waterlight

Meme

chiaroscuro_mosaic@yahoo.com — Mon, 19 May 2008 19:06:42 GMT

Taged (sorta), by Xairon.

Comment here, and I shall...

a) Tell you why I friended you.
b) Associate you with something - fandom, a song, a color, a photo, etc
c) Tell you something I like about you.
d) Tell you a memory I have of you.
e) Ask something I've always wanted to know about you.
f) Tell you my favorite user pic of yours.
g) In return, you must post this in your LJ. (If you want. I won't hold you to it.)

chiaroscuro_mosaic@yahoo.com — Sun, 16 Mar 2008 01:28:51 GMT

This amused me far too much. Ganked from Celes_Grant

chiaroscuro_mosaic@yahoo.com — Sun, 05 Aug 2007 05:29:14 GMT

Tagged by tashi_chan.

1. I have a plush dragon guarding my monitor.
2. I must have at least one book in reach at all times.
3. The first anime that really caught my attention was Slayers.
4. One of my favorite movies is The Usual Suspects.
5. Just about every pet I've ever had has been female.
6. My first fanfic was in FMA.
7. I have never had to go to the hospital.
8. I have a B.A. in Humanities.

Tagging: Anyone who wants to play with it.

Announcement

chiaroscuro_mosaic@yahoo.com — Fri, 03 Aug 2007 21:10:51 GMT

Just a heads up, I'm Empty_Geas over on Greatest Journal as well. I've already backed up a lot of my work over there to be safe. It's more functional then pretty right now, but if LJ keeps being an idiot that'll be where I run off to.

Anyone who wants to drop a comment with their name over there is more then welcome.

Happy Birthday Hallidae!

chiaroscuro_mosaic@yahoo.com — Sun, 01 Jul 2007 07:07:56 GMT

Birthday fic for hallidae.

All's Well that Ends Well
No real warnings or spoilers.
Slight hints of Havoc/Ed if you squint.
I don't own FMA and I make no profit from this.

Havoc stared at the soggy cigarette with a sort of resigned anger, ignoring rain that was pouring down around him. It just had to be his last one. A glance up and down the darkening street confirmed that any chances he might have had to buy more were long past. He crumpled the thing in his hand, shoving it back into his pocket with a softly growled curse.

This was definitely not what he would consider one of his better birthdays. First, he'd been called in to work at the last minute. Then, he'd had Col. Mustang dump an extra load of paperwork that just had to get done ASAP on his desk before strolling out with a smirk and a pretty brunette on his arm. Now the sky had finally decided to dump all the water it had been threatening the city with all day on his last cigarette and, thanks to all the extra paperwork, he wasn't going to be able to get any more before morning. He turned up his collar and started walking again with a sigh, head bowed against the storm. At least at home he could dry off.

The apartment building at least gave him shelter from the wind and rain, though it didn't seem much warmer then the outside had been. He pulled his wet coat a little closer with a shiver as he squished his way up to the third floor and fumbled out his keys with chilled fingers.

He'd stepped inside and turned to close the door behind him before the lack of light in the apartment registered. All the blinds had been pulled down and even the little night lamp he left on in case he had to work late was off. He tensed, the shiver that slid along his spine not entirely caused by the water trickling down past his collar. His eyes scanned the dim room warily, finally detecting a faint glow past the half closed door of the tiny kitchen.

He toed off his shoes carefully, damp socks thankfully silent against the carpet as he inched down the hall. As he drew close a soft, not quite rhythmic sound reached his ears, making him pause with a faint frown. Something about the sound pulled at his memory, but try as he might he couldn't recognize it. He gave his head a little shake to move wet hair out of his eyes and knock the niggling sense of recognition loose, nudging the door the rest of the way open with a foot.

Whatever he'd been expecting, it wasn't to see a young blond alchemist slumped over his table, metal arm flung out across the wood and flesh one pillowing his head. The only light in the room was coming from a squat candle that had been propped up in one of his coffee cups. It seemed an odd way for Ed to be there, but as he moved into the room he saw why it had been lit. A small cake was sitting at the far end of the table, apparently having been pushed there to keep it out of sight of the door. Little pools of cold wax surrounded the bases of the half burned candles that ringed the cake's outer edge. A few bare spots in the frosting showed where an effort had been made to remove the wax.

