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Original Ficbits + FMA ficlet
I had a little time this afternoon (I'm going exploring with a friend, but she wanted a nap first), so I went back through my older files to see what was there. These are the ones I'm probably going to continue at some point, though I did *finish* the FMA ficlet, which is blink-and-miss-it Royai - spoilers through the early 40s, I think. ^^;;; Anyways...
Plot Bunnies ~ original
“You know, this is all your fault!” Janice said, turning to glare at the fluffy entity before her. The thing got up and walked over to her, wiggling its whiskers and nose in amusement.
“Oh really?” It said, with an expansive gesture. “I don’t recall telling you to let anyone know about us. Actually, I rather remember saying something to the effect, people will think you’re crazy if you tell them about us.”
“Well, I wouldn’t have anything to tell them about if you would go away like I’d asked!” She exclaimed, struggling against the white fabric that held her tightly. “I mean, really, I’m a journalist, not a fiction writer! Do you have any idea how useless and irritating it is for me to be followed by plot bunnies? I don’t want you, I don’t need you!”
“Ahhh…” The pink rabbit said, stretching and sitting down next to Janice on the bed. “That’s where you’re wrong. You just *think* you’re a journalist. The sooner you acknowledge your true calling, the better it’ll be for you. C’mon Janice, I promise we’ll be good for you.”
“Good for me? Good for me?!” The woman asked somewhat hysterically. “You’ve gotten me locked up in a mental asylum and you’re telling me that you’re good for me? You know, rabbit, if anyone could see you I don’t doubt that it’d be you in the straight jacket and not me.”
The rabbit shook its head at her and laughed slightly.
“You keep forgetting!” He said.
“Forgetting what?” She snapped irritably.
“We only come to those who need us, those who can play with us.” The rabbit replied. “These people are flat, nothing to ‘em. The only people who see us are people who are meant to see us, people who can accept and use us – although I will admit, we did over run you a bit.”
“No, really?” Janice replied sarcastically, glaring at the pink fuzz ball before her. “You know, I still have bite marks all over my ankles!”
The fuzz ball she’d been speaking with merely laughed at her, while the others around them had the grace to look slightly ashamed. The smaller white bunnies hopped closer and began rubbing apologetically against her. Janice sighed. Without the use of her hands, she wouldn’t be able to throw the mongrels across the room.
As she lay back on the bed, lapines gathering around her, Janice found herself wondering for the first time if, perhaps, just *perhaps*, she might have over-reacted a bit.
When the pink one jumped on her, curling its perverted little self up on her chest, she knew for certain that she hadn’t.
Techie Meta Play-ish Thing ~ original, two bits
“Aww, crap, don’t tell me we’re in a meta?”
“I know, I know, I swore I’d never do it. Sorry!”
“You just don’t get it, do you? Do you know who she is?”
“Who, her? Nah. She never talks to me though.”
A pretty girl with a laptop sitting off to the side, occasionally interacting with others.
“You know, I’m blaming you when we get dragged into the light!”
“All right, sorry!”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
“Look, I’m the author, right? That means I can look however I want. Can you blame me for wanting to be beautiful?”
“Actually, I can. Doesn’t seem right to me. The beauties are the actors, not the techies.”
“That’s not entirely true. There are some beautiful, shy people out there. They’ll never be actors – we both know you can’t be shy and be an actor. Secretive, yes. Mysterious, yes. Desirous of your privacy, of course. But at the heart of the art –“
“Now there’s a song cue if ever I heard one.”
“Are you trying to make me send you to hell?”
“I dunno. Do I get to do the lighting for it?”
“If you don’t want to suddenly have two heads, duck’s feet, and the language ability of a tse tse fly, I suggest you stop being so bloody annoying.”
“Your fault.”
“How do you figure?”
“Well, you’re the author, aren’t you?”
“Point taken. Shut up.”
Silence
“Thank you. Now, as I was saying – hey, what *was* I saying?”
“Beats me. I wasn’t listening.”
Strawberries and Champagne ~ original, finished?
It started off innocently enough. Just an idea, a way to try and stop myself from winding up spending the rest of my life regretting my marriage to Mr. Wrong. You see, I’ve always thought that when someone has a bad poker face, they should be able to admit it and stop playing the game.
