Our Word

[Drabble] I struggle with a proper title

Fri, 22 May 2009 17:34:17 GMT

dude. this is epic. this is unprecedented. this is a promised writing 22 days after initial promising. take a picture, it's a once in a lifetime event probably.

This is for one, tj_dragonblade in reference to the drabble challenge shown below. Alright, so it doesn't quite use the prompt given -- or at all -- this fooled around on the brain synapses until i agreed to write it down.

To Perceive
By: Ken
Word Count: 838
No Beta Warning
Disclaim: Naruto is property of one, Kishimoto, i borrow only as the demons dictate.

The world ended on a Thursday afternoon. It was overcast, but the sun refused to remain hidden and peeked from its exile in blatant defiance. Nara Shikamaru strolled beside his best friend, Akimichi Chouji, a silent supporter of the sunrays that escaped pursuit of the clouds before they were again caught and locked away. If the sun did manage the prison break he hoped for, then Shikamaru would invite Chouji out to the field for cloud gazing and general laziness because Konoha was quiet and there was no telling how long the peace would last.

Chouji was quiet voice-wise. The only sound emerging from him was the crackling of the potato chip bag and the grind of his teeth as he ate. Eating wasn't a bad idea, Shikamaru acknowledged. A picnic basket out in the field, with the lounging, and atmosphere observation would ensure that he didn't stray back home for a while, which was definitely conducive to preserving his state of mind. Chouji would be game. Chouji was always game for whatever Shikamaru wanted to do especially if food were involved.

"Hey," Shikamaru's lazy gait paused, his dark eyes still on the sky. "You hungry?"

"I could eat," Chouji answered immediately, the chip halfway to his mouth.

True. Chouji could always eat. As well he should. Something the third member of their team hadn't been able to grasp. Akimichi Clan ninjutsu was a power oriented, calorie consuming practice, combined with the flexibility of the body and individual limbs at chakra driven will. If Chouji didn't have the extra calories on his person when the need arose, he would die in the performance of his duties. Plain and simple. Besides, Shikamaru didn't mind the extra.

The road they were on lead by Ichiraku, but Shikamaru knew Chouji preferred barbecue so he put one foot before the next, wishing he had the power to transport himself places by thought alone. If he’d had them when they passed the ramen shop his stomach wouldn't have gurgled appreciatively at the appetizing aromas drifting on the muggy air. If he’d had that power then the world would have continued on unscathed, resolute to turn long after his demise. But it was not to be.

Two events splintered perception.

The first was that his stomach's distress call triggered on Chouji's radar. And Akimichi Chouji, Nara Shikamaru's best friend, glanced at him from the corner of his eye before he expelled a mighty sigh. He had the look of a man about to do something that would change the dynamics between gravity and flight. But he set his full lips into a firmly compressed line and the bag of potato chips within large sarashi wrapped hands was offered.

Chouji did not look at him, did not, indeed, break stride, did not ask why Shikamaru did not stop and eat at this restaurant -- as it was closer -- because they both knew Chouji wanted barbecue and Shikamaru would very likely be paying.

The second sat at Ichiraku's itself in a loud orange jumpsuit, blonde head bent over a bowl of ramen. Beside him, handing over a few bills to the vendor, sat Hyuuga Neji.

The world fell asunder.

Shikamaru watched.

Because never in all his thinkings -- and Shikamaru thought a lot -- did he ever consider the remote possibility that Neji, who had the ability to see 360 degrees far into any direction, would choose to never turn his sight from Uzumaki Naruto.

But there were other thinkings he'd put away, thinkings that he needed to sort through his brain and find and settle one way or the other because the world as he knew it had ended and the time for Last Rites was at hand.

Everyone had their own taste when it came to what they found attractive. Nara Shikamaru liked them big-boned, well padded, wide-hipped, curvaceous, rosy-cheeked, and easy going. In a ninja village, the first two, wasn't likely, as the training tended to keep one in shape as it were meant to. And while there were ordinary villagers, it was rare that a ninja would become involved, or that said villagers weren't trim from their own work. Plumpness was for the rich.

As such, the Akimichi Clan did it for him. Truly set his libido in to overdrive. Often enough his musings turned to fantasies on just what Shikamaru would do with a beautiful, bountiful member of that clan if it were ever proposed. But it had never been. And risking rejection seemed troublesome enough in mere thought; the deed could wait.

But Chouji was offering.

The bag contained three potato chips -- the last. Chouji claimed the last was always sweetest. The clouds grew lax in their guardianship of the sun and it broke free. Nara Shikamaru accepted what Akimichi Chouji gave. The sky cracked like a whip in the air to order the sun into submission but it continued to watch as Shikamaru placed a salty chip on his tongue while a raindrop splattered on his nose.

dribble drabble

Fri, 01 May 2009 11:11:29 GMT

as stolen from tj_dragonblade

The first TEN people to comment in this post get to request a drabble of any pairing/character (from one of my usual fandoms) of their choosing from me. In return, they have to post this in their journal, regardless of their ability level. If you absolutely can't write, I don't see why you wouldn't be able to offer drawings or icons or something instead.

funny thing here is that i don't even know ten people who would comment here. so we're pretty safe but are still willing, especially since we didn't post for the month of april. *shrugs*

stipulations: fandoms we can write for - hikago, gw, naruto, or rk, or if one should follow our original work and would like a drabble about any characters found therein, that can be done too.

pairings:
hikago: waya-isumi, touya-yashiro, hikaru-sai, hikaru-yashiro,
gw: NOT 1x2, almost anything else is fair game
naruto: gaaranaru, nejinaru, shikachou, temarishika (what!), gaikakashi y'know almost anything NOT kakairuka, or narusasuke,
rk: safe. pretty much all safe to write about.

Cosmic [Ch4/6]

Mon, 30 Mar 2009 23:27:22 GMT

. yep. nothing enlightening or hella cool to impart right now. this is a fun chapter. i like fun chapters.

Previously in Cosmic: Prologue, Ch 1 Ch 2 Ch 3

Cosmic © 2009 property of Kenen and E. Entity. Do not repost. Do not repost and claim as your own. Do read. Do enjoy. Do comment.

Chapter 4

It was 8 am Sunday morning with Leo was abruptly woken up by the doorbell ringing. More than the irritating ‘bing bong’ of the bell blaring over the speakers, Leonard was shocked to find a blue arm around his waist and a blonde head of surprisingly soft hair nestled against his belly. When that had happened was anyone’s guess. Alinon didn’t seem inclined to move and Leo was a moment disentangling himself from the sleeping alien’s clutches.

He stumbled down the stairs confused and sleepy. Squinting through crooked glasses, he opened the door to find Agatha Moreland frowning at him as though he were in the wrong for not being awake before noon on a weekend. Agatha’s hair was not yellow enough to be blonde but not dark enough to be brown either, she’d opted to comb it into a side ponytail that Leonard would have sworn fell out of fashion with the rest of the world in the 1980’s, but still suited her. She had glasses, Leonard knew, but never wore them in favor of different color contacts that she changed every week. This week it was a purple that completely matched the heels of her pink with swirling lavender hearts off-the-shoulder sweatshirt, white tank beneath, and jean skirt with white mid-calf length tights and folded down ruffled pink socks. Thankfully, Agatha wasn’t the type to wear makeup beyond her eyes.

“Leonard,” Agatha huffed, “I’ve been calling you since Friday afternoon, why haven’t you picked up the phone?”

“Well hell, Agatha, why’d it take you so long to come over and check on me? I could be dead.”

“Stop being so dramatic. Waitaminute. Are you okay?” She squinted as she peered at him, trying to gauge if anything was different.

Leonard couldn’t recall the last time he’d looked in a mirror and so had no idea what he looked like. Even so, he decided to be honest. “I slipped in the shower.”

“No shit,” Agatha breathed, she looked pained. “Maybe I should have come by sooner. God, you look like crap.”

“Thanks,” Leonard drawled in a tone that couldn’t have been more sarcastic if he’d practiced.

“Move aside, loser, have you at least put ice on that, jeez.” Agatha pushed her way into the kitchen. She knew the way, having been to his home numerous times. Agatha was undoubtedly his best friend. She was odd and intelligent and appreciated his own brand of brilliance.

Actually, now that Leonard had had time to think about it, he hadn’t put anything on what had to be a bad goose egg and undoubted bruising. Honestly, besides residual dizziness and occasional twinges the day before, he hadn’t felt the effects a fall of that nature should have wrought. Not since Alinon said he was monitoring his condition, whatever that meant. And definitely not since Inhaling Vai’s Breath. Even as he wondered if he would ever get another hit of that Air his heart was starting to race in panic mode; apathy destroyed.

Agatha was in his kitchen.

And an alien was upstairs in his bedroom.

He had to diffuse the situation, was his primary concern. But fate was against him as he heard Agatha squeal in excitement.

“Jeez, Leonard, you’ve been holding out on me.” He tried to think of what could possibly be in his kitchen to warrant such a reaction out of a more or less stable girl. And then he remembered the transmitter sitting on the table.

Taking a deep breath he closed the front door and meandered into the kitchen, bored face in full effect.

“You are so brilliant,” Agatha gushed upon sight. She was crouched over the table so she could appraise the transmitter hooked up the radio better. “What is it?”

“It's an amplifier,” Leonard truth-lied smoothly. “The goal is to have it pick up frequencies from outer space.”

“Like satellite TV?” Agatha wondered.

And she’d provided his alibi rather neatly. “Somewhat.”

“That is awesome.” Agatha murmured preoccupied with the machinery. She looked up again. “Who is that?”

“Who is who?” Leonard responded even as he swirled around to find Alinon Galica in a pair of his boxer shorts with sleep mused hair that actually looked better than when it was combed. “Oh. Um. This is my cousin.” He was prepared to come up with some completely bullshit proof excuse for Alinon’s less than human appearance but the lack of reaction cued him in that something was not quite right. Agatha shouldn’t have been so calm, unmoved by the blue creature standing in the kitchen smiling pleasantly at her.

Leonard met Alinon’s eyes.

Alinon winked.

