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because kia said so.
Jun. 22nd, 2011 10:40 pmjust as a warning, this fic deals with romantic advances on a 43-year-old man by a 14-year-old boy. who knows what it'll contain when i'm done with it, but for now it's rated pg-13.
( desert rose, tangle of thorns )
( desert rose, tangle of thorns )
itp: tennis meta.
May. 13th, 2011 11:15 pmfeel free to comment wherever; I'll elaborate on anything. ♥
APP: Niou Masaharu // Route
Dec. 12th, 2010 06:06 pmPlayer
Name: Cassie
Livejournal Username:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
tokyocentricity
E-mail: tokyocentricity@gmail
AIM/MSN: tokyocentricity // AIM
Timezone: CST
Current Characters in Route: Sebastian Michaelis (Kuroshitsuji); Quistis Trepe (FFVIII)
Character
Name: Niou Masaharu
Series: Prince of Tennis
Timeline: Post-Nationals.
Canon Resource Links: Wiki!
Affiliation: Rocket! 8D
Personality: The most important thing to know about Niou is that what you see is by no means what you get. Niou is full of secrets and contradictions, and goes to great lengths to lie to, bewilder, confuse and hide himself from people.
On the outside, he's social, upbeat and witty with an off-beat, razor-sharp and occasionally childish sense of humour. He talks readily and at length, though not always politely, appropriately or even sensically. Everything is a joke, every moment a potential opening for some clever retort. He takes nothing too seriously, least of all himself, and he's always seeking attention in the worst ways. No sooner is one prank over than Niou's looking for the next bad decision to be made for amusement's sake.
Beneath that — and this is a part of Niou that few people are aware of or ever exposed to — Niou is highly intelligent, observant and analytical. He misses nothing, and he's always ten or twenty steps ahead of the next guy. All of his bad decisions are made with full understanding of the repercussions; he rarely acts or speaks before he thinks. Since so few people really know him, he sees himself as being essentially alone, and most of the people who consider themselves his friends are the people he considers acquaintances.
Strengths: Niou is a mathematical genius, a talent that he often applies for his own amusement — this knack for logic shines through in hobbies like speedsolving Rubik's cubes (and other puzzle cubes) and solving advanced sudoku puzzles. He's a master of disguise, able to imitate other people's body language, speech patterns, and even voices (another talent ill-applied). Over the years, he's also taught himself a number of card tricks and sleight-of-hand tricks; he's ambidextrous and has very nimble fingers, which assist him in pickpocketing, lockpicking, one-handed cube solving and cheating at numerous card games. (He's also a notorious card counter.)
Weaknesses: Kittens and cats. Niou has a marked weakness for felines. He detests going to the dentist (he'll put it off for days or weeks or months, if he can, regardless of tooth pain), and cannot cook or sing to save his life, not that it stops him from trying to do either. He's terrible at emotional confrontations; they make him uncomfortable, and he has trouble connecting with people on an emotional level. This sufficiently isolates him in a lot of respects, resulting in occasional bouts of low self-esteem and frustration.
Pokemon
Starter: Ditto, 'Sugar.'
Password: Deviled eggs! (In my family, we call them 'developed eggs,' because one of my cousins used to call them that when he was little. I actually grew up thinking they were called 'developed eggs,' up until I was, like... ten or eleven. xD;)
Samples
(Please note that both samples must take place in Route_29’s setting.)
First Person Sample: [ The audio clicks on to the sound of birds chirping and snow crunching. A bird chirps alarmingly close to the 'gear, followed by a young man's voice, mid-pitched with a lazy sort of drawl to it. ]
Talk about a change of pace. Guess I'm not complainin', though. I've got a friggin' Ditto. And this doesn't look like some dinky little hometown like Pallet or whatever, so we're off to a good start. And I have a Ditto.
... I swear to God, though, if I see that dumbass Rattata kid, I'm kickin' his ass. I'm not even kiddin'.
Did I mention the pimp-ass Ditto? Shit.
Third Person Sample: Niou awoke with a start and the unsettling feeling that he'd slept for far too long. Shit. What time was it?
Not only was there no clock on his bedside table, but there was no bedside table for the clock to be on, and this wasn't even his room. He scrambled out of bed, almost tripping on the sheets ensnaring his feet.
It wasn't a very big room, and there it was nearly barren. When he glanced around, though, his eyes caught on a nostalgically familiar red-and-white ball, balanced on top of some device on the desk.
"Is that a fucking Pokéball?" His voice echoed slightly off the bare walls.