Love’s like that for me.
I’m bad at it.
Brian was the closest I’d ever come to finding Mr. Right. He was sweet, kind, and loving. In the end, though, he wasn’t the one for me, and we both knew it. It was just as I figured out that I couldn’t be with Brian that the idea came to me. I didn’t doubt that Brian and I would always be friends, always. So as we broke up with one another, sharing one last night in each other’s arms, I whispered to him a phrase that revealed the greatest romantic dream I’ve ever had.
Strawberries and champagne at sunrise.
It’s not a fantastic fantasy, hell it’s barely even original… but it means a great deal to me. When I let Brian have that phrase, I gave him something else with it. Something he doesn’t even know he has. You see, I know I’m going to screw up more than my fair share of relationships, and fall for hundreds of Mr. Wrongs. I just don’t want… I don’t want to make a mistake and let Mr. Right slip through my fingers. Brian’s my safety net. He’s like a protective older brother, he won’t let any of the assholes get close to me… But when the inevitable fight happens with Mr. Right, Brian will be the one to stop him from leaving. He’ll be the one to track Mr. Right down, and when he finds him, Brian will look him in the eyes and repeat my phrase, exactly as I said it to him. He’ll explain… and then the guy will arrange it. When I finally get my wish, I’ll know that Brian truly approves of the guy I’m with – I’ll know I’ve found Mr. Right. Until then, I’ll keep dating all the Mr. Wrong’s, waiting as Brian exercises the power he doesn’t even know he has… I wait for my sunrise of strawberries.
Wait ~ FMA, blink and miss it RoyAi, spoiler into the 40s.
“Colonel.” She said, saluting as she stepped onto the front porch of the Rockbell family house. Her superior brushed her formality aside, gesturing to the recently vacated chair across from him. She hesitated a moment longer in the door before seating herself. He tilted his head back, staring at the star-filled sky.
“Lieutenant.” He replied.
She walked gingerly around to the other side of the table. Close at hand, she could hear the steady clank of Alphonse’s father as he walked with Hohenheim. When she seated herself, the chair had yet to give in to the cold night air, retaining its warmth. She seated herself, and waited.
“Fullmetal still hasn’t forgiven his father.” He said after a moment, still avoiding her gaze. “No surprise there, I suppose. If his height were equal to the amount of time he can hold a grudge, he’d have to worry about tall jokes instead of short ones.”
Above her, the moon hung low in the sky, beautiful and full. She knew, but she didn’t look. The crickets chirped quietly in the grass. She heard, but paid them no mind. Instead she watched the man across from her. She watched him, and waited.
“She knows about me.” He continued. He leaned forward, lacing his fingers together under his chin and continuing to watch the universe flying by overhead. “Both of them do. They’ve done all right, in spite of what they lost.”
She could hear a funny echo in his voice, and knew the unspoken sentiment. What they’d lost – and what he’d taken. Somewhere inside the house, a door slammed shut. She noted it, but also registered it’s distance – a door to a room at the back of the house, not one at the front. Under the table, she switched the way she’d been crossing her ankles, not once tearing her gaze from the man before her. She recrossed her ankles, and waited.
For several long moments, they merely sat upon the porch, two small parts of a much greater whole. A mockingbird’s song drifted to them on the night wind. Aside from that, and the steady motion of clouds over head, the entire world stood still.
Still, she waited.
Finally, he tore his gaze from the heavens above, eyes mirthlessly meeting hers. She resisted the urge to flinch at the cracks showing on his unsmirking face. The hold he’d managed to keep over his emotions for the past few weeks was slipping. She wondered if he’d simply convinced himself that it was only a temporary situation. She wondered, and waited.
“They still don’t know.” He said at length, managing a steady voice, though the effort put into it shone clearly. “They’d already left Central when it happened, and haven’t seen anyone who’d think to tell them since. They don’t know about him, and I-“
His voice broke, her own heart breaking in sympathy as she waited.
“I can’t tell them. I can’t tell them he’s-“ He stopped as she moved at last, reaching out to take his hands in hers.