“Nice to meet you,” the alien greeted Agatha.

“Oh, Leonard, you didn’t warn me that you had cousins who are gorgeous,” Agatha muttered in Leonard’s ear after she’d come around the table to her friend’s side.

“What!” Leonard squeaked.

“I’m Agatha,” the girl purred, held her hand out for a shake.

“Alin—umph!” the alien grunted and then glared at his host for stomping him on the foot.

“Alan and Agatha, quaint right,” Agatha giggled.

“I guess,” Alinon remarked. “I will go to put clothes on. Leo, where did you put my bag?”

“I’ll show you,” the human male gritted out both from the situation and the irritating nickname Alinon insisted was a thousand times cooler than what was on his birth certificate. “Be right back Agatha.”

After the climb upstairs Alinon stated, “You are upset with me.”

“Upset,” Leonard repeated in a harsh whisper. “Upset. Alinon. She used to be a sensible girl. How the hell does she go from that to ignoring your resemblance to a blue cockroach?”

Alinon was squinting at him. The antenna that Leonard referred to as being bug-like twisted once ant then twice before straightening even as the alien’s back stiffened and a look of acute indignation crossed his face.

“Cockroach?” Alinon hissed.

“I said it,” Leonard challenged.

“Cockroach?”

“Yes.” In truth Leonard conceded, he ordinarily would have compared Alinon to a butterfly if he weren’t so agitated about Agatha. “Now what did you do to my friend?”

The alien took deep breaths in hopes of deleting his fury, he answered civilly. “You said a problem was my appearance. So I changed the way people see me.”

“I still see you,” Leonard pointed out. It vaguely sounded like a complaint.

“Will not work on you,” Alinon imparted.

“Why not?” Definitely a complaint and not mere curiousity.

Alinon shrugged and looked away though Leonard got the distinct impression that he knew the answer and could even tell him in properly formed sentences.

But he didn’t press. “Alright fine. How long can you do that?”

A pause. The alien’s eyes were slow to meet Leonard’s again. “As long as I can keep touching you,” was the answer offered.

This may or may not have been a lie. It was difficult for Leonard to tell. Instead he changed the line of questioning. “Is that why you crawled in to my bed?”

The alien answered yes but Leonard was sure that was definitely a lie. He wouldn’t call Alinon on it; too many forces at work, too many unknowns about his blue shipwrecked visitor.

“Alright, so you changed your appearance, that doesn’t explain Agatha.”

Genuinely peeved, the alien scowled, “Well maybe she likes what she sees.”

Leonard snorted loudly.

“Do not be angry just because you would never be able to attract Jennifer Sexton as I can to Agatha. A cockroach to one person may be another’s butterfly. So back off.” Alinon snarled.

To Leonard’s dismay, he did because he was terrified. Because Alinon had crossed a boundary Leonard was not aware of until that moment. It shouldn’t have been crossed. Not ever. Alinon had not only mentioned Jennifer Sexton directly -- a name he should not know -- but he had also voiced Leonard’s thoughts from mere moments before.

There was an alien in his head after all.

That his best friend was downstairs crushing on.

And he would have to pretend everything was normal.

~ . ~

“So where are you from, Alan?” Agatha asked sweetly, ignoring the tension in the air as no more than morning fog on the ocean.

“Ark—" A glare from Leonard, a quirked eyebrow, and weird alien fingers, less than a second, new answer. “Australia.” Leonard rolled his eyes. Of all the ‘A’ places in my head he chooses that one. A mental rebuke. Couldn’t win.

“Oh really,” Agatha again. “You don’t have the accent.”

“Less trouble that way.”

“Oh I know,” Agatha gushed, grateful for common ground to agree upon, “Just look at Leonard, when he first got here from England people used to nag him to say stuff all the time cause his accent was so thick and proper. Now it’s barely detectable cause he worked at getting rid of it.”

Leonard’s glare transferred from Alinon to Agatha. Depositing facts about his life to his guest was not an option she was allowed to pursue. It was bad enough the odd creature would take what he wanted from his mind at will.

“So Leonard,” Agatha addressed him after a time of only getting minute answers from the alien on various subjects. “What’s this I hear about your indescribably geeky ass getting invited to Jennifer’s party? Is that a joke?”

“No. She really did invite me,” Leonard responded defensively. “Why would it be a joke? I mean, she knows me.”

“R-r-r-right,” Agatha dragged the word out. “So how’d you do it?

“Do what?”

“Get an invite, of course? Cause unless she saw Curtis dragging you off to the little boy’s room for a swirly – there’s no way.”

Leonard’s brows, already dangerously close to being one, merged completely as he glowered. “Are you implying that I couldn’t get invited unless she felt sorry for me?”

“Or, that with school coming to an end she felt she owed you something for that year you were science partners.”

“Now it’s gratitude?”

Alinon was beyond pleased. Agatha was an unlikely ally when it came to putting Leonard in his place but she did it without hesitation or care for Leo’s prickliness. At least he was correct in assuming Jennifer Sexton wasn’t interested in Leonard despite the images in the Earthians head of her also craving what Alinon desired.

“What else could it be, Leonard,” Agatha demanded. “I don’t know where you get off waltzing in fantasy land, but you used to be a sensible human being who would know better. You’re definitely the only guy I can hang out with. And I’m not saying you aren’t cute . . . to somebody . . . But Jennifer Sexton,” Another snort, “I don’t think you’re her type.”

He’d had this conversation before. “You’re just jealous.”

“I am not. Why would I want to hang out with a bunch of people who weren’t spanked enough as children? And why would you?”

Leonard was still angry, but he did share, “I never said I was going, I said I was invited.”

That seemed to diffuse the argument.

“Oh good. I was worried about you for a moment. But still, you have the invite, you may as well go.”

That rekindled it.

“You just said --!”

“I know,” Agatha interjected peacefully, “But Leonard, how often does this opportunity come along? We can go together.”

“Its invite only,” Leonard pointed out.

“Of course I have an invite,” Agatha scoffed.

“How do you have an invite!” the boy exploded.

“Leonard -- I tell you this, you don’t get angry at me for not mentioning it before.”

“Okay.”

“Jennifer Sexton’s mother works for mine. So I get invited every year to Mrs. Sexton’s only daughter’s party. I guess it’s for brownie points,” Agatha shrugged dismissively.

“Are you kidding me?”

“You promised,” she reminded.

“I’m not going,” Leonard declared petulantly.

“And why not?”

“Because I have a guest,” Leonard answered upon seeing his proclaimed cousin shift from the corner of his eye. Agatha need not know exactly how pissed he was at the deception all their years of friendship.

The girl shrugged away his excuse. Leonard thought she did it purposefully so that the sweatshirt dipped lower from her shoulder. Alinon sat on that side of her. “I’ll just say he’s my cousin. If he’s part of the family he’s automatically invited.”

“Agatha . . .”

“No more arguments, case closed. I’m glad we can finally do this together, Leonard.” It was Agatha’s way of making peace.

Leonard was still geared toward war, but he didn’t feel like arguing further. “Alan, cousin, you feel like going?”

Honestly, Alinon didn’t and didn’t want Leo to go either, but there was nothing he could do about it and he felt moved to champion Agatha after her standing up to Leonard so fearlessly. “Sure.”

The female Earthian beamed at him. “Good. Now that that’s settled, what are you wearing?”

Leonard scowled again. “Clothes.”

She rolled her eyes but decided not to push Leonard when she’d already gotten her way. “Alan, you should wear white. It will look fabulous with your complexion.

Alinon blinked. “Um. Okay.” Spiting Leo may have screwed himself. There was no telling what he’d just gotten into.

Cosmic [Ch3/6]

Tue, 24 Mar 2009 01:48:52 GMT

*points up* Told you it's short.

random knowledge:
. Cosmic for us has been a practice in not taking ourselves too seriously. (not like Wish which has sooo much to cover to be understandable)
. In the edit we've actually started making Alinon more interesting on a sexual basis than he was originally.
. Setting is actually 50 or so years from now. gonna have to fix that thing about the notebooks to make it sound more high-tech (tree hugging and all that). i just don't think we'll have come too far as a species in that amount of time. Sure we'll be cleaner and more conscious of waste but we live short lives and change slowly so its likely to be business as usual.
. We call this place, The Realm of Eyalus . . . it even has a tentative Appendix if anyone is wondering. (different from the Omega Appendix -- this place wasn't added yet. and speaking of, anyone from our fan list who has the original Omega Appendix . . . um yeah, its completely revamped, lots of nouns added and divided by the 5 major Realms.)

Previously in Cosmic: Prologue, Ch 1 Ch 2

Cosmic © 2009 property of Kenen and E. Entity. Do not repost. Do not repost and claim as your own. Do read. Do enjoy. Do comment.

Leonard Dukakis knew he should probably be more concerned with the blue alien sitting at his kitchen table studying a word search book his mother was fond of, but he was only peripherally aware of him. He knew that the visitor reeked. He did not know if it were alien body odor or the way he was supposed to smell; he did know Alinon had called the shower primitive when he’d been the proper host and offered it.

He knew -- by shear accidental observation -- that the alien had some weird form of sci-fi eczema-psoriasis rash or disease that bled blue ichor when disturbed. It was slowly but surely conquering his skin. Leonard knew that the skin tore easily by the pieces of tape the creature had put on various places of its exposed arms and legs; Leonard had thought to offer Band-Aids at one point but sadly his attention was turned to other things. Namely, reconciling years of American dialogue against the highly refined rage in his brain that insisted that a shopping cart was a trolley, that he should refer to elevators as lifts, and that he’d found his errant glasses in the loo. And most of all, in his pocket at that very moment, bearing Jennifer Sexton’s signature, Jennifer Sexton’s scent, and Jennifer Sexton’s address, was a time they were to meet.

Not that they were meeting each other specifically per se. Not that he didn’t have the invite for any other reason than Jennifer Sexton’s boyfriend was an ass, but . . .

“How do you say this,” the alien at the table began, “M-A-L-I-C-E?”

