more than your own immediate needs because your whole system is just so overloaded with fun feelings like guilt and shame and feelings of worthlessness and that dead blanket of numbness that cottons up your thoughts and feelings and makes life seem like a grey, incoherent mess.

And so Buffy starts a relationship with Spike to distract herself from Adult Responsibilities which she’d like to handle but just can’t even begin to start because they’re like a big pile of blankets that are knotted into themselves and you have no idea where to even start to disentangle them, except you will inevitably have to do that. And she hates what she’s doing but she can’t get out because she’s stuck in this loop of lethargy and guilt, guilt about what she’s doing that’s so intense it paralyzes her so she ends up not doing anything about it.

So when she finally does end the relationship, the feeling I get is that she has managed to look the situation clearly in the eye and make a decision about it. Looking at it, she realizes what she knew all along, that she’d been behaving terribly, but now it’s rock-solid clear to her that she needs to stop being that person like yesterday. She needs that to move on and get to a better place and she can’t be in a relationship right now. She can’t love Spike and can’t give him what she wants, so his demanding intimacy will inevitably make her want to hit him because SPIKE STAHP with your feelings and your weird tender hope for More Between Us. So she goes to him without intent to hurt him, explains to him calmly what’s the what and expresses her regret that it had and has to be like this.

And just from that action, you can tell she’s finally on the upswing again.

This has been a post I guess.

IT. LIIIIVES.

lanoyee — Wed, 24 Apr 2013 17:23:57 GMT

Hey there, flist! Haven't seen you in a while. I'm actually more often found on tumblr these days, so if you wanna follow me, feel free! Slight warning, these days I have become a Buffyholic. That's right, I am neck-deep in all things Buffy and it doesn't look to be getting better anytime soon. You might expect some Buffy-related things in the future. MORE WARNING: I ship awful gross things like Buffy/Spike with a tragic amount of ferocity, so you may expect that also.

Okay you know what I'm just gonna lay down the law in the land of Vallish Buffy-stanning:

- SPUFFY 5EVA they just hit like 100% of my storykinks ok it's like Anotsu/Rin actually happening
- I do not actually hate Bangel. Or Briley, for that matter. IDK I'M NOT BIG ON HATING. (Except Parker. Parker hate is permitted. To the extent that Parker is significant enough for hate.)
- Buffy/ladies is VERY FINE too (Fuffy & Buffy/Satsu yes plz)
- basically Buffy/everyone
- in case you couldn't tell I LOVE BUFFY this surprises no one
- Dawn Summers is awesome. Fight me.
- I love Spike but I think he is extremely gross a lot of the time
- an overabundance of Buffy-blaming really hits my sore spot
- basically I love all the ladies by default anyway because I am a lady-lover hurr
- I love sisships, broships, friendships and all varieties of 'ships
- I'm one of those people who just LOOOVES S6 because depression storyline. I can identify.
- I also love S7!
- not sure I'm loving the comics rn though :| DON'T HURT MY PRECIOUS [name redacted] OR I WILL HURT YOU.
- I do not think the show or the writers are these SUPER DUPER FEMINIST PARAGONS and there are some things where the series seriously falls short, but there are also things it gets right imo.
- anything I have forgotten will pop up in time.

So, yeah! I'm probably gonna post some of the stuff I've been putting on my tumblr over here (mostly for red_satin_doll's convenience; cookies were mentioned) over the next few days or so, beginning with a bit of meta I wrote a while ago on the S7 episode Help, and why I like it and think it does work for me quite well.

Because I’ve just been thinking about this. And it’s not even that the episode gets a lot of hate — from what I’ve seen, it’s just not regarded as especially awesome, and I’ve seen a few people say it’s just clichéd and trite and overwrought. Which… yeah, I can see the point. Buuut I personally like it quite a lot, and I’m in the mood for waxing poetic on why.

First, I just enjoy the shots of Buffy in her new work environment! I love Buffy to pieces, so I’m happy to see her in a job she’s excited for and enjoys (even if some of the kids annoy her), and that I think she does have some talent for and could excel at if she ever has the opportunity to get herself a degree in youth psychology. This calls back her psychology class in college, which we hear she didn’t do too shabby at, considering her limitations. Moreover, this episode and the first part of S7 in general sort of make the series come full circle: it’s back to basics, with Buffy at Sunnydale High, helping students with their problems both mundane and supernatural (remember that she used to make a habit out of intimidating bullies). It makes me think especially of S1 Buffy, particularly in “The Witch”, where we see her really reach out to Amy. It’s nice to see Buffy re-realizing her own potential for empathy, and in that way, the episode connects beautifully to her season theme of gaining back the ability to love and connect to others.

Also I love that she includes Dawn in her plan to help Cassie, because I love Dawn, and I love their relationship and I enjoy seeing Dawn getting more involved in helping others out and sort of stepping in Buffy’s footsteps. In that way, even if Dawn is not a Slayer, she is part of the season outcome of monster hunting being passed on to the next generation. (If there had been a miniseries “The Awesome Adventures of the Truly Terrifying Summers Sisters”, I would’ve watched that. Because yes, I think they could’ve developed that storyline more.)

And I think the episode works in a “part of a greater theme” way because I see Cassie as an obvious parallel to a young Buffy. Both know, at age sixteen, that they will die soon and that no one will be able to stop it. Both have friends who are largely unaware of this and feel they can’t tell anyone, but clearly feel the need for their despair over this to be heard. Buffy’s ultimate failure to save Cassie, then, is very significant. It represents one of the most viscerally harrowing aspects of her own destiny: that of the girl who is destined, who indeed is made to die, to be destroyed, no matter how much she rails against the unfairness of it all. This lays the groundwork for Buffy’s fear this season, the fear of not being able to overcome this fate, this structure of a Slayer’s life and work, and the fear of not being able to save the Potentials.

(FTR, I think a lot of Buffy’s hardliner behavior later that season is grounded in that fear and sense of futility. She knows she’s going to lose some of them, she can’t get through this battle and pull everyone through, and it terrifies her. So she thinks she has to pound a sense of self-preservation and self-responsibility into them with harsh and cruel words, and she thinks she has to be hard and matter-of-fact because if she showed weakness and vulnerability, it would cause the girls to freak out. Which, no, not the right approach to things, but my point is that I’ve seen S7 Buffy described as a “cold, commanding bitch” and I think that is just plain untrue.)

And that is also the groundwork for the solution she finds in “Chosen”. And whether that works is another issue/post entirely. Okay, not really, but for the moment I’m deciding to treat it as such because I want to talk about “Help” specifically.

So, uh, yeah. Thoughts, I has ‘em. Disclaimer: I’m someone who likes to come down on the hugs and puppies side of things I love. BASICALLY I want to love on Buffy, and Buffy cares in S7, even if she sometimes fails spectacularly at expressing it, but then if she didn’t do that sometimes, in Spike’s words: wouldn’t be nearly as interesting.

And... that's it. HOW ARE YOU, FLIST? Talk to me. ~~Yes, non-Buffy things allowed.~~

I may be slightly hyper right now.

Vallie is designing tshirts now.

lanoyee — Mon, 11 Jun 2012 22:52:54 GMT

SOOO. I live. And I'm, well, not entirely idle. I just submitted my very first t-shirt design to Threadless, aaand I would love it if you guys could have a look and maybe vote for me! Thank you. ♥

Dear Yuletide Letter

lanoyee — Wed, 23 Nov 2011 23:32:21 GMT

Hello, dear Yuletide writer!

First off, thank you for writing me a story! I'm sure that whatever you choose to write, I will be happy with it, and I am very much looking forward to it. ♥

Now, to my requests... I must admit I kind of did them in a hurry, and I'm sorry this letter is a bit late! I'll try to elaborate here as well as I can.

But before that, general things I like in stories are introspection, character development, character-driven humor, wacky out-there humor, ladies doing stuff (ANY stuff), emotional tension, unlikely team-ups, awkwardness, adorability, characters bickering or even clashing, exploration of meta-narrative issues (for example, what if Rin is directly confronted with Magatsu's hate of the samurai class, which she belongs to?), characters trolling other characters ... all that kind of fun stuff. If it's well-written, it doesn't need to be all that spectacular, though I have nothing against spectacular things, either! Pretty much the only things I am violently opposed to are character/pairing bashing and EXTREME!! uncritically presented -isms. Beyond that, anything goes! Pairing-wise, I'm pretty much a multi-shipper, so do your worst.

Blade of the Immortal

Here I chose Rin as a character because... well, she is my favorite character! And I can never have too much Rin-fic! And I thought I was required to name at least one character. Ahem. I wrote "the sky's the limit" in my request, and well, that much is true! I love Blade of the Immortal and nearly all aspects to it, so it's not hard to make me happy with a fic set in this fandom. You can take one of the suggestions I gave you, which admittedly are things I'd like to see, to maybe give you a bit of an idea or an inspiration. If you have a better idea, though, by all means run with it. The only thing I would be opposed to is Shira being paired up with anyone else *shudder*. Beyond a very one-sided gurocrush on Manji.