Approaching the desk, he picked up the ball and then the device beneath it. This felt like one of those Escape the Room flash games he liked to waste time on at three in the morning. Maybe if he clicked around enough, he could find some clues as to what was going on.
And hopefully, the door wasn't locked.
It wasn't. There was a backpack on the bed, and a note nearby that looked a hell of a lot like a form letter with a photocopied signature on it. It also had a giant red R on the stationery.
Seriously? Team Rocket? This had to be some crazy-ass prank, except... who the hell would think up a prank like this? He would, that's who.
The note said to change into his uniform. Sure, Niou could play along. He changed clothes, stuffing his other ones in the bag, then grabbed the Pokéball and the device, shouldered the backpack and went to stick his head out the door. The hall was empty, but he followed it until he found stairs, which led up into a shop of some sort. The man there didn't even look twice at him.
Outside the shop was fresh air and snow, and some fat guy who tried to sell him something called a Rage Candy Bar. Niou lifted one when he wasn't looking. It tasted like manju.
Finally overcome by curiosity (and somewhat mollified that it wasn't going to explode or anything), Niou decided to toss the Pokéball.
When the light faded, an amorphous purple blob gelled itself around to look at him, blinking tiny dot eyes.
"Dit?"
Niou stared.
"No fucking way."
Name: Cassie
Livejournal Username:
tokyocentricityE-mail: tokyocentricity@gmail
AIM/MSN: tokyocentricity // AIM
Timezone: CST
Current Characters in Route: Sebastian Michaelis (Kuroshitsuji); Quistis Trepe (FFVIII)
Character
Name: Niou Masaharu
Series: Prince of Tennis
Timeline: Post-Nationals.
Canon Resource Links: Wiki!
Affiliation: Rocket! 8D
Personality: The most important thing to know about Niou is that what you see is by no means what you get. Niou is full of secrets and contradictions, and goes to great lengths to lie to, bewilder, confuse and hide himself from people.
On the outside, he's social, upbeat and witty with an off-beat, razor-sharp and occasionally childish sense of humour. He talks readily and at length, though not always politely, appropriately or even sensically. Everything is a joke, every moment a potential opening for some clever retort. He takes nothing too seriously, least of all himself, and he's always seeking attention in the worst ways. No sooner is one prank over than Niou's looking for the next bad decision to be made for amusement's sake.
Beneath that — and this is a part of Niou that few people are aware of or ever exposed to — Niou is highly intelligent, observant and analytical. He misses nothing, and he's always ten or twenty steps ahead of the next guy. All of his bad decisions are made with full understanding of the repercussions; he rarely acts or speaks before he thinks. Since so few people really know him, he sees himself as being essentially alone, and most of the people who consider themselves his friends are the people he considers acquaintances.
Strengths: Niou is a mathematical genius, a talent that he often applies for his own amusement — this knack for logic shines through in hobbies like speedsolving Rubik's cubes (and other puzzle cubes) and solving advanced sudoku puzzles. He's a master of disguise, able to imitate other people's body language, speech patterns, and even voices (another talent ill-applied). Over the years, he's also taught himself a number of card tricks and sleight-of-hand tricks; he's ambidextrous and has very nimble fingers, which assist him in pickpocketing, lockpicking, one-handed cube solving and cheating at numerous card games. (He's also a notorious card counter.)
Weaknesses: Kittens and cats. Niou has a marked weakness for felines. He detests going to the dentist (he'll put it off for days or weeks or months, if he can, regardless of tooth pain), and cannot cook or sing to save his life, not that it stops him from trying to do either. He's terrible at emotional confrontations; they make him uncomfortable, and he has trouble connecting with people on an emotional level. This sufficiently isolates him in a lot of respects, resulting in occasional bouts of low self-esteem and frustration.
Pokemon
Starter: Ditto, 'Sugar.'
Password: Deviled eggs! (In my family, we call them 'developed eggs,' because one of my cousins used to call them that when he was little. I actually grew up thinking they were called 'developed eggs,' up until I was, like... ten or eleven. xD;)
Samples
(Please note that both samples must take place in Route_29’s setting.)
First Person Sample: [ The audio clicks on to the sound of birds chirping and snow crunching. A bird chirps alarmingly close to the 'gear, followed by a young man's voice, mid-pitched with a lazy sort of drawl to it. ]
Talk about a change of pace. Guess I'm not complainin', though. I've got a friggin' Ditto. And this doesn't look like some dinky little hometown like Pallet or whatever, so we're off to a good start. And I have a Ditto.