Havoc scrubbed a hand across his face, blaming the water still dripping from his hair for the sudden blur in his vision. He moved over to the softly snoring blond and put a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, boss. You shouldn't sleep here."

Hazy eyes blinked open slowly, taking a long moment to focus on him before flying wide as Ed tried to leap up and half tumbled out of his seat. He winced at the thud the blond made and reached down a hand to help up the now fully awake and grumbling teen. "What are you doing here?"

"Waiting for you to get home, sure took long enough." Ed's voice was a bit annoyed as he pulled himself to his feet. His free hand waved vaguely to the cake before he stopped, suddenly seeming to recognize how wet and cold the fingers under his were. His eyes widened again as he took a step closer to Havoc, squinting in the dim glow. "Shit, you're soaked."

He shrugged as he pulled his hand free. "The storm finally broke." He was a little startled to find himself grabbed again and steered into the chair the younger man had so recently vacated.

"I'll be right back."

He heard uneven steps move away up the hall, pause, then return and stop behind him. He turned to see what Ed was doing, but his view was suddenly blocked by a fold of towel as it was rubbed over his wet hair. After a moment's hesitation he turned back around, relaxing a little under the slightly awkward attention. "You really don't need to do that, boss. I can get it." He reached up to take the towel, which Ed let go of with only minimal resistance.

Even as much as he liked the kid, he couldn't help the sudden tension in his shoulders when he heard a clap behind him and felt hands pressing against his shoulders. The sudden dryness was both a surprise and a relief, though the chill of being wet still lingered. "Ah, thanks I guess."

"Don't mention it." Edward's voice was quieter then he expected and it made him glance over as he draped the towel around his neck. The blond was fidgeting slightly, shifting from one foot to the other as he watched Havoc. "You, umm don't mind, do you? About the cake and… and me being here?"

He stood up and pressed a hand briefly to the younger man's shoulder, his smile tired but genuine. "I can honestly say it's the best thing that's happened to me all day." It almost made the whole mess worth it, the way Ed's answering smile lit up the blond's face.

"Why don't you tend to the cake and I'll make us some coffee." Nothing about the day had really changed, but right now it didn't seem quite as important. He had a chocolate cake waiting and company to share it with.

Fic

chiaroscuro_mosaic@yahoo.com — Tue, 06 Mar 2007 09:36:42 GMT

hallidae told me about a doujin she'd read whose ending really disappointed her. Thus, the following fic is entirely her fault.

Title: On the Fourth Day
Mild Ed/Havoc and implied character death.
No real spoilers.
I don't own FMA and make no profit from this.

The milk went sour three days ago. And the last of the edible food vanished yesterday. He doesn't leave though, curling up in the cold bed with torn red cloth. It should still smell like him, but it doesn't. It still smells like oil and metal and sweat, but it's flatter somehow. Spent and stale. He buries his face in the cloth anyway. He wants to wake up and find a warm body next to him, but even his nightmares have never been this cruel.

He doesn't even notice that there's someone else in the room until a hand catches his arm and rolls him over. He can only stare for a moment, thinking he must be dreaming. Praying he's just woken up. The skin is too pale though, the gold hair carrying some dark sheen he can’t name. Jean shudders as knowing purple eyes meet his, but the hand that cups his cheek is warm and almost gentle. And he shivers helplessly as he leans into its touch. He almost doesn't realize when the creature that was Edward starts to speak and it takes a full minute for the words to sink in. I just came back for what's mine, so get dressed. We're leaving.

It feels like something inside him is broken, ragged edges grinding together with each breath, but the hand is on his shoulder now and urging him up. He wants to say something. Anything, but the words tangle on his tongue. He opens his mouth, then its lips are covering his and he's clutching helplessly at the shoulders of the dark jacket it's wearing as he shakes and pours out everything that has lain numb the past four days.