“Malice,” Leonard replied almost without thought. Because malice was a word that had been stuck in his brain since the fifth grade when a freckled redheaded girl had lost a competition because of it. Malice had gotten Jennifer Sexton’s arms wrapped around him. The word was special to him.

“What does it mean?”

“I thought you were doing a word search, not jeopardy,” Leonard responded peevishly. He didn’t like things he considered Jennifer Sexton only bandied about by anyone but her. Granted, he hadn’t heard her say a word like malice in a long time; shortly after red bled to blonde to be exact – but still, it was a memory of her.

“Guess not,” Alinon allowed pleasantly, “But I do not know what some words of your English mean. So I am asking.” The set of the alien’s face was harmless, so Leonard relented with a shrug.

He couldn’t really fault a non-native to anything Earth for wanting to learn more about the planet he now found himself. “Y’know cruelty?” Leonard asked.

He watched Alinon’s face scrunch a moment; small nose crinkle, long tilted golden eyes narrow, antenna bunched in the middle of his forehead while the opposite stringy ends twisted round each other. “To be,” he began. Golden eyes focused on Leonard, and for a penetrating moment, the Earthian felt for the briefest of seconds like the alien was privy to his thoughts. As though some presence had brushed his soul with a gentle hand inside his battered brain. It was vaguely disconcerting, even more so because Leonard wasn’t entirely certain that Alinon couldn’t do the things he imagined.

“Mean,” the alien decided was the correct word; he seemed pleased.

Leonard shrugged one shoulder because the word was close enough. “Yes, but it’s to be intentionally – on purpose – cruel for no reason,” he explained.

“Like Curtis Gage?” the question was innocently asked, almost a whisper. In the dead silence of the room, even Leonard’s faulty human ears picked it up and he was quite honestly disturbed because he couldn’t recall telling Alinon about Curtis, or Jennifer Sexton for that matter, because it was none of the alien’s business.

But Alinon Galica knew. That was unacceptable; however, Leonard wouldn’t call Alinon on it; was terrified of the idea because he and no clue that the alien at his table was capable of.

Alinon didn’t appear to be paying heed to Leonard’s internal quandary. He sat, alien face still scrunched, antenna swirled around one another, a pen in his long fingers circling what Leonard could only guess to be the word ‘malice’ in the book.

Leonard ran a hand over the envelop fingering the lace ribbon, noticing that he’d done so often in the last forty-eight hours that the end of the little bow was beginning to fray. Not that the outside mattered. It was the inside that counted, the inside that made him worthy, the inside that apparently a visitor from the galaxy next door could see.

Leonard sighed, tucked the envelop into his pocket once more and looked toward the table where his guest still sat. He had too many things to think about and unfortunately meeting burning golden eyes intently watching him, studying him, only gave him one more and a headache.

~ . ~

Earthians have incredibly jumbled minds Alinon thought again. He had felt so often enough in the last two days of rummaging through Leonard’s thoughts. They seemed intent on worrying over inconsequential things. But to be fair, Leonard didn’t yet know that the Jennifer Sexton human was moot. More than that, Leonard’s fixation on her was completely beyond the Arksus native.

Jennifer Sexton could not eat Leonard Dukakis and if she were seeing this Curtis Gage Earthian, obviously she had no care to either. From what Alinon could pick up from Leonard’s faulty broadcasting, mating was conducted on a level beyond chemical. Alinon had been monitoring the situation through Leonard Dukakis. Whenever the Earthian thought about this Jennifer Sexton his heart sped up, his breath came short, and what was already a sty for a brain became even more cluttered, but at the same time remarkably clear. Focused in way Alinon had yet to achieve in the rare instances that Leonard actually paid him any heed.

This was frustrating to say the least. Because where Leonard’s chemicals didn’t seem to be working, Alinon’s did all too well.

He was purging too often. He thought of Leonard and his body moaned for a taste of the unique chemical structure that made Leonard perfect for him. It protested the utter lack of the source he craved.

Two Earth days and he’d Purged three times. And while it felt good, he didn’t have his life’s essence to spare. Thrice was more that he had in the last six months, even with Merrec routinely feeding him. Alinon was not pleased. At this rate he would be in the same dire straits he’d found himself in before he’d stolen aboard Jach’s ship. This, of course, brought him back to the Earthian, Jennifer Sexton, and the trouble with Earthian mating habits he didn’t understand.

Alinon Galica was angry too. Perhaps it was ridiculous that he felt so, but considering he was a visitor from another planet, Leonard displayed a shocking lack of curiousity about him and his world. He seemed fixated on that letter – invitation – he’d read from Leonard’s mind to Jennifer Sexton’s party. One Leo didn’t think he would go to, but the invite was what counted obviously. Alinon ran a hand along his brow to untangle his antenna and considered all probabilities. After an hour he had a conclusion worthy of even Judus Jach’s skill, and hoped that he might live to see it through.

~ . ~

“Hey Leo,” Alinon started bright and early the next day. He gleaned annoyance from the Human, but little else. Brain sluggish from deep sleep, annoyance due to the shortening of what they’d already discussed was a horrible name, followed by a pressing need for bodily relief and supreme embarrassment that Alinon was around.

“What?” Leo’s voice held that rusty with disuse quality that only sleep could produce; it made Alinon’s body ache in ways he didn’t comprehend but really really wanted to.

“You have something similar here . . . a radio, perhaps?”

“Yeah,” the answer was hesitantly given, as though Leonard sensed trouble brewing.

“Do you know how to fix one?”

Another flash of annoyance followed by what could only be knowledge that answered the question. “Yeah.”

Prior to Judus Jach’s raid, Alinon had been a retail bookkeeper, and as such, legitimately had no reason to know how to make any type of technical equipment work. He was lucky that in this he’d guessed correctly that Leonard would know because Leo struck him as the type to know these things.

“Do you think you could help me, maybe?”

A sigh. “I said I would, but does it have to be right now?”

“No. Later.” Alinon agreed readily enough.

Grudging acceptance, but, “Yeah, okay.”

Alinon smiled in appreciation. And for a moment he heard Leo’s breath hitch and his heart race and then he was flooded with feelings of confusion, embarrassment, and denial.

But still, it was going well in Alinon’s mind.

~ . ~

It was afternoon when Leonard Dukakis and Alinon Galica finally left the house. Saturday morning cartoons had snared both their attention, and Leonard had felt the need to expound on how they weren’t as good as they used to be while Alinon sat amazed by moving, talking, singing, drawings. And then Leonard had needed to eat – another thing Alinon understood only peripherally from the signals in Leo’s brain and stomach. Hunger was very different for Humans.

Leonard carried a small bag with tools and wires he thought he’d need, hoping the effort he was about to put in wouldn’t be in vain. Because honestly, if Alinon’s people were already flying through space as a common occurrence, then it stood to reason that Earth’s technology was a little behind.

“This bothers me,” Alinon said as they trekked through the wood behind Leonard’s house. Alinon wore a pair of jeans from Leonard’s father’s closet and a white sweatshirt because all the other colors seemed to clash with his peculiar shade of blue. His straight, long, platinum hair was braided and coiled into a bun at his nape, gentle wisps framing his narrow face. He was an odd looking thing, but almost cute in a foreign Star Trek kind of way. And Leonard hated himself for thinking that because he didn’t ordinarily pay that much attention to males of any species. And why would he when they’re beautiful creatures like Jennifer Sexton gliding about the Earth on feet that were way too big?

The ship resembled a charred life raft with a metal hood.

“What bothers you?” Leonard thought to ask as he fought delight at finding a real life alien spacecraft in his backyard down to a reasonable level, mellowed even further by natural apathy.

“That none has seen this. Nobody thought to come look,” Alinon answered.

“Leonard snorted. “This is my property and trespassers will be prosecuted. So if anyone did see anything that fell from the sky they wouldn’t come here.” He refrained from mentioning that the neighbors probably thought it was an errant fire work or some weird experiment gone wrong on his behalf. A reputation as a genius came in handy that way.

“Oh.” The alien pouted, “But are Earthians not curious about what is out there?”

“Of course, but ‘Earthians’, as you say, suck. And if they saw you, you’d probably end up in a glass box somewhere being studied until you died and then they’d chop you up into hand held video game slices and study you some more.”

Alinon shuddered. He could see it in Leonard’s mind, the atrocities he spoke of. Odd creatures he’d never seen in his travels held in facilities against their will, slowly but surely, wasting away to nothing under the sharp gaze of heartless Earthian eyes.

Leonard noticed his discomfiture. “Still bothered that no one rushed to your rescue?”

“No,” Alinon was quick to ensure. It was for the best and maybe Leonard having no interest in him was a good thing too. Apparently, he could make a lot of profit to turn Alinon over to the authorities.

“Why don’t you open this thing up and get out that radio?”

Alinon complied, punching the code into a console camouflaged with the rest of the bronze looking material. The lid rose like the sliding door of a minivan. And Leonard got his first look inside. There were actually two seats, though the one behind the pilot’s seat seemed more suited to baggage or a small child than a fully grown adult.

I could fit Leo thought absently. On the computer console were splashes of dried blue fluid and Leo looked to Alinon for a moment, recalled the dizzy spells the alien had experienced and the skin that easily slipped from the creature’s body.

“Were . . . are you injured from when you came down here?”

Finally, Alinon breathed, A personal question

“Yes,” the Arksan answered. “I sometimes still have a bad . . . head pain.”

“You mean a concussion,” the Human guessed.

Scrunched features and entwisted antenna met his direct look for no longer than ten seconds this time as he thought, and then replied, “Yes, that is the word.”

“Should have said something,” Leonard muttered. Head injuries seemed to be going around like miracles in the New Testament lately. “Are you still . . . bleeding . . . anything serious at all?

Leonard taking an interest in him made Alinon mournful that he was fine. “No. I give myself first aid then. Perhaps you should . . . for your head.” Alinon carefully dropped into the crater and reached behind the pilot seat and pulled the Breather free. He offered it to Leo as though it were his most prized possession.

To his credit, Leonard didn’t blow him off, but followed him in to the crater and accepted what looked to be an inhaler, slightly better than the one found on Earth. Definitely in a better container.

“What is it?”