“I know.” She said softly. He nodded, and she let it rest at that. After all, telling them wouldn’t change anything.
It, like her, could wait.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Cheers for massive story dumpage. ^_^
Plot Bunnies ~ original
“You know, this is all your fault!” Janice said, turning to glare at the fluffy entity before her. The thing got up and walked over to her, wiggling its whiskers and nose in amusement.
“Oh really?” It said, with an expansive gesture. “I don’t recall telling you to let anyone know about us. Actually, I rather remember saying something to the effect, people will think you’re crazy if you tell them about us.”
“Well, I wouldn’t have anything to tell them about if you would go away like I’d asked!” She exclaimed, struggling against the white fabric that held her tightly. “I mean, really, I’m a journalist, not a fiction writer! Do you have any idea how useless and irritating it is for me to be followed by plot bunnies? I don’t want you, I don’t need you!”
“Ahhh…” The pink rabbit said, stretching and sitting down next to Janice on the bed. “That’s where you’re wrong. You just *think* you’re a journalist. The sooner you acknowledge your true calling, the better it’ll be for you. C’mon Janice, I promise we’ll be good for you.”
“Good for me? Good for me?!” The woman asked somewhat hysterically. “You’ve gotten me locked up in a mental asylum and you’re telling me that you’re good for me? You know, rabbit, if anyone could see you I don’t doubt that it’d be you in the straight jacket and not me.”
The rabbit shook its head at her and laughed slightly.
“You keep forgetting!” He said.
“Forgetting what?” She snapped irritably.
“We only come to those who need us, those who can play with us.” The rabbit replied. “These people are flat, nothing to ‘em. The only people who see us are people who are meant to see us, people who can accept and use us – although I will admit, we did over run you a bit.”
“No, really?” Janice replied sarcastically, glaring at the pink fuzz ball before her. “You know, I still have bite marks all over my ankles!”
The fuzz ball she’d been speaking with merely laughed at her, while the others around them had the grace to look slightly ashamed. The smaller white bunnies hopped closer and began rubbing apologetically against her. Janice sighed. Without the use of her hands, she wouldn’t be able to throw the mongrels across the room.
As she lay back on the bed, lapines gathering around her, Janice found herself wondering for the first time if, perhaps, just *perhaps*, she might have over-reacted a bit.
When the pink one jumped on her, curling its perverted little self up on her chest, she knew for certain that she hadn’t.
Techie Meta Play-ish Thing ~ original, two bits
“Aww, crap, don’t tell me we’re in a meta?”
“I know, I know, I swore I’d never do it. Sorry!”
“You just don’t get it, do you? Do you know who she is?”
“Who, her? Nah. She never talks to me though.”
A pretty girl with a laptop sitting off to the side, occasionally interacting with others.
“You know, I’m blaming you when we get dragged into the light!”
“All right, sorry!”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
“Look, I’m the author, right? That means I can look however I want. Can you blame me for wanting to be beautiful?”
“Actually, I can. Doesn’t seem right to me. The beauties are the actors, not the techies.”
“That’s not entirely true. There are some beautiful, shy people out there. They’ll never be actors – we both know you can’t be shy and be an actor. Secretive, yes. Mysterious, yes. Desirous of your privacy, of course. But at the heart of the art –“
“Now there’s a song cue if ever I heard one.”
“Are you trying to make me send you to hell?”
“I dunno. Do I get to do the lighting for it?”
“If you don’t want to suddenly have two heads, duck’s feet, and the language ability of a tse tse fly, I suggest you stop being so bloody annoying.”
“Your fault.”
“How do you figure?”
“Well, you’re the author, aren’t you?”
“Point taken. Shut up.”
Silence
“Thank you. Now, as I was saying – hey, what *was* I saying?”
“Beats me. I wasn’t listening.”
Strawberries and Champagne ~ original, finished?
It started off innocently enough. Just an idea, a way to try and stop myself from winding up spending the rest of my life regretting my marriage to Mr. Wrong. You see, I’ve always thought that when someone has a bad poker face, they should be able to admit it and stop playing the game.
Love’s like that for me.
I’m bad at it.