It doesn't say anything else, but it kisses him again and brushes at his tears with the tips of callused fingers, raising salty drops to its lips. This time, when it wraps an arm around his waist, he lets it lead him away.

chiaroscuro_mosaic@yahoo.com — Tue, 20 Feb 2007 07:31:07 GMT

Stolen from slaveofmydreams

YOU'RE ON MY FRIENDS LIST, I WANNA KNOW YOU...I want to know 33 things about you. I don't care if we never talk, never liked each other, or if we already know everything about each other. Short and sweet is fine...You're on my list, so I wanna know you better! =)

1. Can you cook?

2. What was your dream growing up?

3. What talent do you wish you had?

4. Favorite place?

5. Favorite vegetable?

6. What was the last book you read?

7. What zodiac sign are you?

8. Any Tattoos and/or Piercings?

9. Worst Habit?

10. Do we know each other outside of LiveJournal?

11. What is your favorite sport?

12. Negative or Optimistic attitude?

13. What would you do if you were stuck in an elevator with me?

14. Worst thing to ever happen to you?

15. Tell me one weird fact about you:

16. Do have any pets?

17. Do u know how to do the macerana?

18. What time is it where u are now?

19. Do you think clowns are cute or scary?

20. If you could change one thing about how you look, what would it be???

21. Would you be my crime partner or my conscience?

22. What color eyes do you have?

23. Ever been arrested?

24. Bottle or Draft?

25. If you won $10,000 dollars today, what would you do with it?

26. What kind of bubble gum do you prefer to chew?

27. What 's your favorite bar to hang at?

28. Do you believe in ghosts?

29. Favorite thing to do in your spare time?

30. Do you swear a lot?

31. Biggest pet peeve?

32. In one word, how would you describe yourself?

33. Will you repost this so I can fill it out and do the same for you?

chiaroscuro_mosaic@yahoo.com — Sat, 17 Feb 2007 05:44:26 GMT

Ganked from icedark_elf.

True Neutral
50% Good, 44% Chaotic

Plane of Existence: The Outlands, "Plane of Concordant Opposition". Description: The plane between all other outer planes.

Examples of True Neutrals (Ethically Neutral, Morally Neutral)

Red XIII, "Nanaki" (FFVII)
Vincent Valentine (FFVII)
Cid Highwind (FFVII)
Mr. Spock
Linus Torvalds
Dr. Strangelove
Scott Evil
Batman
The Punisher
Switzerland
Canada

Not actively for or against anything. Has his or her own reasons for doing everything. Usually difficult to understand.

Will keep their word if in their best interest
May attack an unarmed foe
May use poison
May help those in need
May work with others
Indifferent to higher authority
Indifferent to organizations

True Neutral "Pure Neutral"
"Balancer"

Some neutral [people] commit themselves philosophically to neutrality. They are of the true neutral alignment as described in Advanced Dungeons & Dragons.

A true neutral [person] sees good, evil, law, and chaos as prejudices and dangerous extremes. He advocates the middle way of neutrality as the best, most balanced road in the long run.

Some true neutral [people] actively support balance in the world, and seek to avoid having any one side, law or chaos, good or evil, become too powerful over them or anyone else, and will work against whichever side is the most powerful. They tend to side with the underdog in any situation, and are often opportunistic in their actions.

True neutral is committed to the avoidance of extremes, and is non-judgemental.

Side-Note from Xan81:
Due to your Neutrality, I would really, really LOVE your feedback. Not that I don't want feedback from members of the other alignments, but a True Neutral's feeback is typically NOT emotionally, morally, politically, or socially charged. Please send me an email! I have it set to automatically email me when someone gets this score, so I know who you are ;) True Neutrals are the classic, "I just don't give a shit" alignment, and I fully understand if you don't feel that you have any responsability or obligation to sending an email/comment. Even if you did, I'm sure you'd have some difficulty in deciding what to comment about. But, I guess that depends on your tendencies :D
Xan

Other Alignments and Tendencies (Tendenices are what you would more often sway towards; esp. for Neutrals):
0-39% Good, 0-39% Chaotic:Lawful-Evil
0-39% Good, 40-60% Chaotic: Neutral-Evil
0-39% Good, 61-100% Chaotic: Chaotic-Evil
40-60% Good, 0-39% Chaotic: Lawful-Neutral
40-60% Good, 61-100% Chaotic: Chaotic-Neutral
61-100% Good, 0-39% Chaotic: Lawful-Good
61-100% Good, 40-60% Chaotic: Neutral-Good
61-100% Good, 61-100% Chaotic: Chaotic-Good

My test tracked 2 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender:

You scored higher than 99% on Good

You scored higher than 99% on Chaotic

Link: The Alignment Test written by xan81 on OkCupid Free Online Dating, home of the The Dating Persona Test

Icon meme

chiaroscuro_mosaic@yahoo.com — Sun, 21 Jan 2007 08:19:14 GMT

Snagged from tashi_chan

Reply to this post, and I will tell you my favorite icon of yours. Then post this to your own journal using your own favorite icon.

fic

chiaroscuro_mosaic@yahoo.com — Tue, 02 Jan 2007 09:52:33 GMT

No Antidote for This
877 words
HP/FMA crossover
Set after Half Blood Prince, so spoilers through there. No real FMA spoilers.
I don't own either HP or FMA and I make no money from this.