“Vai’s Breath. Just Breathe it. You will feel better. I promise.”

Leonard continued to look skeptical but then shrugged, put the mouth piece to his lips and depressed the knob on top.

And it was like no medicine he’d ever experienced in his life.

For five glorious seconds his lungs were free of all the gunk that had been filling them for years, his head was clear, his body felt clean and unencumbered by flesh, and light, so light, like he could fly toward the sun and be a part of its magnificence . . .

And then the puff of Vai’s essence was over and the concussion he’d suffered from the fall in the tub gone. He returned the Breather to his alien guest in something of a daze. Had he been thinking correctly, he would have kept it, but at that moment he existed in a completely frazzled state of mind juxtaposed to his body’s newly delivered health.

“Good huh?” Alinon’s smug voice penetrated the fog.

“Yeah,” Leonard managed to gasp, but instantly regretted the loss of Vai’s Breath to the unworthy atmosphere. Whoever this Vai person was, he was probably making a fortune off this stuff, Leonard supposed.

Alinon rummaged in the craft and then pressed a few buttons which resulted in the equivalent of a dashboard coming free. He removed a little box and presented it to Leo. “My transmitter,” he said sheepishly.

The outside of the box was a little melted but it looked mostly superficial as far as Leonard could tell.

“Open it,” The Earthian commanded, handing the box back toward the alien.

Another camouflaged button depressed and the box slowly unfolded itself like an origami flower. Immediately Leonard could guess from the ruined wires that the device had likely overheated and burnt itself out.

“Does it have an alternate power source?”

“It doesn’t have a power source,” Alinon contradicted.

“It has to have a power source,”” Leonard argued.

“No. This runs on voice only. They are made with a little . . . chip . . . that has program to . . . that hear a frequency that all planets use.” Alinon bit his golden lip in hope that Leonard understood his broken explanation. Use of English was difficult when Leonard was concentrating and he couldn’t ‘lift’ the right words from his vocabulary.

“So then,” Leonard began obviously having reached a conclusion, “the question becomes how hot this whole craft had to be to slowly bake your radio and how the hell did you survive it? And that aside do you happen to know this frequency?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” Leonard perused the transmitter box. “Cause I don’t think I can fix this. The technology is a bit beyond me.”

Alinon whimpered. “But . . .” His golden bottom lip trembled.

“Oh calm down. I didn’t say I couldn’t help you at all. I said I couldn’t fix this. But if it’s programmed like you say, I may be able to link it to a normal Earth type radio and still locate the frequency you need to get you gone.”

“You don’t want me to stay,” Alinon wondered, inexplicably sick at the thought, he turned away from Leonard.

“Of course not,” the teen answered. “How am I going to explain a tall blue . . . creature at the dinner table when my parents come home? I’m not.”

“Your parents?” Alinon asked, puzzled expression present. His parents would be thrilled if he brought home a mate; shouldn’t Leo’s too be pleased with it? “Is that the only reason?”

“No. Right now you landed in my backyard and came to my house for help. That makes me responsible for you and complicates my life. So unless you can turn yourself into a human being, we’re pretty much screwed if anyone sees you.”

“Is that all?”

“As if that wasn’t enough. Do I have to explain about the little pieces of science you could become again?”

“That is not my question.” It was the first time Alinon scowled directly at Leonard. He stalked around Leo and placed blue hands on Leo’s arms; frowned at the feel of cloth. His fingers slid down to skin and almost instantly he felt better. But he still wanted to be annoyed with Leo’s mixed signals. “Is it alright if I stay with you or not? And if not what are your reasons so I can argue against them?”

Discomfort radiated off the Human. Murky brown eyes kept flicking from Alinon’s golden eyes to the blue hued fingers with golden nails caressing his wrists and hands in a silent warning. He did not like it. He did not know how to tell Alinon to back off. He was afraid because he did not know what the alien was capable of.

Leonard did know that the alien’s lips were getting a little too close to his own. He did know that Alinon’s lashes were so blonde they were almost white as they lay against his cheeks; which were way too close if he was noticing them.

“You ever think maybe you are so short because Earth’s air is too heavy for you?” the alien whispered.

“What are you doing?” Leonard demanded, viciously shoving the idea of visiting the cosmos from his only too willing oversized brain. If the alien wanted to seduce him he had definitely spoken the magic words.

“I am doing nothing,” the answer was breathy

Though technically the alien hadn’t offered any such thing and he had no reason to be giddy, Breath or not. Alinon was right, he wasn’t doing anything. “The hell you aren’t!” Leonard challenged. “Let go. Back up. Start searching your memory for that frequency as we go back to the house, so I can get you out of here.”

Leonard turned, surprised at how easily Alinon’s hands fell away. He looked back, noting the stricken expression on Alinon’s face. The complete woebegone countenance almost caused Leonard to relent and apologize. But he didn’t; he wouldn’t. It was unacceptable. And he wasn’t about to indulge a gay alien. “The fuck is the world coming to,” he muttered under his breath.

“C’mon. Close that thing up and let’s get going. You can tell me about this Vai being whatever it is.” A small concession, though definitely not the one the alien wanted.

Leonard somehow endured the wounded look shot his way from Alinon before he moved to comply.

~ . ~

Gay alien Alinon fumed as he sat at the kitchen table in what could only be termed as a sulk on any planet. Leo had his transmitter and an Earth radio in front of him crossing wires while using some kind of device to make measurements, scribble them down, take more measurements, do calculations that lasted pages when he didn’t use the device, hook a wire, play with the dial, cuss a bit, start over.

Alinon felt he should be the one cussing. Leonard wasn’t dying. Leonard hadn’t found his savior only to be rebuffed. Leonard wasn’t stuck on a foreign planet where he could be snatched up for experimentation. Leonard wasn’t being thought of as a gay alien.

This was something Alinon didn’t understand. The most he could garner from Leonard’s thoughts was that it was a disparaging remark about his sexuality – not that he had one since Leonard wouldn’t participate. He had nothing to compare the insult to. Arksus didn’t have gay nor did they have creatures like Jennifer Sexton either. They had two colors which served certain functions for each other when they were mates.

Red’s produced food laced with the chemicals blues would need to survive. Food that they could not release from their body without their mates help. The ‘food’ eventually conglomerated in the red’s body and turned to poison which slowly but surely and painfully killed them. Alinon was familiar with the procedure. His very own sibling, Nolan, being a prime example.

He’d watched Nolan Galica waste away to nothing before Qark had shown up, slightly sick – read starved – but nowhere near Nolan’s condition. His sibling hadn’t had the benefit of a Vailuable Inhabitant nursing him back to health; even now Nolan was still recovering as his parents, Aland and Noni, watched him with haunted horror in their eyes because they knew it had been close.

Alinon had felt terrible that first day aboard The Merry Death. He knew his parents thought him dead too. Even if the Surfers hadn’t killed him, his lack of a mate would have at that point.

And now Alinon was angry with Leonard Dukakis all over again. He watched through slit eyes as Leonard rerouted yet another wire and fiddled with a knob that moved an orange tab along some numbers. A fizzling, hissing sound could be heard, and Leo looked satisfied; like he’d accomplished a great feat, won a battle.

“At least it’s working, even if I’m not picking up anything,” Leonard imparted.

Alinon decided to be impressed in equal proportions to his anger. All things considered it had taken Leonard the better part of the day to fix his transmitter to an Earthian music player.

“I wish I could have brought this in for my science project. Hey, do you think maybe after you’re rescued you could leave this hear with me?”

Alinon refrained from grinding his teeth. He couldn’t be rescued when he’d been abandoned in the first place. His annoyance shifted to Judus Jach’s callousness. “I do not think that is a good idea.” The alien pointed out.

“Yeah probably not,” Leonard agreed biting his bottom lip; he didn’t seem happy about it. Alinon wished that his teeth replaced Leo’s and that the Earthian’s wistfulness had been directed toward him, but irritatingly enough Leo was Leo, cold like Judus Jach, and didn’t care.

Watching Leonard mull over the transmitter Alinon fought the sudden urge to Purge from the seriousness and glee radiating off him while doing something he loved. He smelled delicious.

Cosmic [Ch2/?]

Thu, 12 Mar 2009 05:07:47 GMT

Judus Jach = Jack Jacy - told you we'd change it.

random knowledge:
Cosmic is one of the stories in the Pegasus universe.
Leonard Dukakis is one of only a few characters with tendencies toward the opposite sex.
Imagine Leonard Dukakis as a combination of Khleo Thomas and Corbin Bleu sorry, too lazy to draw it properly

Previously in Cosmic Prologue, Ch 1

I smell like ass, Leonard thought as he crossed the threshold. He’d worked up a sweat in the corner practicing by himself while the other students, on their last day for the semester, had mock battles, laughing, cheering, tournament like. Leonard thought it unfair to participate and he’d never been well liked by the lot of them.

He swung by the living room and hit the button on the answering machine. After the artificial voice finished its spiel, his mother’s island’s accent filled the room. “Hey, baby, I know you’re at school, and it’ll only be afternoon when you get in, but I wanted to wish you a good night . . . I can still tuck you in right? Okay my genius, we’ll be home in two weeks. Call. Love you, baby.”

Leonard sighed. He was sixteen years old and still a baby to his mother. Briefly he wished his genius sized head hadn’t ruined her ultra petite body so that she could have had more babies like she’d wanted. But that was a broken thing he couldn’t fix.

He climbed the stairs two at a time, negligently tossed his book bag into his room, headed for the bathroom. Nice long shower, some food, a little time in front of the brain deprogrammer would do him a lot of good. Make him forget about past regrets and the invitation.

But the invitation, as it was something in his control, was not as easy to forget about.

He thought about Jennifer Sexton. A happy smile on his face finally. Perhaps it had just taken a while for it to set in, but Jennifer Sexton in her grand gesture had just made herself touchable. His height, within arm’s length, her feet quite capable of fitting his shoes. She didn’t have dainty feet, he realized. Not the kind that fit into pointy toe, heeled stilettos, but more practical flats, or pumps. She was tall. Long legs, curvy in the hips. In the wrong shirts she looked flat, but Leonard had seen cleavage that afternoon on the floor, a ‘J’ pendant hanging between them like a hypnotizing pendulum. The freckled mounds just peeking over the head of her bra.