... I swear to God, though, if I see that dumbass Rattata kid, I'm kickin' his ass. I'm not even kiddin'.
Did I mention the pimp-ass Ditto? Shit.
Third Person Sample: Niou awoke with a start and the unsettling feeling that he'd slept for far too long. Shit. What time was it?
Not only was there no clock on his bedside table, but there was no bedside table for the clock to be on, and this wasn't even his room. He scrambled out of bed, almost tripping on the sheets ensnaring his feet.
It wasn't a very big room, and there it was nearly barren. When he glanced around, though, his eyes caught on a nostalgically familiar red-and-white ball, balanced on top of some device on the desk.
"Is that a fucking Pokéball?" His voice echoed slightly off the bare walls.
Approaching the desk, he picked up the ball and then the device beneath it. This felt like one of those Escape the Room flash games he liked to waste time on at three in the morning. Maybe if he clicked around enough, he could find some clues as to what was going on.
And hopefully, the door wasn't locked.
It wasn't. There was a backpack on the bed, and a note nearby that looked a hell of a lot like a form letter with a photocopied signature on it. It also had a giant red R on the stationery.
Seriously? Team Rocket? This had to be some crazy-ass prank, except... who the hell would think up a prank like this? He would, that's who.
The note said to change into his uniform. Sure, Niou could play along. He changed clothes, stuffing his other ones in the bag, then grabbed the Pokéball and the device, shouldered the backpack and went to stick his head out the door. The hall was empty, but he followed it until he found stairs, which led up into a shop of some sort. The man there didn't even look twice at him.
Outside the shop was fresh air and snow, and some fat guy who tried to sell him something called a Rage Candy Bar. Niou lifted one when he wasn't looking. It tasted like manju.
Finally overcome by curiosity (and somewhat mollified that it wasn't going to explode or anything), Niou decided to toss the Pokéball.
When the light faded, an amorphous purple blob gelled itself around to look at him, blinking tiny dot eyes.
"Dit?"
Niou stared.
"No fucking way."
for Zess! <3
Nov. 20th, 2010 08:38 pmThere were, Syuusuke had found, benefits to dating a dentist - and not just dental benefits.
For starters, Eiji always, always had fresh breath. Kissing Eiji was minty-sweet and made Syuusuke's lips tingle, though he wasn't completely sure that had anything to do with minty freshness. Eiji wouldn't even kiss him in the mornings if they hadn't both brushed their teeth, which, while sometimes inconvenient, was an excellent motivator to keep Syuusuke from lazing in bed all day.
Besides that, there was the money. Syuusuke was no gold digger (contrary to popular rumour; some of his stints with Hyoutei in high school had not gone unnoticed), but it was nice to be taken care of. It meant he could focus on his photography as an art, not as a profession, and it meant vacations.
Like this one, to Costa Rica. Syuusuke wasn't as excited about it as he had been about France last year, but exotic was exotic, and Eiji was ecstatic. He hadn't stopped talking since they'd arrived at the airport in Tokyo.
"I can't believe we're actually standing in Costa Rica!" His grip on Syuusuke's arm wasn't quite painful yet. "Well, we're walking, but - Costa Rica!" He did a little hop as they entered the hotel lobby. "Think of how many pictures you can take! There's so much amazing stuff here! Oishi was here a couple years ago for an outreach program, and he said he loved it. They have all kinds of amazing animals and plants and and and beaches! And coral reefs and Oishi got to hold a sloth!"
Syuusuke laughed a little, ignoring the desk clerk's expression as he handed over their keycards. "I remember. He brought back pictures."
"And now we can bring back pictures! Better pictures!" Eiji practically wriggled, pulling Syuusuke along to the elevator. "Come on, we have to drop our luggage off and get out of here! There's way too much to do; we only have a week!"
A week did seem like a dismally short amount of time, when Syuusuke thought about the millions of breathtaking moments he'd want to capture on film. He let himself be dragged to the room and promptly back out again, stopping only to make sure he had a camera and at least three rolls of film on him.
Their first excursion was a small park inundated with birds - they shot from the trees as they passed, scattered through the undergrowth, soared ahead of them down the path and weighed down branches high above. Syuusuke learned to snap a photograph at just the flash of colour; they would sometimes vanish by the time he knew they were there, but he was sure the photos would develop magnificently. They must have been there an hour before one of Eiji's numerous exclamations finally broke through Syuusuke's zen.
"Monkeys!"