Sequel to The Price of a Bottle.

Credit and blame for this idea goes to slaveofmydreams.

Cross posted to fullservicefma and fm_alchemist.

Pain was what woke him, that and the truly foul taste in his mouth. Severus groaned as he lifted his aching head from his arms and reached back blearily to work at the crick in his neck. What on earth had possessed him to fall asleep over a table? His upper lips curled with disdain as he met mild resistance to lifting one arm from the tabletop. A none too sanitary table at that.

His effort to free the other arm from its night long resting place brought a different sort of pain, a searing bone deep throbbing. He brought his arm to his chest with a hiss, cradling the marked limb gingerly out of habit. Severus couldn't take his eyes off the one thing he hadn't been expecting though. The pool of dried blood that hade been helping spilled alcohol glue his arm to the table. The bottom of his sleeve was stiff with it.

He let go of his arm to stare at the rusty flakes that had transferred themselves to his fingers. More blood on his hands. His fingers tightened into a sudden fist. His own blood. A scowl twisted pale features as he cast his mind back into the blurred haze of last night.

There had been alcohol and then more alcohol. After Greed had made an offer or what had sounded like one. The question had been odd though. His brows drew down. And the man hadn't given him an answer of any sort that he could recall. It couldn't have been an offer, they'd never decided or agreed on anything. He glanced back down to the bloodstain. And yet something serious had obviously happened.

He let his eyes slide closed, the dim light beating against his eyelids in time with the pounding in his head. He was a wizard, a potions master and a trained in the arts of the mind. He would find the memory.

There had been touches, eventually. Fingers on his wrist, a hand on his shoulder or running down his arm. Unexpected and unwelcome, but nothing worrying at the time. Though he suspected he had consumed far too much of what had been put in front of him by that point to recognize the strangeness of being touched. It hadn't stopped there though, had it? No, an arm around his shoulders, a hand under his raising another glass to his lips as the other man asked…. Asked?

He could almost here tone again as he brought the memories forward. Low tones, soothing as one might use on a wounded beast or a reluctant lover. The words had been soft and oddly smooth. Suspiciously so, now that he could think. Relaxing and almost compelling as they came to his ears on slight rushes of warm brandy scented air. Asking… asking far too much Greed shouldn’t have.

He pushed a little more at the haze that made the memories increasingly harder to access. There was something else here. Something that this must have been leading up to.

A hand wrapping more firmly around his wrist, pinning it to the table.

Black eyes snapped open, smoldering with something unnamable. A knock on the door and the entrance of a blond woman prevented him from verifying his suspicions.

The blond studied him coolly for a moment before jerking her head her head back toward the hall. "The boss has decided you could do with a room. I'll show you where it is."

Her eyes were vividly green and he found himself looking away from her gaze far sooner then he would have liked. There was no real point to lingering here though, so he rose and followed her slowly into the hall. It was brighter then the room had been and the ache in his head almost distracted him enough that he nearly missed the wrongness of the way she moved, gate too smooth and measured in some tempo other then the steady tramp of marching feet.

They passed an open door and the man taking inventory inside glanced up from his clipboard with a thin smile. He met the predatory yellow eyes with as chill a look as he could muster, but didn't stop moving. The idea of loosing sight of his guide and slipping away suddenly much less appealing.
There was another man sitting on the stairs, mending a shirt with needle and thread. His look was more curious, though Severus was almost sure the man had lifted his head and sniffed the air as they'd moved passed. A chill squirmed down his spine and he'd been walking almost on the woman's heels after that, which she'd seemed to ignore.

The room she leads him too is spares and has definitely seen better days, but it has a lock and privacy. It will do for now. He settled on the edge of the bed, frowning at the creak of rusty springs, and gingerly rolled back his bloodied sleeve.