Perfectly imperfect, but today, touchable.

Leonard took himself in hand. Dropped the soap. He was achingly hard. Not in the haze of idle thoughts on someone who did not know him, but a living breathing woman who had placed her hand on his deliberately when she’d handed him his spilled things.

His hand was torture as it soapy, slickly, eased along his shaft. Up to the head to thumb over the sensitive weeping tip. His breath caught. He wished he could see his own cock from that distance, but his eyes were poor and his glasses on the sink, likely fogged with the heat of his shower. He applied slow steady pressure, eyes closed, breath hitching with every steady stroke.

And then he thought of that hint of cleavage he’d seen earlier, saw every freckle. He imagined her on her knees before him; modest jacket pulled aside revealing the tops of imperfect perfect breasts. His hand sped up and he thought he would cum on those tits, and that dimpled smile, and the cornflake bowls would become frosted.

As the only one home he was not expecting the shower curtain to be yanked aside as his cock twitched and his balls clenched and the first stream shot. He took a step involuntarily, forgot about the soap. Yelled in completion or disorder, the disaster the same as he fell. Blacked out.

+++

Alinon frowned down at the creature with the curly mop of hair. Unmoving, even as the water from the nozzle pelted its face. It hadn’t fallen prettily, smacking its head upon the rim of what could only be a primitive cleaning facility. Alinon studied the dials a moment, understanding the engraved arrows and then successfully turned off the mechanism. He wrapped the Earthian in the towel hanging conveniently by from a bar and hoisted it into his arms.

Earth was by far the most backwater planet he’d ever had the misfortune of landing upon. Not that he’d been on many planets. Including Arksus, his home world, Earth was only his third. He’d never endeavored to travel growing up; his two elder siblings being the ones to inherit the wandering gene from their parents. He’d wanted to remain on Arksus, find his mate, and the do the paperwork his family’s business generated. He was good at it, the only one proficient at balancing the books and knowing exactly what each order contained. And then Judus Jach, the most infamous Surfer of Vai’s Sigh, had come to Arksus, looted a shipment, broke into their family home and made off with the house’s treasures. Alinon had found that unforgiveable and had followed Jach back to his ship, The Merry Death, to exact some sort of revenge or at least demand the return of the items Jach had stolen from the estate; the shipment a small one, and its profits easily replenished, though the Surfer didn’t need to know that.

To his embarrassment, Alinon had passed out then; not quite center of the deck, his arm outstretched before the Surfer who’d been holding an elaborate jewelry box containing the Galica family heirlooms straight from Noni’s vanity.

Alinon Galica was not well – dying to be precise. He’d jumped onboard Judus Jach’s cruiser that day because he’d hoped to at least die with a bit of honor and return to House Galica the things it had lost before he too was gone. In a way, Alinon supposed he should have been grateful to Jach, for surely he would have been dead if he had not snuck aboard The Merry Death. But the ship only provided a quick temporary fix. He was still dying. He felt it. And it would continue until he found the one thing that would save his life permanently. If he were lucky, Jach’s ire would cool, and the Surfer would come collect him before his time ran out.

But in the in between he would just have to settle with finding a place to stay and he hoped that this Earthian in the bed of the room that smelled most strongly of him would help. The room was extremely clean. Models of what he guessed were atoms, and a small chemistry set rested on one surface. There was a bookcase full of volumes on the cosmos. A telescope graced the window. A blade of some sort and equipment was neatly stacked in a corner.

Earth, Alinon decided, was a curious place where curious people did curious things. He wouldn’t lie and say there weren’t similarities between Earth and Arksus; only that in some ways Earth seemed infinitely primitive and overly complicated, a contradiction. Alinon had spent the first day on Earth in his ship, conscious only some of the time. Upon landing, he’d hit his head on the control panel a little harder than he’d thought and after Jach had ended transmission, he’d passed out.

His first thought upon waking was annoyance that a ship had crashed somewhere on a planet and no one had come to see about it. Though the scanner had said that Earth was an industrious planet, it didn’t seem to have any stellar defenses, not even a guard station, or observer, or, well, anything. Alinon hoped that was because they were either so confident about their abilities to ward off threat, or honestly didn’t care who visited. The utter lack of a welcome party of some sort was plain unnerving. He’d climbed out the poor shuttle in to the crater it had made.

Everything smelled of scorched dirt and metal, smoke still wafting from the wreckage. Alinon had looked around, happy to note that though different colors and types, trees still looked recognizable as such. He appeared to be in a forest of some sort. It was bright out and cold. He pulled a blanket from the craft, rummaged around and happily discovered a Breather in the emergency aid kit. He took a puff of Vai’s Breath and was pleased that the fogginess in his brain cleared and the pain of his injuries began to fade, the dull ache in his body from jostling through resistant atmosphere and manhandled by safety harnesses upon landing gone.

He’d cursed himself for not thinking beyond getting away from Judus Jach. Stored what was rightfully his in the emergency kit, closed the shuttle and chose a direction.

The woods turned out to not be larger than three Gods sized handfuls. Large enough to hide a wreck. Soon enough Alinon had come to a clearing and a large brick manor. He saw a figure go in and he had followed. He’d knocked on the door but there’d been no answer. He’d found it unlocked.

Curious dwellings, Earthian homes. He cautiously moseyed in to what could only be a foyer of some type, though he’d never seen one so cramped. Pictures of some odd material hung in frames on the walls. Alinon found himself reanalyzing Earthian advancements a little. Their art was ridiculously life like and accurate. On par with any painter worth anything on his home world. He wondered what medium was used.

In the painting was a family of some sort. A brown skinned Earthian with painted lips, a tall pale skinned one with fur on its face and a child with medium skin tones who looked like a mix between the two older creatures. It was kind of cute. They were very similar in appearance, Arksans and Earthians, Alinon had thought. Like the trees, coloring differed, and a few shapes were different, but overall, they could be recognized as the intelligent speaking species of the planet.

He’d moved past the foyer and up the stairs a little uneasily. He had yet to run in to the Earthian he’d seen entering the home. The upstairs consisted of a short hallway with closed doors branching off from it. That’s when he’d heard running water and determined where the elusive Earthian must have gone.

And now he sat on a bed with a deep green blanket, a host of this alien world knocked out before him. It was the child from the painting. Older now. Curly hair much longer. A little taller with leanness to the cheeks where before there had been baby fat. Alinon never thought he’d say it about any creature not an Arksan, but the Earthian was beautiful . . . edible.

Alinon bit his lip. On Arksus, he’d been content in the knowledge that unlike his sibling, Nolan, a miracle would not happen to prolong his life now that he’d started Purging regularly. Aboard The Merry Death he’d caught a break in that a Vailuable Inhabitant resided in the ship and had kindly fed him since Merrec could without negative side effects to Alinon. And now that Judus Jach had banished him from the The Merry Death, and he didn’t know how many light years he was away from home, and his parents had no notion of what had become of him, Alinon had once again resigned himself to wait on Jach until his death, or wait on Jach until his death; his options only went so far.

His race, the Arksan, relied heavily on chemical makeup and the only way to tell if one’s body were running properly was by smell. Before puberty a child’s body produced all the hormones needed for a very specific scent, and that essence was used to keep skin and hair healthy. However, when the change in chemical makeup came it was time to search for a mate that contained the necessary elements. Thus far, Alinon had not found that mate.

He had not expected to crash land on Earth and like the way one of the species looked. He reached out a tentative blue hand to tug a wet curl and his golden lips tilted upward in a smile as it bounced back. His fingers tingled from the residue of the creature’s hair. But it was a good tingle; a thousand times greater than the one he’d gotten from Merrec. The Earthian was different but at the same time so pretty. Skin that looked like sun baked cream, and full dusky rose lips. Eyelashes that curled over prominent cheekbones. He didn’t have antenna like Arksans, Alinon noted, but, like Judus Jach, it bore eyebrows with a bridge between them almost creating one. He still resembled the child in the painting, but this older version was just as adorable. Better yet, he would have much more use in his grown up state, Alinon hoped so at least.

The creature groaned and Alinon waited patiently for it to wake itself up. In its unguarded moment the alien gleaned his name from its thoughts. He frowned deeply. What were his parents thinking? Even Alinon, an alien to the planet he was on, understood an aesthetically pleasing name and what wasn’t. When those murky brown eyes squinted at him, Alinon fixed his mouth into what he hoped was a non-threatening smile. It was always so difficult to tell with different races, some preferred scowls. “Leonard Dukakis, you give quite a first . . . thought.” The name had thrown something off, Alinon worried internally. The words didn’t flow properly, though he knew he was speaking the right language.

The boy blinked. “I get the feeling I’m supposed to be embarrassed but . . .” he began dryly and then winced and grabbed the back of his skull, “we’ll just save that for later, shall we?”

Alinon offered a small sheepish shrug. “Are you fine? Sorry I spook you.” Wrong, wrong, he fretted. What is with this language.

Leonard waved him off. “We’ll just say I’m clumsy and pretend it didn’t happen . . . But what were you thinking letting me sleep like that? I could have slipped into a coma.”

“I was watch--monitoring your state, you were fine.”

“Oh. Must be an alien thing . . .” Leonard replied absently. He closed his eyes a moment and exhaled. “Just like knowing my name before I tell you must be an alien thing?” he asked pointedly.

Alinon picked at his hand as he thought about what to say. He’d never failed to know a language before; he would have to pay more attention to the word and context – the skin lifted from his hand like peeled flesh from a fruit. He was briefly horrified, but could not show the Earthian there was anything wrong. He put the skin back, gently soothed it into place, and frowned “You are taking this a lot better than I thought you would,” the alien deflected smoothly. Proper. Lose skin, speak proper. Perfect.

“Consider my blow to the head as a sedative. What else could make a person this calm sitting in the buff before a stranger, Mr . . .? what do I call you? I can hardly say Mr. Alien . . . or is it Miss?”