GUNNM | Battle Angel Alita

Again, I go with the main character, and I'd like it if she were featured in the fic, but beyond that, anything is possible! Plotty fic, introspective fic, gen fic, shippy fic, canon pairings or off-the-wall things -- I'd just be super glad about fanfic in this! As I said, I'd especially love fic set in Last Order, maybe involving other characters such as Zazie, Caerula, or Sechs, simply because I don't think there is much Last Order fic out there -- and since that's a lot of the reason, original series fic would make me a very happy recipient as well! (All the exclamation marks. I AM EXCITABLE.) And, ahh, I will be TOTALLY SATISFIED if you decide to just take a theme from canon and run with it, because Alita/Gally has such a beautiful, beautiful character arc and I love it and wanna squish it and call it George. *-*;;; Ahem. (As a side note, use the names you want to use. ♥)

Dennō Coil

This is a fairly new fandom for me! And what can I say, I love it to bits. Everything about it. I think the technology is very fascinating, so if you could do something with it, that would be lovely, but the characters themselves and their relationship(s) are SO INTERESTING themselves, so a character-driven fic would also be incredibly wonderful. I would not mind shippy fic if you're inclined that way! But it's a take-it-or-leave-it thing, as the Yuukos have quite the intriguing relationship as is. Maybe they need to team up on something? Maybe they get older and decide to be friends (or something completely different) after all? Maybe they learn to manage their Imago powers together? Maybe they just run into each other by chance? Again, the sky's the limit. :) I will say one thing, though: bonus points for Mojos.

Fantaghirò

At last, Fantaghirò. This one sticks out among my chosen fandoms a bit since it's the one that most obviously screams MY CHILDHOOD!! And I'm usually not so much with the fanfic for those things, but obviously I decided to give it a go with this one this year. I feel it's one of the things where I don't mind so much! So in spite of what I just said, don't worry about messing things up. I listed Fantaghirò and the White Witch as characters, but in retrospect I realize this may not be so easy a task, so it's fine if the the White Witch doesn't play so major a role! To give you some ideas, though, maybe there is a "missing scene" during the first movie? Maybe they get up to some good old master-pupil shenanigans later on? Maybe when Fantaghirò is a bit older, they either have shenanigans or look back on what was? Or maybe you want to focus on the White Witch herself? As with ideas tossed around before, all of these are 100% optional and just named in hopes of helping you along a bit. :) IDK I feel my requests are kind of out there, so I'm trying to provide some possible prompts, ahah.

Hope all this babbling helps you a bit! Again, sorry for the late, and I will be happy about absolutely anything you write for me! Happy Yuletide, happy holidays, and all the nice things for you. ♥

- Kikoujutsuka

Icon Post!

lanoyee — Mon, 14 Mar 2011 11:42:15 GMT

Yeah, I know. You missed those.

[15] Blade of the Immortal (contains SPOILERS for vol. 22/23)
[8] Gunnm / Battle Angel Alita

BLADE OF THE IMMORTAL

1	2	3	4	5

6	7	8	9	10

11	12	13	14	15

GUNNM | BATTLE ANGEL ALITA

1	2	3	4

5	6	7	8

I am also offering art and icons at help_japan.

lanoyee — Fri, 18 Feb 2011 20:18:04 GMT

The How's My Driving? Meme

lanoyee — Sat, 12 Feb 2011 01:50:39 GMT

I've been translating some of dat BotI volume, to see what the hell was up with that.

It's not really any revelation. The guy who rapes Hyakurin is some snotty Ittō-ryū upstart who is not even apologetic about what he's doing. He goes telling her his whole backstory, which is such that he really wanted to rape his stepmother, but was found out by his brother and kicked out of the house. He plans to, err, make good on that in the future and considers Hyakurin "practice material". The fact that she's pregnant seems to only egg him on.

Luckily, Mitake slices his head in half before he gets too far. Of course, there's the obligatory Hyakurin Thinking About How Awful This Is But Being Unable To Do Anything (well, he WAS sitting on her and threatening her with a sword), and also Hyakurin Thinking About Her Baby. (Haven't been able to translate this very accurately yet.) Oh, and she also thinks about how she promised not to get involved in battle.

So. Yeah. Ugh.

On a slightly brighter note, I downloaded a post-vol. 27 chapter (198) aaand at the end of it, guess who appears! *drumrooool* ... it's Makie! Pike in hand and all. It's just some four pages and she doesn't have a lot of dialogue, so I have no idea how this is gonna play out. I'm just going "Samura, PLEASE don't mess this up" with baited breath here.

lanoyee — Wed, 02 Feb 2011 21:17:09 GMT

I fanarted some. Very quickly, in photoshop.

Brought to you by kannagara_rpg.

lanoyee — Sun, 30 Jan 2011 09:06:28 GMT

KANNA FOURTH WALL EVENT is a go!

Come by, have fun? ♥

Edit: THE MAGNIFICENT JOINT NETWORK POST OF RIN AND ALLEN, AKA THE WONDERTWINS idk.

lanoyee — Wed, 12 Jan 2011 03:36:33 GMT

Sooo there's a 4th Wall Event coming up at Kannagara. It's going to take place from January 30 to February 4, and we're already starting plotting stuff! The info entry can be found here and my thread in the plotting post is here. I'd love it it some of you lovely people would stop by! ♥

Vallie Goes Cookbook, Round Two

lanoyee — Sun, 09 Jan 2011 01:45:48 GMT

Sooo people on plurk requested that I post some recipes, because I randomly did a plurk about my Cooking Repertoire For The Lazy Single Student. What this meant is stuff that I, a fundamentally lazy student who most often cooks for only herself, regularly make. Other criteria were that it was cooked food and that it was largely homemade, because while I am not the most healthily eating person on the planet, I do make an effort to make my own food as often as possible, as opposed to, say, largely living off take-out and frozen pizza, to paint in large brushstrokes.

Let it be said that I come from a household with... sort of rustic cooking. Basically, our opinion is that everything is better with a good helping of butter in it. I can't seem to divorce that line of thought entirely, so "these recipes will totally help you lose weight!" isn't happening here. What they are is good recipes that are relatively easy to assemble and mostly vegetable-based. I think they can probably be made vegan with little effort. So, on to the recipes! Just two of several more, of course.

Both of these are meant to serve one person (though they may serve twice), so if you have more eaters, adjust accordingly.

The first was requested by homgsekrit. Here, for you:

Fried zucchini in sauce with rice

What you need:

1 small zucchini
About 1/2 cup rice (I use long-grain rice; usually basmati or jasmine rice)
1 onion
A bit of cubed bacon (optional)
Tomato puree
Cream (or a vegan substitute -- I have no experience with this, so experiment!)
A bit of stock cube
Salt
Pepper
Italian herbs
Olive oil
Water

Rinse the rice and leave to drain. Cut zucchini into slices crosswise. Chop onion finely.

For this, it is best to put on both the rice and the zucchini at about the same time, so first I will give you instructions to my pretty fool-proof rice cooking method, for people without a rice cooker. You will need a pot that has an airtight lid without holes (!) and maybe experiment a bit until you get the rice-to-water ratio that is right for your stove; I have found that at my parents' place, two parts water on one part rice is good, while here, 1 1/2 parts water on one part rice is better. I'm talking about volume-parts, by the way, so if you have a container of your choice (cup/glass/measuring cup) of rice, use the corresponding amount of water based on the same volume-unit.

So you have your rinsed rice and your water; put both in your pot and bring to a boil. Salt if you like. Once it is boiling quite intensely, put the lid on, turn off the heat and leave on the warm plate for about 20 minutes, after which time it should be done and ideally have no excess moisture left. No taking off the lid during that time! This is critical because, since we're turning off the heat, only the heat and steam contained within the pot is used to cook the rice through. This is also why it needs to be a lid without ventilation holes. The downside is that your rice may boil over a bit; I am working on ways to completely avoid that (though strangely, it is only on this hearth that this happens to me). And actually, at home, we usually further season the rice by first sautéeing a bit of onion in butter before adding the rice and adding stock cubes to the cooking water, but obviously YMMV.

So much for the rice; for the zucchini, heat up some olive oil in a non-stick frying pan. Once it is heated, put in the zucchini slices and fry for a few minutes until browned to your liking on both sides. When they are good, take them out and put them on a plate for later use. Toss the onions (and bacon, if you're using it) into the remaining oil and sauté until translucent, then add a bit of water and the other ingredients. Use your good judgement in what you feel is good... at least that's what I do, which is why I can't give you exact measurements. If you're unsure, do a lot of in-between tasting. Once the sauce is good, put the zucchini back in, wait until they're reheated, and serve when the rice is done.

Next, another very basic, traditional recipe:

Kohlrabi in white sauce with fried potatoes

Note that the kohlrabi are more or less an example here, because you can cook all sorts of vegetables in a white, roux-based sauce! Asparagus, broccoli, cauliflower, maybe also brussel sprouts... it's a really versatile recipe. It's always been one of my very favorite dishes, in all its varieties. The roux-with-cooking-liquid method is also one we apply to some meat-based dishes, but I want to focus on the vegetable-based ones here. I'm using the kohlrabi as an example because I recently had it with kohlrabi and they're relatively easy to prepare.