He stared at the mark there of a long time. The marks there, he corrected himself numbly. Three ragged parallel wounds ran through the tattoo of the dark mark. Claw wounds, already scabbing over. He shuddered slightly as Greed's last words came back to him. I promise you they'll scar.

chiaroscuro_mosaic@yahoo.com — Mon, 25 Dec 2006 22:36:39 GMT

Merry Christmas/Joyful Yule/Happy Winter Holiday of Your Choice to everyone on my f-list!

I know I don't talk much with everyone on here, but I do like all of you and admire the fic/art/poetry you create and I just want to wish everyone the best holiday season possible.

Grimm is open!

chiaroscuro_mosaic@yahoo.com — Fri, 15 Dec 2006 06:31:36 GMT

landofgrimm is now open for players.

To celebrate I've got a little drabble.
Again all credit for the inspiration goes to slaveofmydreams.

Sacrifice
PG-13
No real spoilers.
I own nothing and make no money off this.
Set directly after Dead Ringers.
A queen must respect the traditions of her predecessors. She must also rid herself of weaknesses.

Now, who are you to go wrecking a…. Oh.

Sarah. I… truly had not expected to see you. I….

Of course.

Forgive my poor memory, majesty.

Yes, I couldn't miss the favor you were so kind to bestow on me. I nearly stepped in it.

I see.

No. It is an honor. Truly.

Give me a moment, Sarah. I'm quite a bit larger then once I was.

It doesn't matter any more. Here, let me bend down to you. Like I once did. You have it?

I don't doubt you can, but even though we all changed I stil…. *snicker-snack*

chiaroscuro_mosaic@yahoo.com — Wed, 06 Dec 2006 06:17:02 GMT

Fan fiction for landofgrimm. Again all credit for the inspiration goes to slaveofmydreams.

Tea Time
PG-13
No real spoilers.
I own nothing and make no money off this.
Despite all, some things never do really change.

Why hello, my dear, Why don't you come and join us? Sit down and have a cup of tea.

Ah. Not there. Not there. Move down, please. Move down! Move down!

There. Much better. Now, would you care for some more tea?

Oh, well. I suppose you can't very well have more tea if you haven't had any yet. Perhaps some jam?

It really has been too long since, you've stopped by for a visit, my dear. Why, we had almost given up hope.

Oh, but you have, my dear. A great number of times. Well, She has, to be precise, but you're Her and She's you. So it all makes perfect sense.

What, you thought you were the first?

Oh, Heavens no! There are ever so many young girls that have started just as you are. Why the great queen herself once wore that mantle. You should feel honored! There was even some talk of retiring it, after the advent of the queen. Though it seems they haven't, since here you are. Move down, please. Move down! Move down!

Oh, but here I am forgetting myself. Have you heard the news?

Oh, but you simply must. It's fantastic news really. The Queen is going to have a ball! Isn't that simply marvelous? Why, it will be the biggest event since my last un-birthday.

Ah, those were the days. Why, the queen would even attend on occasion. Not that anyone else really showed up for those particular ones, but it's a great honor to have royalty attend one's un-birthday.

She's looking for a new consort, of course. Move down, please. Move down! Move… Oh no, skip that place, my dear. That's His seat. Oh, you don't want to hear about him. No one ever really does. It spoils things. Now, where was I? Oh, that's right. MOVE DOWN!

The old one? Oh, well. He had a bit of a temper and one day he just sort of… lost his head. Quite the mess as I understand it, but I don't think it really surprised anyone. No. No.

Me compete? Oh, now don't be ridiculous, my dear. Take the March Hare over there though. He's been to the Queen's balls before. He even made it to the finals one year, don't you know?

Oh, that? Think nothing of it, my dear. Nothing a little patchwork can't fix. I say, could you pass me glue there? And the honey?

Well, how rude. Did you see that?

She just up and left. Not even a by your leave or a thank you for the tea. And so noisy. Who is picking the roles theses days?

Oh really? Well. I suppose he would know, wouldn't he?

Oh, dear yes the glue! And the honey! Lot's of honey!

There you go, right as rain again in no time. Would you care for some more tea?

Oh, yes. We should rather give that time to set, shouldn't we? Just half a cup.

Spun Glass
PG-13
No real spoilers.
I own nothing and make no money off this.
For every story, there must be someone to tell it.