“It is Alinon Galica.”

“Which doesn’t answer the question. You come from a good alien family I suppose? Didn’t do anything untoward while monitoring me?”

It’s the Earthian, Alinon decided. The Earthian had once spoken differently, and had taught himself not to for whatever reason. “I may be was tempted,” Alinon grinned without repentance.

“Then that proves my theory that aliens have no taste whatsoever,” Leonard mumbled more to himself than Alinon. He shook his head slowly, grimacing as his neck popped. “I take it you need a place to stay?”

Alinon blinked. “Well, I – yes. That would be nice.”

“Tools, machine parts . . .” Leonard prompted.

“Well . . . yes. How did you know?”

Leonard pinched the bridge of his nose and then cast about for something he obvious didn’t see as he gave up a few seconds later. “Oh come off it. We humans may be a bit stupid but even we know that no semi intelligent other life form would come to Earth willingly.” He turned his eyes away from Alinon’s direct gaze. “And stop looking at me like that. I’m naked, vulnerable, have a contusion on my brain . . . and you’re blue.”

Cosmic [pro-ch1/?]

Thu, 26 Feb 2009 02:04:59 GMT

how this all got started: well, something like more than 10 years ago while listening to Jamiroquai's Traveling Without Moving cd, track numero 2, Cosmic Girl and reading this trashy futuristic romance novel, E and i laid out the proper premise for the SkyPirates (called Sigh Surfer's) in the Realms belonging to Vai. Unfortunately, we tend to have a lot of ideas and a propensity for procrastination and laziness bordering on criminal (forgive us), and as such our main Surfer, - Jack - has a name that has already been made famous, damn you Disney. For right now we're leaving it Jack, because well, you'll see if we should ever get to his story properly instead of him existing vicariously through your learning about members of Jack's crew. So the name will likely change to Jax or Jace (grr none of which bear the proper ring to it combined with his Legendary Name: Ice Eyes) but we're feeling nostalgic; 10 yrs plus, we finally finished a book dammit, w00t! . . . now its just typing it *sighs*, this is our only priority til its done.

Oh by the way, it reads very odd, you have to think about two people telling the same story with different priorities on what's important to divulge, lots of commas, half-assed sentences and what could be run on sentences -- not all of them, though, some are pure negligence.

We're not hiding this one. we're proud. can we do that?

Cosmic © property of Kenen and E. Entity. Do not repost. Do not repost and claim as your own. Do read. Do enjoy. Do comment.

Prologue

“Dammit, Jack, what are you so upset about!” The small ship shuddered and groaned as it barely weathered another hit. Its pilot was bathed in crimson luminescence that caused his blue skin to glow lavender, warning sirens blaring in his wispy ears. His long, tapered fingers flew over the control panel, one golden eye on the cracked screen before him, the other on the craft’s heating gauge. The thermometer was slowly but surely reaching maximum heat. Amber lips barely moved as he swore under his breath.

Ice Eyes Jack Jacy, the most infamous Sigh Surfer in all of the cosmos, was not going easy on him. The Surfer’s old fashioned ship, The Merry Death, had his sails fully extended and blazed with crystal power. The canons were being reloaded by a bustling crew as Jack Jacy peered through a scope at Alinon’s own, broken, stolen craft. The Merry Death was easily gaining on him.

“Alinon Galica . . . giving . . . three seconds!” Jack’s voice cackled over the failing communicator.

“Oh, come off it, Jacy, I told you what I was after when you found me on,” Alinon growled back. Fingers tapped over the control panel. His query was for an industrial planet nearby that he could safely crash on. While he rebuilt his shuttle he could hide out from Jack until the Sigh pillager’s anger cooled. Hopefully, I won’t die before then, Alinon thought morbidly.

“ . . . Three . . .”

The damaged system took three extra nanoseconds to process a suggestion. Alinon’s already failing humor completely blackened. Where in Vai’s Breath did that lunatic take us? But there was no choice for Alinon if he couldn’t talk Jack Jacy out of this snit the Surfer had worked himself into. “Oh come on now, Jack, you liked me well enough before this happened. Did you think I was playing around?”

“Think . . . am? . . . Two.”

Alinon exhaled gustily in complete annoyance and then bit his golden hued bottom lip as he confirmed the course. The blast from The Merry Death’s canon should give the shuttle the extra boost it needed to make it. “Jacy, you’re being completely unreasonable.”

“ . . . How unfortunate . . . One.”

“JACK JACY!”

+++

Alinon groaned and placed one hand to the back of his aching skull. The landing hadn’t been one of his best. At least the shuttle hadn’t blown up. He sat back slowly, wincing as a his neck twanged in outcry and a scab he hadn’t been aware of ripped, causing light blue blood to ooze down his forehead. The communicator was fizzling. Jack Jacy’s voice, very faint, anxiously called to him.

“Alinon Galica, so help me, if you’re dead . . .”

The blue pilot touched his forehead, winced and then grumbled, “Dammit Jack, you’re not supposed to sound so worried.”

“I lost my temper,” Jack mumbled, barely intelligible over the ruptured system.

Alinon groaned again but for a completely different reason. He could imagine Merrec, the Surfer’s voice of reason, glowering at Jack for the incident that had just occurred. Alinon decided to be forgiving, if only to smooth it over between them. “Stop. It’s not very intimidating for the most nefarious Surfer of Vai’s Sigh to apologize.” Technically, Alinon thought, Jack hadn’t said he was sorry.

Alinon sighed tiredly. “Just come down here and pick me up and we’ll call it quits.”

There was a pause and Alinon feared the severely malfunctioning communicator had finally died. But then Jack’s voice cackled through it to fill the crimson stained pilot cabin. “No.”

“What!” Alinon jerked his head up as though he could see Jack Jacy before him; he instantly regretted the movement. Pain danced along his spine making his vision blur and head swim.

“You can give me a call when you’re ready to apologize.”

“Jack . . .”

“If I can admit when I’m wrong so can you. You stole from me remember?”

Technically, the alien wanted to say, but decided it best to save that argument for another time.

“Jack . . .” Alinon repeated a little more urgently.

“Are you injured?” the Surfer queried.

“Yes,” Alinon answered in a tone that suggested that his condition should have been obvious.

“Good,” Jack chirped. “Stay there for a while and heal up the old fashioned way.”

“Dammit Jack!” Alinon’s golden lips pursed together in irritation. Ice Eyes Jack Jacy was well named; especially if he could endure the disappointed glare Merrec was undoubtedly leveling him. Alinon waited to see if the captain would say more or maybe change his mind. However, the cabin remained quiet but for a few sparks occasionally flickering through the computer’s wrecked system. If Jack Jacy had wanted to punish the blue skinned stowaway he had succeeded beyond his wildest imagination. “You bastard, Jack Jacy, you could at least tell me what an ‘Earth’ is.”

Chapter 1

Cosmic
By: Kenen and E.
Warnings: Unbetaed, male x male, stereotyping, art later.

Just one more class, Leonard Dukakis thought as he spun the combination to his locker. One more fifty-five minute session of pleasure or hell and then he would be free for the next month or forever depending upon what he decided. He had enough credits to graduate from high school now instead of in the spring, but there was something holding him back. And as he turned his head slightly to the side, and peered up the hallway he saw it on the arm of Curtis Gage, quarterback, and resident asshole of Precise Excellence Academy. He was also the boyfriend of Jennifer Sexton, the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen in his life.

It wasn’t that Jennifer even knew of his existence, he was fairly sure that peripherally, somewhere in the back of her gorgeous mind, she had seen him; would know him in a lineup. But in graduating early Leonard would lose almost -- read all -- chances of seeing her at least for one more semester. Five and a half months of distantly worshipping golden blonde hair, intelligent forest green eyes, and generous lips that rarely saw make-up. She had freckles all over her body and Leonard imagined each one to be a tiny erotic spot. She wore thin, pink rimmed glasses; though, once or twice, on picture days, Leonard had seen her in contacts. She was way too good for Curtis.

Unfortunately, Curtis Gage did not think the same as he scanned the hallway and happened to notice Leonard’s gaze. “You looking at my girlfriend, dweeb?” he was demanded.

Leonard Dukakis was acutely aware of the other students bustling down the hallways to their other classes, or making a pit stop as he was to their lockers. He was also consciously aware of most of that activity stopping, taking keen interest in Curtis Gage, their hero, addressing his lowly self for having dared befoul what Curtis claimed as his with Leonard’s myopic eyes.

“I asked you a question.”

Leonard pushed thick glasses further onto his nose and took a deep breath, trying to look anywhere but at Curtis Gage. His idea was to let ‘big alpha male’ parade, show his ass, beat on his chest, the works, if he didn’t make eye contact then Curtis would have proven his dominance and subsequently leave him alone. Leonard was no good at the supremacy game. No good for that chest thumping, playful punching ritual those larger males tended toward.

He was supposed to be doing something, apologizing, something to take the stares and Curtis Gage’s regard from his person. Leo shook his head almost steadily in denial. “Nothing,” he answered.

He supposed it was what Curtis wanted to hear. He turned in to his locker wanting it to be over with; hoping he was small and pitiful enough to not warrant further humiliation. To an extent he was. He felt better about the situation – Curtis, not so much. Gage seemed angry at the compitulation, thwarted whatever pleasure he received from picking on those smaller than himself. Leonard was oblivious to the danger. He placed the books in his locker and closed it, turned to see Curtis Gage, scowl still firmly in place. Leonard felt he had severely miscalculated something. It was . . . unlike him.

By all accounts, Curtis should have done his manly protector of all things Jennifer Sexton and disappeared. But he hadn’t yet, and Leonard felt very small indeed. His book bag was slapped from his hands and he let it fall. Ah, he thought. Threats not enough today. Dominance games were tiresome; today it would be physical. A reminder of why Curtis dated Jennifer. A parody of competition.

His sweater was seized in a meaty fist and he was hoisted at least five inches from the linoleum. “See that you keep looking at nothing,” he was ordered.

He was then left to gravity and fell to his knees. Already forcefully bent low he began to retrieve his fallen bag. Curtis Gage left. He would be late for practice if he dallied any longer.