Brian was the closest I’d ever come to finding Mr. Right. He was sweet, kind, and loving. In the end, though, he wasn’t the one for me, and we both knew it. It was just as I figured out that I couldn’t be with Brian that the idea came to me. I didn’t doubt that Brian and I would always be friends, always. So as we broke up with one another, sharing one last night in each other’s arms, I whispered to him a phrase that revealed the greatest romantic dream I’ve ever had.
Strawberries and champagne at sunrise.
It’s not a fantastic fantasy, hell it’s barely even original… but it means a great deal to me. When I let Brian have that phrase, I gave him something else with it. Something he doesn’t even know he has. You see, I know I’m going to screw up more than my fair share of relationships, and fall for hundreds of Mr. Wrongs. I just don’t want… I don’t want to make a mistake and let Mr. Right slip through my fingers. Brian’s my safety net. He’s like a protective older brother, he won’t let any of the assholes get close to me… But when the inevitable fight happens with Mr. Right, Brian will be the one to stop him from leaving. He’ll be the one to track Mr. Right down, and when he finds him, Brian will look him in the eyes and repeat my phrase, exactly as I said it to him. He’ll explain… and then the guy will arrange it. When I finally get my wish, I’ll know that Brian truly approves of the guy I’m with – I’ll know I’ve found Mr. Right. Until then, I’ll keep dating all the Mr. Wrong’s, waiting as Brian exercises the power he doesn’t even know he has… I wait for my sunrise of strawberries.
Wait ~ FMA, blink and miss it RoyAi, spoiler into the 40s.
“Colonel.” She said, saluting as she stepped onto the front porch of the Rockbell family house. Her superior brushed her formality aside, gesturing to the recently vacated chair across from him. She hesitated a moment longer in the door before seating herself. He tilted his head back, staring at the star-filled sky.
“Lieutenant.” He replied.
She walked gingerly around to the other side of the table. Close at hand, she could hear the steady clank of Alphonse’s father as he walked with Hohenheim. When she seated herself, the chair had yet to give in to the cold night air, retaining its warmth. She seated herself, and waited.
“Fullmetal still hasn’t forgiven his father.” He said after a moment, still avoiding her gaze. “No surprise there, I suppose. If his height were equal to the amount of time he can hold a grudge, he’d have to worry about tall jokes instead of short ones.”
Above her, the moon hung low in the sky, beautiful and full. She knew, but she didn’t look. The crickets chirped quietly in the grass. She heard, but paid them no mind. Instead she watched the man across from her. She watched him, and waited.
“She knows about me.” He continued. He leaned forward, lacing his fingers together under his chin and continuing to watch the universe flying by overhead. “Both of them do. They’ve done all right, in spite of what they lost.”
She could hear a funny echo in his voice, and knew the unspoken sentiment. What they’d lost – and what he’d taken. Somewhere inside the house, a door slammed shut. She noted it, but also registered it’s distance – a door to a room at the back of the house, not one at the front. Under the table, she switched the way she’d been crossing her ankles, not once tearing her gaze from the man before her. She recrossed her ankles, and waited.
For several long moments, they merely sat upon the porch, two small parts of a much greater whole. A mockingbird’s song drifted to them on the night wind. Aside from that, and the steady motion of clouds over head, the entire world stood still.
Still, she waited.
Finally, he tore his gaze from the heavens above, eyes mirthlessly meeting hers. She resisted the urge to flinch at the cracks showing on his unsmirking face. The hold he’d managed to keep over his emotions for the past few weeks was slipping. She wondered if he’d simply convinced himself that it was only a temporary situation. She wondered, and waited.
“They still don’t know.” He said at length, managing a steady voice, though the effort put into it shone clearly. “They’d already left Central when it happened, and haven’t seen anyone who’d think to tell them since. They don’t know about him, and I-“
His voice broke, her own heart breaking in sympathy as she waited.
“I can’t tell them. I can’t tell them he’s-“ He stopped as she moved at last, reaching out to take his hands in hers.
“I know.” She said softly. He nodded, and she let it rest at that. After all, telling them wouldn’t change anything.
It, like her, could wait.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Cheers for massive story dumpage. ^_^
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