He looked down into a clear pool and watched the ripples vanish one by one like startled minnows until the surface was still and smooth as glass. It reflected everything perfectly, from the whole of the sky and the slender, green grace of the trees surrounding the glade to the delicate nodding of the bright flowers that bordered the pool. He leaned out over the pool and peered closer and in the glass smooth reflection nothing moved. Not a cloud or leaf or a single delicate petal. The wind nearly blew His hat off and into the reflecting pond, but one hand caught it tight against His curls. Darkly painted lips curved up in a smile that, on other features, might have been sweet and sad. Wistful. He dipped His hand into the reflection and watched it pull away with His fingers, clinging like molten glass.

Humming a little under His breath he kneaded and molded the liquid mass in His hands until it took the form of a delicate pair of slippers. Pure spun glass that reflected all the colors of the woods and sky and blossoms.

He brought the shoes up to His mouth, dark paint leaving delicate smudges on them as he murmured. "There is nothing quite so fulfilling as to see a well filled role played out to its inevitable conclusion. You will be no different. But I will let you think differently, because the story needs you. I have no name, because I have no story, but all stories are mine. Now go. Find her, bring her here. The stories are hungry with waiting."

Released from His hands the glass slippers shimmer a moment, absorbing the dark smudges into themselves and gleaming even more brightly as they vanished in search of the foot that would fit them.

Fic

chiaroscuro_mosaic@yahoo.com — Fri, 01 Dec 2006 06:33:04 GMT

Dead Ringers
Set in the Grimm universe that slaveofmydreams
set up.
PG-13
Makes reference to a number of fairytales and stories of which I own none.
Kudos to you if you recognize them all.

Did no one ever tell you it's rude to come into someone's house without asking? Not to mention unwise. You never know what you might stumble on.

Oh, you were looking for something, were you?

For geese? How very odd.

Yes, yes. I can see you found them.

And yes, I do mind the way you're staring. But it's been a while since I had company, so I'll overlook it.

The last one? Oh, he was a boy like you.

Looking for something, of course. The shivers, I think it was. And new enough here not to get the rules yet.

Why, I invited him to stay for dinner and he was kind enough to oblige me. What did you expect me to say?

No, I don't really suppose it surprises me that you immediately jump to that conclusion, but it's hardly wise of you to say it, now is it? What if it isn't true? Or more importantly, what if it is?

There's that look again. I really do wish you wouldn't.

I'll tell you what. How about I help you out? Give you a bit of free information about this place?

Oh, but I insist. It's terribly bad manners to refuse a gift. Ever so much worse then barging in uninvited.

Now, how best to start this? And will you stay still or must I come over there?

Fine. Have it your way, but don't say I didn't try.

Yes, this will do nicely. All comfy now?

That really isn't a good look for you, you know. The moon below the waves had more color to her. Paleness just doesn't suit. But let's move along with things.

There's a certain phrase they use in horse racing, when one horse is substituted for another that looks similar in order to cheat the odds. A dead ringer, they call it. I'm sure you're wondering what this has to do with anything, so let me enlighten you.

No, I don't think I'll let you wander off on me just yet. I like having a captive audience, young man. Indulge me a bit before I decide you'd do better as another sort of captive.

That's better. Now, where was I?

Oh yes, dead ringers. It fits them perfectly, don't you see?

You don't? Oh my, you must be even newer then I thought. I'm talking about Them. All those pretty blond girls in their pale dresses. You must know the lot. Dorothy. Gretel. Alice.

I see that last name finally caught your attention. In fact I do believe you're more terrified now then when you first laid eyes on me. How amusing.

Yes, I know that no one calls her that any more. It's all your majesty this or your queenship that. The Bloody Queen of Hearts. She has such a taste for the dramatic, but then she always did. Even when her name was Sarah.

Forgive me, I'm digressing. You still don't see the connection do you?

Stop and think about it. Everything in the land of Grimm is about substitutions. It's how you end up here. Not everyone really fits though. Stories change. People change. It's part of what keeps things running. But some don't change, they fit too well. Dead ringers. Exact duplicates. At least on the surface.

Now are you starting to get it? All theses chits. These tiny girls who drop into the roles. They look right. Helpless and innocent, but the look is where it ends. Gretel with her sweet smile and unforgiving arms standing just outside the closed oven door, ear pressed close to catch every sound. Dorothy, flinging water and houses as if they were coins at a coronation parade. And Alice. Sweet, darling Alice. Courted by the mad. Who consorted with the Cheshire himself and emerged whole and unbroken. Regicide. Our own bloody queen of hearts and heads.