What you need:

1 big or 2 small kohlrabi, preferably with greens
3-4 big or medium, firm cooking or half-firm cooking ("vorwiegend festkochend") potatoes
Vegetable oil
Butter (optional; it's for the sauce, which I think should also be feasible with margarine or oil)
Flour (I just use normal type 405 wheat flour, never tried any other kinds)
Water
Salt

Cut greens off kohlrabi, peel the kohlrabi and cut into chunks. If you have/want greens in your sauce, cut some of them into strips and add to the kohlrabi. You probably won't need all of them; preserve the rest! They make good flavoring ingredients for a vegetable soup on another day.

Wash and peel potatoes and cut into pieces. Size depends on how impatient you are. ;) Smaller ones will obviously cook faster, but they tend to end up crunchier, while bigger ones will end up mostly soft with a crust.

Put the kohlrabi with the greens in a pot and cover well with water, add salt and bring to a boil. When boiling, turn down the heat and simmer until tender. At about the same time, heat up oil in a frying pan and add the potatoes when the oil is hot. Salt them also and fry on high heat for a while until they start browning a bit, then turn down the heat to medium-low and cover. Have an eye on them once in a while to ensure that they don't burn, but they should be fine.

Drain the kohlrabi and preserve the cooking liquid; put its container near your stove. Melt the butter (or heat the oil) in the pot you previously used for the kohlrabi; no need to use a new one. Once melted/hot, add in some flour and mix vigorously with a whisk to get a homogenous mass. I use between 1-3 teaspoons (probably; this is another of those gauging things). In the end, the mixture should be somewhat solid, but still plenty moist. The secret to not getting any flour clumps in your sauce is: 1) SWING THAT WHISK. Swing it constantly, quickly, vigorously. 2) Add the liquid in steps, stirring what you added into your sauce to blend in-between. Once this is done, add a ladle full of the kohlrabi cooking water and whisk thoroughly again; repeat until you have a sauce. It should be a fluid sauce, but not too thin; a bit thicker than water. Let the sauce simmer for a while, stirring occasionally with the whisk; this is important to get rid of the flour-y taste. If your sauce thickens too much, add some more fluid, but use sparsely. Once that taste has gone away, season to taste, add the kohlrabi and greens back in, heat back up, serve.

Notes: we use vegetable oil for the potatoes because frying them in butter from the raw state on would risk burning. You can, of course, also use previously cooked potatoes instead!

Bon appétit!

Yuletide Reveal

lanoyee — Tue, 04 Jan 2011 21:12:41 GMT

This year, I was just slightly more active than usually at Yuletide. I wrote two fics -- my assigned fics and two short treats. It was a good experience, all in all! I actually had a lot of fun writing these, more so than in the past years that I participated in Yuletide, to be honest. I also got my fic in on time. I tried to write fic that's respectful in terms of gender and race, and also fun, and I hope I somewhat succeeded.

Title: Candlelight!
Fandom: K-ON!
Characters: Tainaka Ritsu, Akiyama Mio, Kotobuki Tsumugi, Hirasawa Yui
Pairings: Kotobuki Tsumugi/OC
Rating: G
Word Count: 4388
Author's Notes: I somewhat recently read about how Japanese female mainstream musicians (we're talking Hamasaki Ayumi et al here) use their lyrics to express criticism of society and create a kind of female space, and that stuck with me. When I was assigned K-ON! for Yuletide, it pretty much immediately sprung to my mind to do something with that. I also read that young Japanese women still have to deal with sexism at the workplace, so both of those things sort of clicked and produced this.

Tainaka Ritsu was not happy. After dark on a winter evening, she walked up the stairs, at the top of which an outside corridor and a half a dozen doors waited for her. One of these doors was the one to her apartment. It was cold and wet, the snow that had fallen the night before and well into the morning already half-melting and turning into slush everywhere, rendering her shoes sopping wet. She really needed to invest in winter shoes. Turned out taking care of yourself wasn't so easy when you lived alone and your parents weren't around to nag you about it all the time.

So, Tainaka Ritsu was not happy. In fact, she was veering somewhat dangerously close to “miserable.” But the evening still had a chance to turn out great; Ritsu was of the firm conviction that it was never too late for fun. And she had an idea about how to get it. As soon as she had entered her small two-room apartment, she flopped down on her sofa and took out her cell phone to text Mio. Her thumb darted over the tiny keyboard in a flurry.

Mio,

let's meet up tonight
I wanna jam!

Ritsu

She clicked “send” and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

After about a minute of barely moving, Ritsu blinked. So Mio wasn't going to answer immediately. That miffed her a little, but on the other hand, it left her some time to get comfy and to get some food; for just in that moment, her stomach growled pointedly.

Ah, but that would require effort.

Ritsu leaned back on her sofa and stared at the ceiling. It wasn't a particularly interesting ceiling: it was a very light pink shade, but tinted yellow-ish by the lamplight, and around the edges where it met the walls, some faint stains could be seen. Well, the spiderwebs were, perhaps, slightly interesting in the context of naggy parents coming over and berating her about them. To avoid that, Ritsu did occasionally remove them when her family announced a visit, but she didn't always remember to. Or sometimes, she just couldn't be bothered.

During the next two hours, Ritsu heated up a serving of frozen ramen. She rarely cooked for herself, mostly because she wasn't very good at it. Ritsu did not like doing things she wasn't good at. So she resorted to this, and she'd only started buying the frozen stuff, rather than instant, after Mio had admonished her about it in her annoying-but-cute big sisterly way. (It had involved at least one smack on the head.)

Furthermore, she watched TV. She zipped past the cooking and other homemaking shows because they annoyed her and found a few mediocre comedy shows instead. Fed up with them soon, she finally caught a game show and had a decent time laughing at the participants' mishaps for a while.

As the end credits were rolling, she looked at her cell phone. It was silent. She turned her head back toward the television with the intention of deciding on what to do next. A few seconds later, she caught herself still staring at the screen. There was a shampoo ad on. (That reminded her she had to go shopping for cosmetics soon.)

Sighing, she switched the TV off and, after another look toward her slumbering cell phone, got out her drumsticks and drummed on the sofa a bit. It felt aimless and was sorely un-fun compared to jamming with the other members of Afterschool Teatime, which she would've preferred to do, but what could she do? She furrowed her brows and beat the poor sofa harder.

Then the phone rang.

Ritsu jumped and threw her drumsticks about, then ducked as they fell back down on her. “Ouch” she muttered, then dove for the cell phone on the coffee table. As expected, an answering message from Mio.

Ritsu,

sorry, didn't have time today. Was out with co-workers.

Mio

Ritsu sighed again and shook her head. Before she was done shaking it, her thumb was already hammering up a response, but then she thought better of it. Nothing would come of it, not today. And Ritsu herself was tired, too.

“You sure go out with your coworkers a lot,” she said to the empty room.

---

The next day, Ritsu stood next to the copy machine at the office, waiting for it to make its twenty copies. She had her hands in her pockets, which she could afford to do because she was pretty sure she was alone, and stared at the wall with the copying machine's steady click-clack echoing in her mind.

Suddenly, she heard voices. Ritsu jumped out of her reverie and took her hands out of her pockets, putting on a fake innocent look. The voices came closer and seemed to stop just around the corner. She recognized Mr. Nakata, the department manager, and Mr. Sugiura, a colleague. One who was close to promotion, as the rumor had it. Ritsu sighed thinking of that; no one had ever intimated that she deserved one.

“Still, that is risky,” said Nakata. “I don't want to be responsible for the company needlessly throwing out money.”

“Of course, of course,” Sugiura conceded in a humble voice, “your assessment is quite correct, mister department manager, sir. Regardless, if you allow me this boldness... I think it might well be worth the risk.”

The copying machine had come to a halt, and when she noticed, Ritsu opened the scanner's lid to exchange the page there for a new one. She clicked through the settings menu.

“How about you write up a draft for your campaign,” Nakata's deep, steady voice continued floating in from the other room, “and then we'll see if it is worth it.“

Ritsu perked up. A new campaign?

The company she worked at was a PR company. They made advertisements for all sorts of clients on a moderate scale. Usually, there wasn't much risk involved in this; they did their thing, and most of the time it worked. But Ritsu had heard talk of a new, big-name client – a manufacturer of sweets that required a large-scale sort of promotion. That was probably what they were talking about.

When Sugiura answered, there was elation in his voice. “Yes, of course! I'll get to it right away!“

The machine's ever self-same sound was a nice background noise for wandering thoughts. And wander, Ritsu's thoughts did, mostly to how she really missed practicing with the rest of the band, and even she was willing to concede that it must've been very long since the last time if she wanted to practice.

Then, a stroke of genius hit her smack dab in the face. Of course! This was an excellent opportunity to get Afterschool Teatime some revenue! Now only to plot her dramatic entrance with which she would present her grand plan.

Ritsu's mind very quickly went through various ways in which to make her presence known to her co-workers, including but not limited to a Tarzan imitation, a Tsukkomi routine, the portrayal of a chagrinned young maiden, and jumping out of a cake. The last one was ruled out fairly quickly due to lack of cake (though she was tempted to go out and remedy that, maybe during lunch break).

In the end, she decided to go with a solemn air. That sounded like it would have the most effect on her straight-laced colleagues. She started arranging the very serious words she would say and the very serious pose with which she would waltz over to them in her head.

Then the copying machine halted.