Syuusuke turned, camera still to his face, and took several more shots in the direction Eiji was pointing. When he pulled back from the viewfinder, he could see them more clearly - lanky, white-faced monkeys, looping lazily through the trees off the path. They stuck close together, peering, unbothered, at the humans in their midst.
Glancing over at Eiji, Syuusuke opened his mouth to say something and immediately forgot what it was. Eiji was watching them up there in the trees, eyes shining, the biggest, stupidest grin on his face, and something grabbed at Syuusuke's heart a little.
He turned the camera on Eiji and started snapping again. The viewfinder clicked over a series of moments - Eiji's smile trading in for a surprised look, and the second in which his head turned; his eyes, curious, and the smile that blossomed all over again, his eyes crinkling at the corners, when he saw the camera aimed at him.
Who would have thought, Syuusuke mused, that the biggest and brightest sights in Costa Rica would be the ones he'd brought with him from home?
For starters, Eiji always, always had fresh breath. Kissing Eiji was minty-sweet and made Syuusuke's lips tingle, though he wasn't completely sure that had anything to do with minty freshness. Eiji wouldn't even kiss him in the mornings if they hadn't both brushed their teeth, which, while sometimes inconvenient, was an excellent motivator to keep Syuusuke from lazing in bed all day.
Besides that, there was the money. Syuusuke was no gold digger (contrary to popular rumour; some of his stints with Hyoutei in high school had not gone unnoticed), but it was nice to be taken care of. It meant he could focus on his photography as an art, not as a profession, and it meant vacations.
Like this one, to Costa Rica. Syuusuke wasn't as excited about it as he had been about France last year, but exotic was exotic, and Eiji was ecstatic. He hadn't stopped talking since they'd arrived at the airport in Tokyo.
"I can't believe we're actually standing in Costa Rica!" His grip on Syuusuke's arm wasn't quite painful yet. "Well, we're walking, but - Costa Rica!" He did a little hop as they entered the hotel lobby. "Think of how many pictures you can take! There's so much amazing stuff here! Oishi was here a couple years ago for an outreach program, and he said he loved it. They have all kinds of amazing animals and plants and and and beaches! And coral reefs and Oishi got to hold a sloth!"
Syuusuke laughed a little, ignoring the desk clerk's expression as he handed over their keycards. "I remember. He brought back pictures."
"And now we can bring back pictures! Better pictures!" Eiji practically wriggled, pulling Syuusuke along to the elevator. "Come on, we have to drop our luggage off and get out of here! There's way too much to do; we only have a week!"
A week did seem like a dismally short amount of time, when Syuusuke thought about the millions of breathtaking moments he'd want to capture on film. He let himself be dragged to the room and promptly back out again, stopping only to make sure he had a camera and at least three rolls of film on him.
Their first excursion was a small park inundated with birds - they shot from the trees as they passed, scattered through the undergrowth, soared ahead of them down the path and weighed down branches high above. Syuusuke learned to snap a photograph at just the flash of colour; they would sometimes vanish by the time he knew they were there, but he was sure the photos would develop magnificently. They must have been there an hour before one of Eiji's numerous exclamations finally broke through Syuusuke's zen.
"Monkeys!"
Syuusuke turned, camera still to his face, and took several more shots in the direction Eiji was pointing. When he pulled back from the viewfinder, he could see them more clearly - lanky, white-faced monkeys, looping lazily through the trees off the path. They stuck close together, peering, unbothered, at the humans in their midst.
Glancing over at Eiji, Syuusuke opened his mouth to say something and immediately forgot what it was. Eiji was watching them up there in the trees, eyes shining, the biggest, stupidest grin on his face, and something grabbed at Syuusuke's heart a little.
He turned the camera on Eiji and started snapping again. The viewfinder clicked over a series of moments - Eiji's smile trading in for a surprised look, and the second in which his head turned; his eyes, curious, and the smile that blossomed all over again, his eyes crinkling at the corners, when he saw the camera aimed at him.
Who would have thought, Syuusuke mused, that the biggest and brightest sights in Costa Rica would be the ones he'd brought with him from home?
Hours like these were ungodly, and as far as Keigo was concerned, just shouldn't exist at all, for decency's sake. He couldn't begin to understand how Gen'ichirou was awake and presentable this early in the morning. Keigo was a (very fashionable) zombie.
He only tripped once on his way into the kitchen, and didn't bother looking around to see if anyone had noticed. No one else was awake who mattered. (Gen'ichirou didn't matter - he was clumsier than Keigo was.) Catching the doorframe with one hand, he leaned around the corner and eyed Gen'ichirou's back sleepily.