They are the true terror of this place. No big bad wolf or towering giant can compare and well they know it.
We know our limits and how thin our grace runs. Know just how hard we must fight simply to survive our stories.

And it appears that I must leave you now. I can here the snicker-snack of a vorpral sword wrecking yet another of my doors.

Yes, boy. Take your geese and go. Grimm alone knows if there will be anyone left to finish your education in an hour's time.

chiaroscuro_mosaic@yahoo.com — Fri, 10 Nov 2006 04:26:08 GMT

The Price of a Bottle
979 words
HP/FMA crossover
Set after Half Blood Prince, so spoilers through there. No real FMA spoilers.
I don't own either HP or FMA and I make no money from this.

Credit and blame for this idea goes to slaveofmydreams.

Cross posted to fullservicefma and fm_alchemist.

He wasn't sure exactly where he was, simply that he was as far as port key, apparition and broom could take him in the two days since he'd left Hogwarts. The tavern he'd stopped at wasn't a wizarding one, but the patrons hadn't given more then a long glance to his dark cloak and pulled up hood before returning to their drinks, so he supposed it would have to do.

The bartender was a different matter though. Severus could feel the weight of his interest, though he could not see the dark haired man's eyes behind the almost old fashioned pair of glasses that was perched on his nose. He frowned slightly, drawing his robes a bit closer as he met the hidden gaze. The man looked nothing like a wizard, and certainly not an auror, in his fur and leather. Besides there should be no way for anyone to have caught up with him yet.

His attention seemed to have been some sort of signal though, because the man was moving toward him. He slipped a hand into the hidden pocket that held his wand as the bartender's rangy form moved around the end of the bar to stop right next to him, so close even that the water dripping from his cloak was landing on the pointed toes of the stranger's boots. He'd never been fond of having his personal space invaded and certainly not at a time like this. He mustered his best glare, spine stiffening when the man just grinned.

"It's been quite a while since I've seen one of your kind around, even with all the to do a few years back. Come into the back and have a drink with me, hmm? Share a bit of the latest news. I've got some proper stuff a wizard should appreciate."

The words were enough to make him freeze for an instant, this would not have been the sort of recognition he was expecting, if he had been expecting any at all. The shock was enough that when a red tattooed hand fell on his shoulder he had only enough time to give the mark a wary glance before he was being firmly escorted through a door behind the bar.

An hour later, he was staring at a half full bottle of absinth and two empty glasses, trying to dredge another bit of relatively innocent news out of his memory to feed the stranger, who was resting both elbows on the tiny table between them and leaning forward as avidly as a niffler on the scent of treasure. It was all rather disturbing, after the events of the past few weeks. Not the least of it being the way the man's eyes , still damnably invisible behind their shields of smoked glass, never seemed to move off him for any longer then was needed to refill his glass. Which he seemed to have done again while Severus's mind was wandering.

He really should be gone by now, from this room if not from the tavern altogether. He set the glass back down and placed his hands on the table to push to his feet. Hard fingers closed around his wrist before he could get a step away from the table, pinning his wand hand in place. The red oroborus on the man's hand was tugging at something in the back of his mind, but he couldn't figure out what.

"Don't go just yet. I know there's more to it then that. Just one more hour of your time. It's not much to ask, is it? It's been so long since I've had news."

The other's smile was too close and too wide to be comfortable as he was tugged back into his seat. A large hand pushed the new glass into his loose grip and he closed fingers around it by reflex.

It was nearly two hours later when he had a moment to stop and try and catch his mental feet against the seemingly endless tide of recollections and questions. There was a second bottle open now, some sort of wine that was too rich and too sweet, utterly unfamiliar on his tongue. His glass was already half empty when he looked at it. And he had a deep suspicion that somewhere between the end of the last bottle and the beginning of this one he had said far too much.

The hand on his shoulder made him jump, reaching instinctively for a wand he doubted he was in much shape to use. The bartender caught his hand in a deceptively loose grip before he could even get it to his robe and from this close he could almost see through the glass. There was something wrong with the man's eyes.