Ritsu arranged the stacks of copies in her arms, and like that, she squared her shoulders and straightened her limbs. She waited for a flash of rightness to hit her. And waited. Then she blinked. “Hmm. Not quite yet,” she thought, then lifted her chin a little and found it good that way.

“Well, I'll be going then,” Nakata said.

A surge of panic went through Ritsu, and first she froze, then she wibbled, and finally she raced over to the lounge, where the voices were coming from, magically not losing any papers in the process, though they did get a bit disorderly in her arms.

The next few seconds seemed like hours. In slow-motion steps, each clearly defined from the moment the foot's front touched the ground, to the knees giving in and bouncing back up and the foot lifting off the ground again to give way for the other, Ritsu approached Nakata, who was, in the beginning, turned sideways from her direction and steadily turning his back on her, heading for the door.

There needed to be something done, an act of desperation (and it was here that Ritsu lost her first sheet of paper, though she hardly took note of it)... a scream!

“Mr. Department Manager!” Ritsu cried out, putting all her heart blood into it. She thought she could hear an echo, which was technically impossible.

The department manager turned back around and looked at Ritsu, who was quivering in her pile of copies she'd lost. All eyes were on her.

“What is it, Tainaka?” Mr. Nakata said, a hint of disdain in his voice.

Ritsu tried responding, but her thoughts were jumbled. “I-I-I, I have an –”

“Oh, did you finish your copies?” He interrupted her, raising an eyebrow at the mess.

Reflexively, Ritsu stood straight. “Yes, sir!”

“Good. Why don't you bring them to your supervisor.” Not a question. And with that, he turned around again.

Ritsu lunged.

She caught hold of his stiffly ironed suit jacket, not caring for the moment if she crumpled it. She had a mission and it was important. “Mr. Department Manager, sir! I have a request!”

The expression with which he graced her was mortifying, and Ritsu could do nothing but stare as he wrested his jacket out of her hands. “Tainaka,” he said gravely, “I would suggest you fulfill your duties first.”

With that, he was off, and Ritsu was left with the mess. She looked around for help, but was met with figurative walls of stone. (Which, judging from some of her co-worker's looks, threatened to transcend figurativeness and become real.)

---

When she collapsed onto her sofa that evening, Ritsu briefly considered not texting Mio. She felt exhausted and shamed from a day spent trying to make up for her transgression. People had not let her live it down, so she had groveled to them.

Upon returning, she'd also found out that she'd forgotten to ventilate her apartment this morning, so she had to open the windows and let the cold in now.

This resulted in a disgruntled and cold Ritsu. She wanted to get a blanket and huddle in it, but she didn't want to move.

Well, texting Mio would not require moving much, so the idea of not doing so was quickly discarded. She reached blindly into the handbag (a rather sporty edition) lying next to her on the sofa and fished for her cell phone.

When she flipped it open, she found she had a message from Yui.

hey Ritsu

me n Ui are gonna throw a xmas party
wanna come?

Yui

Despite the cold, a bit of warmth suddenly filled Ritsu, and a small smile appeared on her face. Of course, it was Christmas in another week. She'd almost forgotten. Count on Yui to never forget anything that involved food and presents. Which was just as well; the party at Yui's was Former Light Music Club tradition, anyway.

She texted back, fingers just a mite less nimble than usually.

hey Yui,

sure do! I'll tell Mio, you tell Mugi and Azusa

Ritsu

Then she slumped for a bit, and finally stretched and jumped up from the sofa with a groaned “go!.” Once standing, she faced the kitchen. The piles of dishes made her seriously consider flopping right back down again.

Ritsu took a few steps toward the kitchen, forcing herself through each of them. Her cell phone rang.

She sighed. “Should've expected that,” she said any turned back around. Yep, an answer from Yui.

ok! was its only content.

“Geez, Yui,” said Ritsu and shook her head with a smile. She decided to text Mio after all.

Yui's having a Christmas party
we're invited

Ritsu

After sending the message, she braved the kitchen.

She got a short acknowledgment for an answer three hours later.

---

“I really wonder what's up with Mio,” Ritsu mused into her latte macchiato that weekend as she sat in a cozy mall café to relax between shopping bouts. It was strange; the other girls were busy, too, but they usually answered their texts in a timely fashion. Granted, she didn't text them as much as Mio – but something was wrong, yes, it was.

Suddenly, she became aware of a steady thumping next to her. On the side of the window. How strange.

She slowly turned her head to the left – and jumped. Pressed against the window pane, to which Ritsu sat very close, was a beaming Mugi. She wiped it with her mitten-clad hand in what seemed to be a wave gone wrong. Ritsu stared at her, took a quick look around for possible angry waitresses, and then frantically waved at Mugi to come inside.

“Ahh?” Obviously, Mugi was saying something, but the sound was muffled. Ritsu kept gesticulating, in hopes that Mugi would comprehend.

Finally, the confusion cleared from Mugi's face and she nodded, still with that angelic smile on her face. The she tugged at the arm of the girl next to her and they both vanished in the direction of the café's entrance.

Huh. She was here with a girl. Ritsu tried to remember where she'd met that girl before, because clearly, it had to be someone she knew, but came up with nothing. Suspicious.

But she had no time to figure the mystery out on her own, for already, she heard Mugi calling for her. “Ritsu!” She said with excitement while walking up to the table, then promptly installed herself there. Her companion stood around, fidgeting, but Mugi patted the seat next to her own, so the girl sat down with a shy look at Ritsu.

She was pretty. A tad less girly than Mugi herself, who wore an orderly skirt with nothing but black nylons under it even in the midst of winter, but definitely feminine. She had short, straight hair and narrow, but no less beautiful eyes in a slim face and was noticeably taller than Mugi even sitting down.

(Thinking that she had spent six years of her life going with the skirt-and-socks look now made Ritsu shiver. As soon as she'd gone on to university, freed from the regulations of school uniforms, she'd taken to wearing pants the great majority of the time. Recently, she'd conceded to skirts a little more often because there seemed to be a certain pressure for neat suits at work, but she wasn't fond of it, and never would be.)

Shaking herself out of her musings, Ritsu's look wandered from the girl to Mugi herself, who seemed to be tense waiting for something.

“You could've just said hello,” she said, quirking her eyebrow at Mugi.

“Oh, well, yes,” Mugi admitted, rubbing her thick hair a bit, “but I – I understand, Ritsu!”

“What?”

“I didn't want to hold you back from looking at my girlfriend.”

There was a bout of silence, in which Mugi gasped quietly and clapped her hands to her mouth. The girl next to her – Mugi's girlfriend – flushed a little.

“Your girlfriend,” Ritsu repeated, staring blankly at the two of them.

“Yes,” said Mugi, now flushing as well and regarding the table with great interest.

“Okay, not that I'm – okay. You gotta tell me the whole story.” With that, Ritsu leaned in, putting her elbows on the table and propping her chin up on them. She receded a little when she saw Mugi's girlfriend's uncomfortable look, feeling a bit sorry for her.

Mugi looked embarrassed, but she glowed with pride and... love? Whatever it was, it suited her well. “We met back in September at work. She works for a company that sometimes cooperates with mine, and we worked together on a project. It turns out she studied at the same university as we did, but we just never ran into each other back then.” Her smile widened. “Anyway, her name's Sayu. I'm glad I finally get to introduce you!”

Sayu smiled tentatively, as well. “Pleased to meet you.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Ritsu said mechanically, but then caught herself. She returned Sayu's smile. “My name's Ritsu. I know Mugi from back in high school. We were all part of the light music club!” That, she finished off with a grin. She would never not be proud of her club. Her band. Even at the times when they didn't actually do anything together, which seemed to get more and longer lately.

“Mh, Mugi told me about it. It sounds so fun.” That sounded honest, and Sayu seemed to be opening up a little.

“You should meet the other members,” Mugi said.

Ritsu wanted to comment on that, but the waitress came by to take Mugi's and Sayu's orders. Getting flustered again, Mugi reached for the menu and excused herself to the waitress while burying her nose deeply in it. The waitress left them again, and Sayu grabbed the side o the menu closest to her so that she could also have a look. The two of them nestled together, and Ritsu could see how Mugi's free hand took Sayu's.

It was heartwarming and made Ritsu smile again. “It was fun,” she said, and wanted to follow up saying that was still fun, but then stopped.

She wasn't entirely sure.

---

That night, Ritsu was in a considerably better mood than the days before. She staggered up the stairs to her home with her two shopping bags, which weren't very full, but she was pretty spent after a day of shopping for presents with Mugi and Sayu. But this was definitely the good kind of spent, the kind that transcends sore feet and cold hands and just filled you with a happy glow of contentment.

Once arrived at her door, she set down her bags and took out the key, then opened up. She was greeted by her apartment, shrouded in darkness, the only illuminated part the cut-out of the entrance door through which moon- and lamplight seeped in. Ritsu turned on the light.

It was only then that she noticed the piece of paper on the floor. She didn't remember a piece of paper lying on that precise spot; though one could not always tell, for Ritsu wasn't the most orderly of people. It was just an odd spot for a folded sheet of paper to lie in.

Maybe somebody had thrown it through the mail slot in her door? Shivering with cold, Ritsu quickly took in her bags and closed the door behind her, and bent down to take the paper in her hands. Taking off her shoes, she entered the living area, where she deposited her bags on the coffee table, a little precariously on some of the assorted stuff piled up there, and plopped onto the sofa.