And then something out of the ordinary occurred. Something he never would have considered in all his life. Jennifer Sexton, waiting in the wings until Curtis’ form disappeared around a corner, knelt beside him and helped to replace the few pens and loose notebooks that had fallen from his open bag. It was no good, Leonard was a wreck.

How many times had he wondered if she had noticed him? How many times had he wished for a moment much like this one – reversed; he should be helping her, proper Homo sapiens after a Neanderthals fumbling with the courtesies and speak of civilized men.

“I’m sorry about him,” she said. Her voice was steady to Leonard, always firm and sure of what she was going to say.

Leonard’s mouth quirked, “It was bound to happen sooner or later.”

“Why?” she queried, head tilted, their eyes met.

“Because . . .” there was no nice way to say it, and no need to sugarcoat it as she’d already acknowledged what her boyfriend did wrong. “That’s what your boyfriend does.”

“Yes . . .” A pause, a push to the glasses on her face, and then, “Yes, but I feel I should make it up to you somehow.” She smiled, dimpled her cheeks, making little bowls of freckles. “You should come to my party.”

Leonard blinked, unsure if his thick glasses had somehow confused his ears, because Jennifer Sexton, the girl of his fantasies, had just asked him to her Christmas party. It was invite only. It happened every year. Only those considered ‘cool’ were ever encouraged to show their faces there. Cool, but otherwise the dregs of humanity; the popular kids. The ones with artificial feelings, superficial faces, inconsequential brains. It was no good, Leonard did not want to attend even if it was Jennifer Sexton who stood beside him digging in her checkered pink book bag to produce an invitation wrapped in an ornate Christmas envelop.

She handed it to him like it was her most prized possession, and Leonard Dukakis, five foot nothing, blinded by dimples that looked like mini containers of corn flakes, couldn’t refuse.

He should feel elated, but he didn’t. Jennifer Sexton was the girl he had watched from afar since moving from the English countryside to the America’s when he was eight. She was the ‘older woman’, two grades his senior until he’d been tested and found above average than his peers. When his parents asked if he wanted to skip a grade or two, of course he had said yes. Not completely because of Jennifer, no, but she had come into consideration. Then she had been the pretty, freckled, pigtailed redhead – which had since dulled to a burnished blonde.

In fifth grade they had competed in a school wide spelling bee together. She had lost in the final round and he’d gone on to be the victor. She had given him a hug then, and said congratulations without malice – which, coincidentally enough, was the word she had misspelled.

In eighth grade they’d been lab partners in Biology. She hadn’t been squeamish as they dissected reptiles or studied dragonflies pinned to a collector’s board. She hadn’t begged not to be paired with the little nerd with the thick glasses over her boyfriend at the time. Though they’d met up on numerous occasions over the years, Leonard could honestly say it had been a rather detached relationship.

The boundaries had never blurred, and never hoped too.

But he had a much coveted Jennifer Sexton invite in his hands and perhaps his years of idol worship would finally pay off.

For once people stepped out of his path rather than in to it – or through it – as he navigated to fencing, his last class of the day. He changed in to the required jacket, three weapon mask, and gloves. He left the mask up as he chose his favorite foil. The blades were real enough, though very dull, and had a protective rubber barrier over the tip. He had all this and more in much better quality at home. Jacket, plastron, mask, glove, pants, and a custom made electric sabre, all that a two-time regional fencing champion would need to take the title once again.

He stretched with his classmates, enough to keep the class from cancellation, but an odd numbering. Leonard usually paired with the instructor as he’d been fencing since he was six. His father had suggested a sport then, something to even the odds for him against children who refused to grow at a normal rate. The choices had been fencing, fútbol, football, or track. Leonard supposed if he hadn’t chosen one of them his overprotective father would have chosen dueling pistols or worse. His father had claimed he needed to build character, of course, learn to survive. Because all second graders should be familiar with the art of pistol whipping bullies. Still, Leonard was grateful to his father. At the time, at best, he could have been called clumsy, a living breathing invitation for mockery. In training with a heavy practice epee against foes with longer reach he had learned a quick grace that had saved him from many disasters.

Now as he fell into the familiar repertoire of defense, attack, block, everything returned to proper perspective. He should toss Jennifer Sexton’s invite in to the trash on his way home – get rid of it, get rid of the proof that she had deigned to defy Curtis Gage, resident God and porta-potty of Precise, and help him after being accosted. Ignore that this was what he’d wanted all his life: Jennifer Sexton looking at him in concern for more than her grade or where she had fallen short.

The invitation remained safely in his book bag all the way home.

as the world didn't end . . .

Fri, 05 Jan 2007 03:44:14 GMT

it's that time of year again! happy birthday TJ -- the greatest adopted sister on the planet.

i knew there was something 'off' about me . . .

Fri, 29 Dec 2006 04:13:32 GMT

You scored as Neither. You think neither like a man nor like a woman. What you are you may decide for yourself. Most people will consider you strange, alien, weird or funny. You are probably quite interesting.

</td>

Neither

68%

Male

64%

Either

46%

Female

29%

Should you be MALE or FEMALE?*
created with QuizFarm.com

birthday wishes

Wed, 22 Nov 2006 14:07:15 GMT

sendin' love (and a heater) to a very symmetrical and special, steelsong on her birthday. take it easy.

yes i'm still MIA but . . .

Thu, 16 Nov 2006 08:24:30 GMT

ordinarily i am the Grinch of all Grinches during the holiday season. but i'm trying something new this year since i saw this at fyredancer who saw it at aimeekitty's . . . only for my peice of mind lets not think of this as "holiday" stuff, but more like early or belated birthday presents given at the end of the year (or beginning in my case):

RULES

*Step One: Make a post to your LJ. The post should contain your list of 10 GEEKY ~~holiday~~ birthday wishes; the wishes can be anything at all, from simple ("I want a fanfic!") to medium ("I want toys!") to really big. The important thing is, make sure these wishes are things you really, truly want.

If you wish for real life things (not fics or icons), make sure you include some sort of contact info in your post, whether it's your address or just your email address where Santa (or the MaccaBee, or your secret special friend) could get in touch with you. Also, make sure you post some version of these guidelines in your LJ so that the holiday joy will spread.

*Step Two: Surf around your friendslist (or friendsfriends, or just random journals) to see who has posted their list. And now here's the important part: If you see a wish you can grant, and it's in your heart to do so, make someone's wish come true.

You needn't spend money on these wishes unless you want to. The point isn't to put people out, it's to provide everyone a chance to be someone else's holiday elf to spread the joy. Gifts can be made anonymously or not; it's your call! There are no rules with this project, no guarantees, and no strings attached. Just... Wish, and it might come true. Give, and you might receive. And you'll have the joy of knowing you made someone's ~~holiday~~ birthday special...

i wish for:

~ Three interested readers of my original work who will faithfully comment, cheerlead, complain when i don't update, etc...

~ Someone with loads of free time, interest, artistic ability, proficiency with photoshop (or something similar), background savvy, with excellent color coordination to color my webcomic for me cause i suck at it

~ i like almost all teas but i'm a green tea addict and can often be seen down at the oriental market . . .

~ registered font-a-holic. if you have a really cool font that you don't think too many people have by all means send it, or if want to make me my own font i'd feel incredibly special

~ been looking for Time after Time - Cyndi Lauper, that is my favorite song; it would be awesome if i could actually listen to it instead of randomly humming it while doing housework. or just music in general, i like basically all kinds except country and bluegrass.

~ drawing pens, i'm all out.

~ highly unlikely but, the 1983-84 version stuffed winnie the pooh bear that had the built in music box that you wound up and it played its theme song... mine was lost 10+ years ago when we moved to japan and i still miss it

~ and lastly, not something that can actually be given, but i'd really like to find my purpose, cause this whole drifting, depressing, uncertainty thing is really pissing me off and wearing me out

[hng]Hoshi, Chapter Three

Thu, 05 Oct 2006 15:09:51 GMT

alright children. not my best. been having a rough time typing this. after some thought, decided to leave everything as it was (didn't like the remix at all). final chapter should be out in the next few days.

Hikaru no Go is a product of Hotta and Obata; i am unworthy.
For Lottery Winner: Brett Boyette

It was a day just like any other when China’s amateur competitor Lee Lin Shin logged on to his computer to play internet Go. He absently scrolled through the list of probable opponents, deciding who he would play based on name alone. He saw the usual suspects, who were neither a challenge but not a complete bore either, like Queen and Ozzy. He briefly watched a game between Lao Zi and Maiden wondering if he would challenge the winner of that battle, but they were still in the early stages of fuseki and it would be a while. Continuing to scroll downward he stopped short when a name he hadn’t seen in a year blinked before him.

The last time America’s Michael Jones had seen Sai’s name had been a year ago when an imposter had used the name and made a mockery of the game they all loved. He didn’t think another person would do that after the electronic flames they’d sent the last guy, but one could never be too sure. There was only one way to find out, and that was to challenge this purported Sai. But he didn’t want to risk the disappointment of another fake.

Korea’s Kim had only seen Sai play twice in his lifetime. He’d felt cheated for a long time concerning that because the two games he’d seen were truly brilliant and he’d wanted a chance at him. When Sai’s name appeared on his computer screen he hesitated only a moment before issuing a challenge to the mysterious Japanese Go genius.

In Holland, on a break from teaching his students, Niels Caspar logged on to his computer for a quick and relaxing game against a competitor he could not see. What he found was Sai slicing Jeju Go Seoul’s fingers at the joints while he still held the stone perfectly on his fingernail. Jeju Go Seoul resigned shortly after that. Niels Caspar’s breath caught in his throat and he ran a shaking hand through his short blond hair. The Sai was back.