He was humming - not altogether out of tune, but badly enough to make Keigo smile a little - and fussing with something in front of him. Keigo had to guess it was a cup of coffee, since it smelled like gorgeous French roast in there. He didn't even think twice about it until Gen'ichirou swore under his breath and pulled his hand from in front of him, holding it away and over the sink.
Keigo's eyes leisurely followed the length of his statuesque arm to his fingers, at which point Keigo's jaw did the most inelegant thing, and completely without permission, too. Mouth hanging wide open, he watched as an unmistakably viscous substance dripped from Gen'ichirou's fingers.
That couldn't possibly be... but it was, wasn't it? It had to be. But there was so much of it! When Gen'ichirou sidestepped closer to the sink, Keigo had to cover his mouth. The counter was drizzled in it, too.
Was this why Gen'ichirou spent so much time in the kitchen?
Just when he thought it couldn't get any worse (read: better), Gen'ichirou put the icing on the cake (figuratively, mind). He lifted his stickied hand to his mouth and licked his fingers.
"Sandy!" There went his mouth again, doing things without permission. Gen'ichirou looked over his shoulder, startled.
"Oh, you're awake? I was going to bring you coffee." Gen'ichirou seemed to consider his hand, then something on the counter in front of him. "Come here and try this new creamer. It's... actually really good."
Keigo spent a moment trying to decide if 'creamer' was a euphemism, like his 'prowess' or Sengoku's 'good luck charm.' (He still regretted asking about that.) Slowly, he came forward, equal parts intrigued and appalled (his excellent breeding required it). Gen'ichirou held out his hand expectantly, looking for all the world like this was completely and totally in the realm of acceptable kitchen behaviour.
Euphemism or not, Keigo decided, it was nothing he'd objected to having in his mouth before. Tentatively, he leaned forward, mouth open, to taste the fluid. It was bizarrely sweet, and a little nutty. Keigo's brow knit.
"That's... delicious," he admitted, wiping a touch of it from his lip.
As he turned on his heel to start back upstairs, Yukimura vowed never to get out of bed before ten in the morning again.
He only tripped once on his way into the kitchen, and didn't bother looking around to see if anyone had noticed. No one else was awake who mattered. (Gen'ichirou didn't matter - he was clumsier than Keigo was.) Catching the doorframe with one hand, he leaned around the corner and eyed Gen'ichirou's back sleepily.
He was humming - not altogether out of tune, but badly enough to make Keigo smile a little - and fussing with something in front of him. Keigo had to guess it was a cup of coffee, since it smelled like gorgeous French roast in there. He didn't even think twice about it until Gen'ichirou swore under his breath and pulled his hand from in front of him, holding it away and over the sink.
Keigo's eyes leisurely followed the length of his statuesque arm to his fingers, at which point Keigo's jaw did the most inelegant thing, and completely without permission, too. Mouth hanging wide open, he watched as an unmistakably viscous substance dripped from Gen'ichirou's fingers.
That couldn't possibly be... but it was, wasn't it? It had to be. But there was so much of it! When Gen'ichirou sidestepped closer to the sink, Keigo had to cover his mouth. The counter was drizzled in it, too.
Was this why Gen'ichirou spent so much time in the kitchen?
Just when he thought it couldn't get any worse (read: better), Gen'ichirou put the icing on the cake (figuratively, mind). He lifted his stickied hand to his mouth and licked his fingers.
"Sandy!" There went his mouth again, doing things without permission. Gen'ichirou looked over his shoulder, startled.
"Oh, you're awake? I was going to bring you coffee." Gen'ichirou seemed to consider his hand, then something on the counter in front of him. "Come here and try this new creamer. It's... actually really good."
Keigo spent a moment trying to decide if 'creamer' was a euphemism, like his 'prowess' or Sengoku's 'good luck charm.' (He still regretted asking about that.) Slowly, he came forward, equal parts intrigued and appalled (his excellent breeding required it). Gen'ichirou held out his hand expectantly, looking for all the world like this was completely and totally in the realm of acceptable kitchen behaviour.
Euphemism or not, Keigo decided, it was nothing he'd objected to having in his mouth before. Tentatively, he leaned forward, mouth open, to taste the fluid. It was bizarrely sweet, and a little nutty. Keigo's brow knit.
"That's... delicious," he admitted, wiping a touch of it from his lip.
As he turned on his heel to start back upstairs, Yukimura vowed never to get out of bed before ten in the morning again.