Just then, her cell phone rang. Mio. Ritsu opened it with apprehension; it was unusual that Mio took the initiative in texting.

What do you think of my lyrics?

Mio

Lyrics? Ritsu stared at her cell phone's tiny screen, dumbfounded.

“Oh, right! The paper!” She finally exclaimed when it had dawned on her. She took the sheet of paper back up again and unfolded it. Oh, yes, that was Mio's handwriting. Ritsu started reading, bracing herself for an onslaught of saccharine cheesiness.

The lyrics went such:

Every day I try so hard but it's not good enough.
Every night we go out I feel like crying but you won't let me off.
Criticism by day, overbearing friendliness by night.

Every day spent serving tea, wishing for a chance.
Every night spent drinking beer, longing for respite.
And still I can't ever do it right.

How long do you expect me to hold still?
You're killing, you're killing, you're killing my music.
You're blowing out the light.

Later on, Ritsu would never recall just how long she sat there, in the living room, without moving, just blankly staring at the rumpled sheet of handwritten lyrics. And holding onto it as if it were the most precious thing in the world.

She only woke up when tears threatened to spill out of her eyes.

“Oh,” she said, quietly, and let the tears flow. They were only a few.

They burned a little on her skin, so she wiped them off after all. Then she grabbed her cell phone again.

Mio,

those are the best lyrics you've ever written! We should make that a song.

Ritsu

Her stomach grumbled. Time to make some food. Only a new message prevented her. A message from Mio.

For a message from Mio, dinner could wait.

Ritsu,

no way! It's embarrassing

Mio

Ritsu smirked and found that she meant it. Then, she called Mio. It rang twice before Mio picked up.

“Ritsu?”

“That's right, it's me! Hell-ooo, Mio!”

“What's the matter?”

Ritsu laughed.

“I'm not making a song out of those lyrics.”

“Why not?”

“I told you. It's embarrassing I wrote them on a whim.”

That gave Ritsu a pause. How to best address this? “You did?”

“Yeah.”

Ritsu inhaled, exhaled, and answered in a quieter voice. “But... you wrote them out of real feeling, didn't you?”

Silence.

It stretched, and stretched, and –

“Mio?”

“Ah, well. … yes.”

“I know, Mio.”

“You do?” Surprise there. Ritsu briefly felt something approximating hurt that Mio didn't trust her to understand, but she did have to admit she wasn't always the most empathetic person.

She hoped she could convey her honesty now. “Yeah.”

Another silence, but different. Comfortable. For some reason, Ritsu felt that they had shared something very valuable.

All the more reason to share it with the others, too. She grinned.

“So you should definitely make it a song! We'll send it in to a major label and go big with it!”

Of course, Mio reacted with indignation. “Whaaaaaaaaat?”

Ritsu doubled over with laughter and rolled off the sofa, hitting her head on the coffee table. “Ouch!”

“... Ritsu, are you okay?”

She didn't move. “Yeah, I'm fine.”

---

Afterschool Teatime, after a long separation, finally came together again at Yui's Christmas party the following weekend. Sawa came too, as did Jun. It was good to see them all. Familiar.

Mugi brought Sayu, too, deciding that it was as good a time as any to introduce her to the whole band, and wanting to spend Christmas with her besides. Everyone welcomed Sayu warmly, even if they boggled at the notion at first. Sawa cried in jealousy, as did Yui, though her tears were a lot less heartfelt.

They had stew followed by tea and cake, then exchanged gifts secret Santa style, as they usually did, then they played video games, taking turns in playing two on two matches, the others sitting around the players, commenting, teasing and laughing. A lot of laughter was had. Sawa tried to get Mio to wear a skimpy Santa girl outfit, which ended on Azusa in the end, who turned as red as the costume.

It was after dark and everyone was getting happily tired , leaning back and relaxing, when Ritsu's eyes met Mio's. They looked at each other, then Ritsu nodded to Mio, who blushed and looked away, but nodded in agreement after all.

Both of them got up, not an easy task when you were full and tired and the sofa behind you was so very nice to lean on. The others took a moment to catch on, looking up at them one after another.

“What are you doing?” Yui said, in a voice that indicated she wanted them to stay put on the ground to excuse her own laziness.

“Surprise!” Ritsu told her, then turned and ran into the corridor. She had deposited her cajón, which she had acquired after getting a steady income, there. She took it and sprinted back into the living room, where Mio was setting up Ui's keyboard and her own bass, using Yui's amp. Ui had taken up the piano, for somewhere along the way, she had admitted that she had an insane talent for music (or for everything) and that she enjoyed it.

Ritsu put her cajón to the left of the amp, to the right of which the keyboard stood. She sat on it and looked, with quite some pleasure, at the puzzled expressions greeting her. Specifically, she sought Mugi's gaze out, and when they made eye contact, she grinned at her. “Hey, Mugi! Can you come up here and help us?”

Mugi blinked, then got up, all eyes on her. Ritsu turned to Mio. “Get out the sheets!”

And Mio did. She took them out of her bag and deposited them on the keyboard's music stand, after which she motioned for Mugi to sit down on the chair in front of the keyboard. As Mugi did so, Mio asked, “Do you think you can play this spontaneously?”

Mugi studied the sheets earnestly. “If you give me a few minutes, I think I can,” she said after having a good look at them. “Is this a new song you two have been working on?”

Mio smiled, and Ritsu was surprised to note she actually looked somewhat confident. “You'll see,” she quite simply said before sitting down on the amp. She experimentally let her fingers glide over her bass's strings, looking happy and pleased with the deep sound emanating upon the light touch.

After a while, Mugi finally said: “I think I got it!”

Ritsu, who had slumped a little, straightened again and put her legs to the sides of the cajón, bending down again, but in a poised seat instead of the previous lazy one. She looked at Mio and Mugi. “Let's go!”

The both of them nodded at her, smiling, and Mio got up, facing their small, curious crowd. “Dear everyone who is assembled here today! We would like to introduce a new song to you: 'Don't Blow Out The Light'!”

Title: Stories Thought and Sung
Fandom: Blade of the Immortal
Characters: Yoshino Dōa, Asano Rin
Rating: G
Word Count: 348
Author's Notes: I... feel like this is WAY too short, which it is because I wrote it on 12/24 and, as such, did not have much time to expand on it. Dōa is so interesting to write about; her conflict and definition of self, identity and the idea of "home" especially. Since I mentioned the bullying we know she received from the other kids in her village, that line about her mother was important to me, to sort of counterweight that characterization.

The night before they enter Edo Castle, Dōa thinks of Kuichiru.

She thinks of sitting at her grandmother's house, around the fire, with her cousins, listening to her grandmother singing them stories about great heroes, sacred animals and the gods living around them. Strange occurrences, coming face to face with destiny, for better or for worse.

She thinks back to the summer of her twelfth year, when the girls started talking about tattoos and becoming adults while playing children's games, hunting small fish with spears made of grass. Some of them giggled and whispered when they thought she couldn't hear (but she had excellent ears), “Kuichiru can't get a tattoo. She's not one of us.” For that, she threw them in the river.

After, she had to apologize, “not because you weren't right,” her mother said, “but we must always apologize.” She did it for her mother's sake, but felt terrible throughout.

Because she knew. She knew they were right, those girls, and Nuiteku was right when he commented on how different she was. She wasn't Utari and she wasn't Yamato and even though she loved her parents, she would never belong anywhere in the world.

Kuichiru hated that they were right.

Dōa thinks of these things in the dark of Rin's bedroom. She thinks that sometimes, the place you belong to isn't a place, but a person. Before, she thought that was more reliable, safer. Right now, with Isaku gone, swallowed up by a hole in the earth that spits corpses back out, she's not so sure. Her safety isn't even the issue, but she can't help thinking of it, here in the dark.

Maybe it's the cursed house. She should work on the window some more.

Rin's breathing is even and Dōa doesn't know if she's sleeping. She speaks to her regardless. “Rin, sing something to me. A story.”

Rin makes sleepy, annoyed noises. “Sing you? What?”

“Something.”

Rin sings her a song about a woman who wanted jump off a bridge. “It's stupid,” Dōa says, and then they are both silent.

Title: Good Boy
Fandom: Blade of the Immortal
Characters: Asano Rin, Hyakurin, Magatsu Taito
Rating: G
Word Count: 218
Author's Notes: Now, this? This was just pure fun. Magatsu just lends himself so easily to topping and trolling.

Hyakurin is amazing.

If Rin ever doubted it, today saw any of those doubts vanishing, poof, into thin air. Out of the window with the smoke of Hyakurin's pipe. They weren't many, anyway. And from now on, she will worship the ground Hyakurin walks on for nothing but the look on Magatsu's face.

He's indignant and scowling and has sweat running down his face, and it's glorious. Rin doesn't hate Magatsu as much as she does others he has declared alliance with; sometimes she isn't sure she truly hates him at all. But she can still derive a whole lot of pleasure from this. There is a petty part in her that kind of likes a chance to gloat and feel superior to the very strong men around her.