* * *

Shindou Hikaru fidgeted outside of the Go Institute and looked to his watch for the time again. Sai was late and he was worried. He’d left their new apartment for his usual Thursday match up four hours ago upon Sai pinky-promising that he would be able to find his way to the building at the right hour. He should have known better. Sai was much stronger now but was still prone to lapses in strength and frequent hospital visits for lungs unused to breathing, or too rapid a heartbeat. His weakness had conspired to keep him from taking the insei test and instead he spent his days at home playing ‘net Go unless they had something else planned or he had a pro exam preliminary match to attend. Today they were having lunch with Waya and Isumi who hadn’t been scheduled for games that day to celebrate Sai passing the prelims -- as if there were ever any doubt. Yashiro Kiyoharu had been seated beside him during the match ups. Since Hikaru hadn’t seen him in a while he’d decided to invite him along for the lunch also.

Touya had had a match too.

Hikaru didn’t know what to think about that. In three months Touya Akira hadn’t spoken a word to him. This wasn’t unusual, the bleach-blonde boy could recall numerous occasions over the years where he and Touya had refused to acknowledge each other’s existence. It was different this time. This time he had no idea what he’d done to offend Touya Akira. And he’d already tried to apologize, make overtures to reclaim their questionable friendship. Nothing had worked and he was tired. He was not going to beg Touya Akira to be his friend.

“Hikaru!”

Sai had a very distinctive yodel when it came to his name the boy decided as he looked up and saw his mentor waving an aqua and olive fan at him from a block away. Hikaru never would have thought those colors together would look good on a human being but Sai wore the matching tunic and hat as though an artist had mixed it especially for him. There was finally a ‘living’ hue to Sai’s cheeks, and as he reached Hikaru and threw an arm around him in greeting, Hikaru was happy to note the smile on Sai’s face was real and not forced passed a façade hiding pain.

“Hey,” Hikaru said.

“Told you I could do it,” Sai beamed. He looked around once. “Where’s Waya and Isumi?”

“Late,” Hikaru answered shortly.

Sai frowned. “But after all that, I’m definitely hungry.”

“Ramen okay?”

“Of course.”

“Waya will fuss for sushi,” Hikaru warned.

“Then he should have gotten here on time,” Sai countered.

It would probably still come down to Jan-Ken between them, Hikaru surmised. Isumi was pretty belligerent about taking Waya’s side in everything.

‘That’s because Isumi and Waya like each other.’ Sai’s voice drifted to him from their still active link.

Shindou shook his head vehemently. “No they don’t!” he snapped aloud, completely appalled at what Sai had said.

“Yes, they do. Thick numbskull that you are, you wouldn’t notice something like that.”

“Shindou, wouldn’t notice what?” Yashiro Kiyoharu wondered as he exited the Go institute and leaned against the wall beside Hikaru and Sai.

“A crush between two people,” Sai confided.

To his credit, Yashiro did appear to think it over before answering, “True enough,” with a decisive nod.

“Augh!” Shindou scoffed. “You’re supposed to be on my side. You don’t even know him.” He glared at the white haired professional player.

Yashiro shrugged. “You appear to, that’s good enough.” He offered a smile to Sai. “Yashiro Kiyoharu, nice to meet you.”

“Fujiwara Sai, nice to meet you too, Hikaru has mentioned you once or twice.”

‘Hikaru, why isn’t he reacting to my name like everyone else does?’

‘Yashiro’s from the Kansai Institute, he doesn’t know about you or all the trouble you caused that first time.’

‘Oh?’

For a moment Yashiro appeared offended. “Once or twice? That’s all? I’ll have you know I am the only one who can compete with Hikaru’s completely twisted Go at his level.”

“No you can’t, you haven’t beaten me once yet,” Hikaru boasted.

Rather than take the bait, Yashiro turned to Sai. “Hey, Fujiwara, you play Go?”

“Of course,” Sai answered enthusiastically.

“Then you can decide if I’m better than Shindou if you play me sometime.”

“I’d like that.”

Hikaru snorted. “Yeah, right. If you can’t even beat me you’re never gonna win against Sai.”

The door to the institute closed behind a short kid with auburn hair and snooty expression on his face. He pushed circular lenses further upon his nose as he asked, “Oh, really?”

“Yeah,” Hikaru responded before realizing to whom he was speaking.

Ochi Kousuke had been his opponent earlier that afternoon. After his defeat Ochi had disappeared to the little boys’ room as was his wont. Apparently he was done now and ready to inflict his glowing personality on the rest of humanity.

Hikaru expected a scathing remark and was just as shocked as Yashiro as they witnessed the permanent scowl on Ochi’s face drift in to a slack-jawed parody of expression. Beady eyes hidden behind large lenses had widened significantly. And there was silence.

“Hi,” Sai greeted.

But Ochi had been struck mute.

Shindou elbowed Yashiro in the gut. “I do so notice,” he stated.

Yashiro clipped the back of his head with a straight hand. “This one is ridiculously obvious.”

“What’s ridiculously obvious?” Touya Akira audibly mused as he passed through the Go institute’s doors.

“Nothing,” Hikaru and Kiyoharu both answered.

“Oh.”

“Hey, Touya,” Yashiro began before the younger Touya could move on. “We’re going to lunch as soon as Waya and Isumi arrive. You wanna come?”

Briefly, serious blue eyes met Shindou Hikaru’s. Hikaru lifted an eyebrow in acknowledgment but remained quiet. “Sure,” Touya accepted.

* * *

Stupid!

Just stupid, Touya raged. He marched up the pathway to his house. A bitter fight ensued between key and the lock before he realized the door was already open. Mood not improved, he shoved through the door, misjudged where he was in relation to it as he slammed it back resulting in clipping his elbow and getting his sweater-vest caught in the jam at the hip. He bit his lip to keep from crying out at the stinging pain racing from his elbow and pelvis to his brain, took a purposeful step forward only to realize he couldn’t, sling-shot from fast-forward to rewind to receive a doorknob in the gut and an instant headache as his forehead connected with the dangling metal bolt from the chain lock.

“Dammit!”

“Akira?” Touya Kouyo wondered as he left the sitting room with eyebrows drawn up to his hairline. “Are you alright?”

This was a stupid question as far as Touya Akira was considered. Of course he wasn’t okay. Foolishly, he had broken his resolve against seeing Shindou until his stupid infatuation faded. Foolishly, he had gone to lunch under the pretense that if it was Yashiro who had invited him then he hadn’t a reason to turn him down.

Lunch had probably been wonderful by everyone else’s standards. His rival, both his rivals had been having the time of their lives. Celebrating as if Rival Number Two didn’t win everything he wanted -- as though it were some great shock. And he’d watched, Touya Akira had, he’d watched as Shindou spoke with all, laughed with all, but still managed to make it seem like he and Fujiwara were the only ones at the table.

Touya and Ochi -- who hadn’t been invited but had decided to tag along anyhow -- had been seated further down. Touya knew he was really on the outs with this little group due to the spot, stuck as he had been beside the miserably spoiled Ni-Dan. And then Ochi had spoken; the typical whine about Shindou and all things pertaining to him spilling from his lips.

“Why is it always Shindou?” the short player had whispered to him. “First he’s some Go genius who came out of no where, you acknowledge him, the entire Go world notices him, and even pretty girls cling to him.”

Touya had been about to tune Ochi out until he’d heard that last part. “Girls?” he’d asked.

Ochi had stared at him as though a foot were growing from his ear.

“Miss Fujiwara,” Ochi had hissed in a tone that implied Touya was his mental inferior.

Touya rarely took any pleasure out of being deliberately malicious, but to inform Ochi in the same superior speaking to inferior tone that Fujiwara Sai was male had been the highlight of his entire rotten day.

Ochi had meekly excused himself with mumbles of ‘I’m going to be sick.’ Touya had been delighted. Served the brat right. He’d continued eating his meal and watching Shindou interact with the others, slightly jealous of their easy rapport, but happy to be indirectly included nonetheless. Waya and Isumi, who had been late but refused to offer explanation, had spoken of the Annual Amateur Go Tournament coming up and how they’d been commissioned by the institute to help out. Isumi claimed Shindou would probably be receiving the same summons in the near future. And then Sai, who had become ridiculously attached to Yashiro and vice versa in so short a time had questioned the white haired boy about his home life.

“You’re parents still giving you grief?” Hikaru had asked then.

Yashiro had nodded, rolled his eyes at the heavens. “Yeah, I’d move out but it’s too expensive right now. Maybe after I save up a little more.”

Hikaru had glanced at Sai, Sai had almost imperceptibly nodded. “Well, we have an extra room at our place,” Rival Number One had offered.

Touya still ground his teeth together every time he thought about it. He wanted to let the door finish what it started in banging his head against it repeatedly. Why Yashiro and not me?

It occurred to the younger Touya that he was still caught in the door, his head ached, his elbow throbbed, it felt like his pelvic bone was glaring up at him for its ill treatment, and his father was yet awaiting a response. “No. No, I’m not alright.”

comment central

Sat, 30 Sep 2006 15:57:14 GMT

for those of you wishing to get in contact with us entitys for any reason -- nag us to continue writing, comment on a story, just ask whats'up? -- feel free to leave a message here.

hikago my kind of fic

Fri, 18 Aug 2006 22:18:58 GMT

i feel that i should explain what happened with the whole lotto fic thing for Hikaru no Go. see, what had happened was around the time i began posting Hoshi i started to receive hate mail -- and not because the probability of hikaru screwing sai was higher than akari either. people -- a lot of people -- were having issues with the angels of all things. their greivances included but are not limited to, that they exist, or they show up too much, or they're misnamed. i can't begin to tell how much hell i caught for giving raphael uriel's powers or calling michael 'the Judge'. as a result, i got so irritated with the story and its readers that i set it aside and said i'd write more when i felt better about the whole mess.

i guess i'd like to apologize for my taking so long to feel better. currently i'm re-writing the already posted chapters of Hoshi to see if i can stay true to my outline without using the angels at all. this should quell all objections and i can get back to enjoying my fic, and so can everybody else.

in other news, the site should be getting a major overhaul in a few weeks. hopefully it'll get better too.

finally

Fri, 30 Jun 2006 00:01:12 GMT

3 1/2 years and $25,000 later, as of today at 6:55pm we are college graduates.

fuck.

hehe

Wed, 04 Jan 2006 06:01:55 GMT

HAPPY BIRTHDAY SIS!!!