Even if she did nothing for it and it isn't her superiority at all, evidently. She knows nothing about gambling and thus couldn't have done this. Couldn't have reduced the second-in-command of the infamous Ittō-ryū to desperation – and a steadily shrinking amount of mon on his side. It makes her think she'd like to try learning, maybe, if she has time.

Finally, Magatsu throws his arm in the air and says, “Fine, fine! I give up!”

Hyakurin snickers and says, “Good boy.”

Rin cheers without reservation.

Yuletide Recs!

lanoyee — Thu, 30 Dec 2010 04:49:13 GMT

Yup, finally, here's my recs post for stories I enjoyed this Yuletide. It was a good one! First, I want to rec the two wonderful stories that were given to me this year. Because they are wonderful. ♥

Persuasion to Joy
Fandom: Huâ Mùlán | Mulan (2009)

A wonderful take on what happens after the movie, through the eyes of the Princess of Rouran, or the new Empress of Wei. We get a beautiful insight into her character, how she deals with her new life and how she relates to the other characters. It rings so true and complements canon perfectly. ♥ I particularly loved her sassy maid and the end scene. Ohh, the end scene.

This is definitely everything I wanted for Yuletide.

Two Wet Swallows
Fandom: Kaze Hikaru

This is a lovely little piece, an in-between scene between Sei and Okita. It's so sweet and so them and so adorable... and it has a picture by Utamaro! "Kamiya-sannn, you're so mean to me" will NEVER get old. ♥ I am so happy that I got this as a treat.

And now on to the others:

21st Century Girls
Fandom: Nijusseiki Shounen | 20th Century Boys (Manga)

I don't even know the canon of this very well, but it works perfectly well with just a knowledge of the basic premise. It's a story of very life-like recollections of girlhood, interwoven perfectly with an oppressive present, with the revelation of all truths carefully pieced together like a puzzle. Great storytelling, and a great take on how girly things can save the world even without superpowers.

On the Moonlit Road of Dreams
Fandom: Heian jidai | Heian Period

Heian Period RPF, you say? Hell yes! In this story, Sei Shōnagon and Murasaki Shikibu must save Her Majesty the Empress. They do so very expertly in a very court-lady way, managing to put aside their rivalry for the duration of the plot. Delightfully amusing.

Brush Talk
Fandom: Heian jidai | Heian Period

And more of that; this time, a quieter tale of an unexpected meeting in a remote temple. I was very amused by how much of a fangirl Sei Shōnagon is and how Murasaki Shikibu steadfastly tries to resist the adorable -- but of course, she must succumb. ♥

Gingerbread Betrayal
Fandom: Fairy Tales & Related Fandoms, Hänsel und Gretel | Hansel and Gretel (Fairy Tale)

The aftermath of a fairy tale isn't always happy ever after, and it certainly isn't for Gretel. The ending is especially haunting.

A Dance in Iron Shoes
Fandom: Fairy Tales & Related Fandoms

Snow White doesn't get to live happily ever after, either, in this story, but she does get to be resourceful as hell. This is based on the darker original fairy tales and puts a modern spin on it by letting the princess be her own rescuer.

Monkey pays for Hot Cake
Fandom: Xî yóu jì | Journey to the West - Wú Cheng'en

The premise of Journey to the West as told by a seller of hot cakes. This left an impression on me due to the very strong narrating voice.

That Dare Not Speak
Fandom: Juuni Kokki | Twelve Kingdoms

This is an engaging, bittersweet take on Gyōsō/Taiki as seen by an older Taiki.

lanoyee — Sat, 20 Nov 2010 08:53:04 GMT

The How's My Driving? Meme

Inkdrops On Paper, Blade of the Immortal, Rin gen

lanoyee — Mon, 01 Nov 2010 14:56:29 GMT

Title: Inkdrops On Paper
Fandom: Blade of the Immortal
Character: Asano Rin
Rating: PG
Warnings: Very slight prison arc spoilers.
Summary: When there is a bigger picture to consider, Rin needs to write things down.
Notes: I more or less wrote this on a whim. Unedited.

In the top left drawer of the elaborate old chest (in the family for generations now), that's where the writing utensils are located. They've been there for as long as Rin can remember, and she never moved them; she's moved few things in the house from their rightful places of old, ever since she unwittingly became its master. She opens the drawer and takes out what she needs: a block of ink, half worn down, a grinding stone, designed econocmically and much used and showing all the signs, a small brush, well-cared for through the years. A small water basin complete with minuscule ladle and a porcelain support for the brush, so that it would not get ink on the table while drenched with it.

Out of another drawer, she takes a yellowed stack of paper sheets; thin and frail Japanese paper, perfect for quick brushstrokes. The sheets have been sitting in there for a while and are slightly wrinkled around the edges.

All these things, she puts on the desk in her bedroom. Aligns them one by one: the paper in front of her, the rest of the items to the right. Out of the tiny basin, she pours a bit of water onto the grinding stone and begins to rub the inkstone against it in rhythmic, familiar movements. The sensation of the surfaces grinding against each other reaching her fingers through the length of the stick is interesting and brings back memories.

She does not write often these days. A letter of apology or two, to Manji; a few stray notes here and there. The poem she recited to Kuroi Sabato. Maybe it was that last which turned her off of it, or maybe it's simply that she has neither time nor reason to now. This, too, was markedly different before her parents were killed. She went to school back then. A prestigiious school for samurai children where she enjoyed a fine instruction. She exercised her writing daily there, each week a set of new kanji to memorize and learn how to write. Calligraphy never was her best subject; she was all right, but her writing was a bit on the sloppy side, and she never quite connected to the art aspect of it. Beyond the usual scriblings of a young child when of the appropriate age, she never felt compelled to draw pictures, either.

In conclusion, it is out of necessity that she takes the brush up now, dips it in the newly mixed ink liquid. There are things she needs to write down, so that she may not forget them. She's usually fine formulating her thoughts just in her head, but frankly, most of the time they aren't things prone to complexity. Now Manji has vanished into thin air, and that in itself would be strange enough, but manageable. Still, it's been weeks, searching the city with Hyakurin and coming up empty-handed, and some idea has started coalescing in Rin that there might be more to this, especially as she's seen so many policemen in town lately. Which might be her imagination, but she thinks it's not. Or rather, she has to take the possibility that it might not be into consideration. And so, in this - in this, she needs to be in the clear about the bigger picture and the details as well, all at once, and that's why she needs to write them down.

She raises the saturated brush above the paper and issues a little gasp when, before she can do anything about it, two drops of ink fall down from its tip and hit the paper in big splotches. That makes her pause, and blink, staring in surprise as the inkspots widen a bit and get slightly fuzzy around the edges, the paper's fibers absorbing the ink.

There are the blots, indelibly staining the once clean paper, and Rin, for a moment, has the delusion that they are somehow challenging her.

Shaking her head, the corners of her mouth quirking upward briefly, she begins to write.

lanoyee — Fri, 17 Sep 2010 16:05:54 GMT

The How's My Driving? Meme

lanoyee — Sat, 21 Aug 2010 10:38:46 GMT

I am offering fic and art at help_pakistan, a community to help raising donation funds for the flood victims in Pakistan.

Visiting House, Anotsu/Rin

lanoyee — Mon, 16 Aug 2010 12:09:53 GMT

Aaand another repost.

Title: Visiting House
Fandom: Blade of the Immortal
Pairing: Anotsu/Rin
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Worksafe, but QUITE POSSIBLY not brainsafe.
Summary: Dōa is a troublemaker, so Rin really shouldn't be surprised when she brings Anotsu Kagehisa home.
Note: This is something I hashed out in a hurry for springkink, and honestly... it probably shows. I never ended up getting it beta'd, either. I'm basically just throwing it out here.

Dōa is a troublemaker. She breaks things and insults and generally acts before she thinks. The very first morning she stayed at the Asano house, she broke in a wall, and when communication was in order, she always implicitly ordered Isaku to do it. Just like that, with that bossy look in her eyes, without even saying a word. And Isaku went along with it, of course. Anyway, Dōa is a troublemaker – so Rin really shouldn't be surprised when she brings Anotsu Kagehisa home.

But the truth is, the sorry truth is, she isn't prepared for that at all. Anotsu Kagehisa is standing in the entrance like a block of granite in a mass of chalk: solid and obtrusive and way more persistent than anything else. She's a little scared of the not-solid things he might attract, ghosts and memories and unpleasantness. But he doesn't; right now, he doesn't, he's just standing there smirking with a hint of incredulity (yeah, he better). His eyes meet hers head-on; staring match. That damn smirk doesn't leave his face, and that's enough to have her seething inside, because it's like he's saying: I still win. He still wins and, if he had the chance, he'd do the same thing all over again. Cold, cold triumph.

Dōa's expression is unreadable. „Brought the Tōshu along,“ she says in a casual manner.

„Take your shoes off,“ Rin tells both of them, because she's seen Dōa lift her foot to step on the wooden planks, and really, the girl's gotta learn to stick to some rules. So be it, is what she thinks, and it sounds way too much like capitulation, so she tells herself that she's taking up the challenge. Meeting things head-on, too. Anotsu isn't the only one around here who can resist ghosts.

When they've taken her shoes off, obligingly, Dōa tells Rin to go make tea. „Make it yourself; you're the one who invited him,“ Rin retorts in a tone that is decidedly sour. Dōa gets that strange glint in her eyes, or rather, one not quite like the ones she's seen before, and Rin should be suspicious, really, especially as Dōa skips off without a word of protest.

So there's only Anotsu left, still obtrusive, and she glares at him. „You seem to be doing quite well,“ he says, still smirking.

Rin smirks back. „As you can see,“ she answers, just as conversationally, and leads him to the front room, the same room where, two and a half years ago, he killed her father and gave his men permission to have their sick, sick ways with her mother. She does it deliberately. It's the only room he should, by all means, be allowed to enter in this house. Ever. And she knows he'll remember; that is also why. She's just petty enough for that, and okay with being so. Gosh, do forgive her a little pettiness toward the guy who ruined her life.

They sit down, and Rin watches Anotsu's eyes graze the walls as he kneels across from her, mannerly and almost demure. He has the decency not to smirk now, and he even refuses to make eye contact for a moment. Rin doesn't know if she's glad for it; it's congruent with the new picture of Anotsu Kagehisa that's been painted in her mind during their trip to Suwa – a more human Anotsu. With failings, like everyone else. Like her. And now that he's here, in her house, she's not sure if she's ready for it. She thought she'd dealt with it quite well, but it's one thing to learn something new in a strange environment, and another entirely to integrate that new thing into the oldest part of her life. Having him in her own home. Intrusive, like before. It's awkward, and she's smarting just a little.

He's been looking at the walls, the paper screens, and the floor, not at her. They're clean. They've been clean since the day after it happened; she had spares. Back then, she needed to cleanse it, even if part of her felt like it was erasure. Washing the horror away too soon. But it lingered long enough where it mattered, and at that moment, she just needed, desperately, to live.

So their eyes meet, again, and she clears her throat. „So,“ she says, but goes nowhere with it. Silence swallows her mouth up whole, keeps her words stuck in her throat, at the back of her brain, before they even really form. And Anotsu, he looks at her with that attentive gaze. Waiting. Giving her the first word, it seems. It's that strange parlor courtesy of his; she's seen a glimpse of it in Kaga (right before he left his wife to her fate, whatever that ended up being). But right now, all she can do is pull down the corners of her mouth into a frown.

„I see you've met Dōa,“ he says, finally, and now he's genuinely smiling. „That was unexpected, I'll admit.“

„Oh, was it?“ Her eyebrow is twitching.

„Indeed. She didn't tell me where she was staying before.“ And his gaze goes past her, through the open shōji at the other side. „You have a fine garden.“

„Why, thank you,“ she says, not bothering to hide her sarcasm. Where is Dōa, she wonders. Is she gathering Anotsu's books from all the corners of the bedroom she threw them into to give them back to him? Not that she actually read the things; Rin could probably tell him more about their contents than Dōa could. Not that she isn't trying (and it's kinda cute in a way), but her attention tends to wander. Besides, they're busy.

But hey, now that he's here already, she might as well question him. „So, how're you doing right now?“, she asks, with her best effort at nonchalance and a too-sweet smile on her face.

„As ever,“ he answers, and there's that smirk again. He's caught on to her ploy immediately, of course he has. Then he gets serious, and waits a beat, then he says: „We're undercover.“

That takes her by surprise, and that's when she realizes she wasn't truly expecting him to divulge anything. She also realizes it's no small thing; if he didn't trust her be quiet, he would've fared better not mentioning it at all. It makes her feel – she doesn't quite know how it makes her feel. Strange, unknown, but neutral.

„My apologies if Dōa is being... difficult,“ he continues, businesslike. „She still has a lot to learn.“ Rin thinks she can detect something like a hint of caring, maybe even of pride in a pupil in him. And that's weird, that's unprecedented. Anotsu Kagehisa has comrades, but Rin has yet to hear of him having pupils.

Well, that would explain the books. Rin almost feels like giggling, there's something distinctly funny about the mental image of Anotsu, the jerk, taking Dōa, the brat, under his wing. Probably Isaku, too, and that makes it even funnier. Maybe she should giggle, but fourteen years of social conditioning get in the way of that. She's the hostess. Won't do to be rude. So she stows the image away to treasure it, to lord it over her mental Anotsu (saying something like: „Hah! Even you are not immune to cuteness!“) at another time.

Scarcely done with those thoughts, she licks her lips that are feeling a little dry, and then her eyes refocus and halt on Anotsu's. He's watching her, she notes, like a cat on the prowl. And then she thinks, the holy Amida only knows what faces she's been making while lost in her own thoughts. It causes her to blush, and her tongue is still stuck between her lips and teeth (she's lucky she didn't bite down on it – that would've made Anotsu laugh for sure!).

„Ah, don't worry“, she then says, still blushing. It gets lost in the something that's come up between them, the same strange ties that developped while she watched him lose his strength and speech and carried him around for who knows how many ri. Something that was uncomfortable at first, but is less so now that they're both healthy and not forced onto each other; and now that this new mark upon their souls had time to fester. It is a mark, because they know that neither of them came out of that trip unchanged. She knows that he knows it. It's in his eyes and his whole demeanor.

Finally, she pulls her tongue back and then her body just moves of its own accord, forward on hands and knees, towards Anotsu, who's watching her calmly. She sits down in front of him, close, and his fingers touch her hand, then grasp it, then entwine both their fingers together. That makes her blush grow hotter, and she only looks at him briefly before kissing him.

His lips are soft, almost soft enough to be feminine, but Rin isn't really surprised. She knows he takes care of himself, is conscious of what he represents and how and styles himself accordingly, because of vanity (because he is pretty damn arrogant) as much as the fact that he thinks everything through.

They're kissing, and they're not really moving a lot, yet Rin feels something gathering at the base of her abdomen, and she's pretty down with that. Asano Rin is not a girl unfamiliar with these things. She's a girl who's spent her critical years in and out of teahouses, ears always open for whenever the name of Ittō-ryū might be mentioned, but soon also finding herself very attentive to women's talk when they thought no one was listening. So, she's thinking, that something is not really the weird thing. It's kind of par for the course when you're kissing a guy on the lips. So the weird thing is really the kissing. She should stop that.

It takes her a bit, more hesitation than she will later admit to herself, ever, but she pulls away eventually. She opens her eyes again, to see that Anotsu even looks a little perplexed – surprised at himself, if you will. Rin wonders if he's not actually used to stuff like that happening – well, he'd hardly be used to exactly the same thing happening, the circumstances are really kinda out-of-the-ordinary, but you know – but he grabs her attention when his eyes move away from her and his mouth opens just a little.

He's looking at the door, like there's something worth looking at there. Rin turns around and looks too.

Dōa is standing in the doorway with a tray in her hands, a steaming teapot and three cups on it. Her expression is utterly unreadable.

She's in for a thorough questioning later, that much is certain.

A Long Month, Dōa/Rin

lanoyee — Mon, 16 Aug 2010 11:49:31 GMT

Title: A Long Month
Fandom: Blade of the Immortal
Pairing: Dōa/Rin
Rating: PG-13, girls kissing.
Note: Repost from older post, because that one contained too much personal babble to be linked anywhere.

It started as a fight about food. Dōa freely helped herself off Rin’s table, which soon pushed Rin beyond just strainedly ignoring it. Snappy words were exchanged until Rin said the wrong thing.

“I really don’t know how Isaku puts up with you”, she said.

Dōa just stared for a moment. Then a primal hiss erupted from her mouth and before Rin knew what was happening, Dōa had her on the ground with one small hand grasping onto strands of her hair and the other wildly moving, scratching with those sharp nails, and Rin yelped in pain while trying to fight Dōa off.

It had been a long day. A long week. A long month.

In the end, Rin pressed Dōa to her chest to restrain her, and Dōa’s struggles faded into nothing as she just lay there and started clinging to Rin, who could feel the small body quivering in her arms. She couldn’t really do anything but stare at the ceiling herself, as if in a sort of paralysis.

Time had come to a halt here.

– and so Rin really couldn’t have said when they began kissing; Dōa’s lips on hers, with little expertise and a lot of feeling not quite coming through to the surface. Not that Rin could tell, about the expertise thing, but she made a vague guess that this probably wasn’t it – in the moment that she could think, because she wasn’t doing a lot of that. Instead, she grabbed Dōa’s kimono, just the flaps of her sleeves, and kissed back; clumsy, unsure, and not quite wondering where they were going with this.

They moved a little against each other, and Dōa whimpered into Rin’s mouth. Her tongue followed, pushing urgently. Rin’s legs shivered and she felt lighter.

Somewhere far away, around her foot, the tatami was wet because they had knocked over a table – Rin’s, of course – and spilled the soup, but that didn’t really matter, and it didn’t matter so much when Dōa started biting Rin’s lip, not gently, but fiercely, because it oddly fueled the feeling that was building up somewhere in Rin’s body and the recesses of her mind.

They started to entwine their legs, slinging arms so as to hold the other just a bit tighter, somehow managing to rub against each other despite limbs being in all the wrong places, elbows poking against ribs and knees against thighs.

She was still floating when Dōa pulled her hair so hard that she screamed and aimlessly waved her hand somewhere in the direction of the offender, but then Dōa stopped and looked at her, and Rin looked back, and they stayed like that for a good while.

“Stupid”, said Dōa and swallowed. “Isaku’s not ‘putting up’. It’s just the way it is.”

Rin looked away. She let out a shallow breath and quietly said: “I’m sorry.”

Because it had been a long month.

Hard Things [Blade of the Immortal, Asano Rin, PG]; for femgenficathon

lanoyee — Mon, 16 Aug 2010 03:37:40 GMT

Title: Hard Things
Fandom: Blade of the Immortal
Rating: PG
Warnings: Uh. References to somewhat brutal canon happenings?
Prompt: 143) I hadn't been aware that there were doors closed to me until I started knocking on them. -- Gertrude B. Elion, American biochemist, pharmacologist and winner of the 1988 Nobel Prize in Medicine (with George Hitchings and Sir James Black).
Summary: After all is said and done, Asano Rin is met with a proposition.
Author's Notes: MANY, MANY THANKS to the wonderful senri, who's been patient in letting me bounce ideas off her and even letting me borrow some of her own; and to my beta tanrien, who has been there in the nick of time. I didn't really use the prompt, but it fits in a general way. Entirely speculative post-eventual-canon fic.

There comes a time in your life when you're caught between a rock and a hard place, and Rin never felt that quite as acutely as a month after she'd returned to Edo, alone. She was alone because she'd fought her battles, and the government had caught up with Manji, but let him go under the condition that he never show his face in Edo again.

"They probably see no merit in detaining him,“ she told Hyakurin. "He can't die, and they remember what happened last time someone put him in a prison.“

Hyakurin smirked at her with knowledge, and she smiled back, with a sort of flippant ease of which she wasn't quite sure when she'd acquired it. There was a long road behind her, and she knew she'd never be able to trace back the steps. You could only walk forward if you wanted to get anywhere at all.

So she settled back into her birth house, at the old Mutenichi-ryū dōjō, and establed sort of a living. It was proper, living here, where the story had taken its beginning. It all came full circle. She thought she might move one day, maybe see the world, but that day was not now and not soon.

It was more peaceful than she'd expected it to be (she was not used to „peaceful“ anymore, almost estranged from the concept) until one day, a man came up the dirt road from the canal and yelled for the house's owner as politely as one could yell. Rin came running quickly, and she didn't invite him inside for tea, leaning in the front door frame like a watchdog instead.

"Very sorry to disturb you, lady,“ said the man, watchful eyes drinking in her posture and what little of her realm he could see. Then he bowed, so deep his head was almost at the same height as his waist. "This may surprise you, but I come to you with a message from the O-bangashira.“

Rin heard him out, and when he was done, she watched him walk back down the dirt road until he'd gotten out of sight.

---

She kept contact with Manji. They wrote letters to each other, now. It wasn't the same, but her heart had been aching for three years, so it could go on for a while longer. But she found out new things, too: how his handwriting was surprisingly neat, and how he worded things differently in writing – his samurai training really shone through – but still managed to make it uniquely Manji.

---

Dear Manji,

it's not been long since I last wrote you. I'd love to ask how you and the kids are doing, but, Manji, this may well be my last letter, and that is why I am writing so soon, even though not much has happened in the meantime except for that which I am writing to you about.

Two days ago, an emissionary from the government came to my house, and he presented me with a proposal and a choice that has exactly two outcomes: either I become an agent for the government, or I'll be executed on charges of highway murder on the one hand, and the invasion and damage of Edo castle and subsequent threat to the shōgun's safety on the other.

Now, don't worry! I've been thinking about this since, and the conclusion is that I'm going to take the job. What else am I to do? I mean, just giving up and dying after all I've survived up to now would be pretty stupid, wouldn't it? Yes, I knew you'd agree.

I don't know what awaits me. Not what they want me to do, what sort of life I'll lead, or whether I'll ever see anyone again. Whether I'll be able to still write you. Whether I'll have a gravestone when I die. I suppose things could be worse.

So hang in there, all right? Make your life the best it could be. And don't yell at the orphans too much. They're lucky to have you.

Kansei 5th year, first month, twelfth day

Asano Rin

---

A week later, the day before she'd been ordered to go to Edo castle, found her in a teahouse in one of the seedier districts in town on a bench across from Hyakurin and Giichi. She'd sent them a note asking to meet up. Hyakurin poured her a cup of sake.

"Suppose I won't have time to teach you to hold your liquor now, but I can at least lay the foundation.“

Giichi said nothing.

The sake burned on her tongue and throat, and it made her sputter, but she thought she might get used to it one day.

They were sparse with words and didn't mention her future, because there wasn't really anything to be said about it. Even if she once caught Hyakurin scowling like she only did when she was truly furious with something.

When it was time to say their goodbyes, she bowed to both of them. "I'm sorry to have troubled you,“ she said, "I wish you all the best.“ Then she stood up on her tiptoes, holding onto Hyakurin's arms, and whispered in her ear. "And good luck with the baby.“

Hyakurin gave her a sidelong glance that Rin wasn't sure what to make of and let her go.

---

The next morning she left her house for what she thought might be the last time. She'd gotten up early, cleaned all the rooms, stowed away the futons in the closet, gathered her few very necessary possessions and a few sentimental extras and closed all the doors. She stepped through the front gate with a sort of apprehension; it felt slow like molasses, like time eked out a bit of room for her to settle in, and yet it was over in an instant.

Rin turned around and looked over the wall to the familiar roof and closed up the front door, too. Then she turned around swiftly and walked away.

---

Edo castle was a deep dungeon and a hungry spirit, and this time, she felt, it swallowed her up whole.

---

A servant greeted her at Ōte gate and brought her to one of the comparatively smaller buildings in the administrative area. The room he led her into was a small guest room not unlike the ones she'd been to before. She was left there to wait without tea, and she waited for a while, fighting the urge to squirm out of her polite seiza position. Her eyes moved, but met with nothing but walls and sliding screens the like of which she'd seen every day in the house she left behind – and she couldn't help but think that this was exactly the intention.

Finally, she heard voices and dull steps outside and immediately straightened, and when the sliding door from the hall opened, she threw a quick glance to the man who entered – moderately tall, stocky, with a peculiar face and a topknot – then threw herself down to prostrate herself before him.

"Asano Rin of the Mutenichi-ryū school, is it? Or should I say, the former Mutenichi-ryū.“ There was a kind of mirth in his voice that might have been intended to sound endearing, but wasn't at all. "Please, raise your head.“

Rin did as told and looked the man in the face. His cheekbones and jaw were strongly defined, his lips dark and curved like a woman's, looking slightly out of place. His kimono was simple, but made of fabric that was probably more expensive than it seemed. Keeping her eyes on his face to see if he showed disapproval, she slowly eased herself back into a sitting position.

When he'd stared her down sufficiently, he sat down across from her, at the usual polite distance.

"Good day,“ he continued. "I am Hanabusa Ugen, bangashira. You may have heard of my predecessor, Habaki Kagimura.“

There was a pause in which his eyes probed her. "Now, I have heard quite a lot of you, Asano Rin, and I believed it would be a shame to see your evident talents go to waste.“ He waved a hand to the side of his face, and she heard him suck in some air. "I hope you realize that if it weren't for my intervention, you wouldn't have had this choice at all.“

Rin swallowed and nodded. Yes, she did realize. The crimes she'd been blamed with were unquestionably deserving of death penalty, and even considering the one was not hers to begin with, the other was the worse. And so, the end result was the same.

Hanabusa did not mince words long in explaining her new life to her. "In short, you will do spy work for us,“ was how he finished, and then he chided, "and do work on your subtlety.“

---

Dear Manji,

it's been a while, but now I can write to you again. I was sure being silly in my latest letter! In the end, things aren't half as bad as I expected them to be. I can even live in the city, just not in my old house anymore. I am supposed to be undercover. But I found someone to take care of it! I met Renzō again, and offered for him to stay there. Surprisingly, he agreeed. It was a bit of a shock, because of all the history, which I told him about – well, in vague terms – and because I'm not sure what one child is going to do alone in a house that big. At least I kept it in good shape.

I am doing okay. It's not the life I expected or wanted, but in the end you earn what you sow. And I suppose I sowed a mighty lot. It may get a little lonely, but at least I have work to do, and in a way, you could even call it honest work. You could even call it a privilege. With a bit of luck and a bit of good managing, I may even be able to use this. For things. Good things, hopefully. Keep your fingers crossed for me, yes? I'm not trying to style myself some sort of revolutionary, but if I get a chance to actually change things, even in small ways, I'm not going to deny it, either.

I am even getting a salary! It's not much, so it's not like I could send you any funds or some such – much as I'd love to – and I can count myself lucky if I even manage to pay Master Sōri back in this lifetime. But, see, this is something I can do – I could try and talk to people about the funding of orphanages! How does that sound? No, I won't rush into things. Well, I'll try not to. I know I owe you that much.

Oh, and did you know Hyakurin is having a baby? It's not long now. I'm really excited, for some reason. It feels a little like getting a little brother or sister. But only a little. If it's a girl, I bet she's going to be so pretty! But I'd kind of like a little boy to boss around.

Well, that was it for now. How are you and the kids doing? Well, I hope. Please write back soon.

Kansei 5th year, third month, fifth day

Asano Rin