"It seems like you've backed yourself into an interesting predicament there, Severus. What would you be willing to give? To get out of this."

The offer is too familiar, even if the low purr it's delivered in is entirely wrong. If the hand on his shoulder is entirely too warm and too strong to belong to an aging wizard. And suddenly he can’t quite catch his breath and the alcohol in his blood still isn’t enough to blunt the raw edges of everything. Dumbledore is dead and there is no going back. Not to Hogwarts and not to the Order. And Voldemort grows madder by the day.

His fingers aren’t quite steady as he reaches out to pull the glasses off the other's face. Slit pupiled purple looks back at him steadily. At least, Severus thinks, his eyes aren't red. He lets the glasses drop to the table and drains his glass to the dregs. When he speaks, his has himself enough in hand to pretend his voice is entirely steady. "What are you offering?"

Greed just smiles wider and pours him another drink.

chiaroscuro_mosaic@yahoo.com — Thu, 05 Oct 2006 01:35:32 GMT

Because xiaron and hallidae got me curious.

I am worth $1,646,570 on HumanForSale.com

Gay Rights

chiaroscuro_mosaic@yahoo.com — Thu, 05 Oct 2006 01:32:38 GMT

((Snagged from celes_grant.))

"Why is it that, as a culture, we are more comfortable seeing two men holding guns than holding hands?" - Ernest Gaines

Wewould like to know who really believes in gay rights onlivejournal.There is no bribe or a miracle or anything like that. Ifyou truly believe in gay rights, then repost this and title the post as"Gay Rights". If you don't believe in gay rights, then just ignorethis. Thanks.

fic post

chiaroscuro_mosaic@yahoo.com — Wed, 27 Sep 2006 08:16:27 GMT

Cat's Cradle.
A short bit of Bido introspective fic.
Only a few spoilers if you don't know about the chimeras yet.
I don't own FMA and make no profit from this.
Cross-posted to fma_chimeras

Over the thumb.
Around the third finger and…
…under the second strand from the right.
Or was it the forth from the left?

Bido sighed as he looked at the half tangled mess of string between his fingers. He should be able to do this. He knew he should be able to do this. He began the long, careful process of untangling the twists and knots, fingers sliding over each length of string to test for places it might catch or unravel. If he closed his eyes, he could almost remember what it felt like.

…larger hands cradling his, long and knotted fingers brushing against his own with the familiar scrape of calluses. Her hands had always felt just slightly too cool, terribly thin for all their strength…

A knot caught and stopped his motions, bringing his eyes back open with a start as the scrap of memory slipped away. He began to pick at the too tight threads with the tips of his nails, glad his hands had retained all the limberness he thought they should have. He doubted he could have managed even this much if they had not.

The others believed he didn’t remember much of anything from the time before the labs. And in a way they were right. In another way though, they couldn’t have been more wrong. It was all there. It had to be. He refused to believe that thirty odd years of his life had simply vanished. It was there… but he couldn't get to it. Threads of memories that had once, he could only assume, been spooled up neatly and flowing one into another in orderly succession were torn and tangled. Mixed in with others that he could barely interpret, odd mixtures of scent, vibration and taste.

He worked the knot loose and resumed his attempt to return the string to a somewhat pristine state. It was a hobby of his, he could tell any of the others that asked. Not that many asked anymore. Martel had offered to teach him a better way to do it, once. Dorchette had offered more then once, confused by his constant failures and his refusal to change any part of the child's game.

The alchemist had only watched him briefly, then laughed and walked off. But then, he was interested only in things whole enough to break.

The threads moved smoothly between his fingers again, unwinding more easily now. He was getting to be an expert at untangling. A hundred and more failures. Perhaps his fingers were even more nimble now that his mind was so much less so or maybe one needed the other and he was only learning to make up what was lost. Still, it came easier then it once had.

Twist here. Slide the string over and to the left to free up more of its length. He could almost remember a scent. Dye and musty cloth. A hint of harsh soap and the oil she had to put on her hands in winter. If he looked up, he would see brown hair threaded with white.

His fingers stumbled again and he sighed, pausing to work over another knot. With each failure, he got a little better at untangling. He might never finish his game and make the strings take the shape he wanted them to have. But maybe someday, he'd be able to untangle the shape of her face. Smooth out the sound of her name.

I live.... with fic

chiaroscuro_mosaic@yahoo.com — Tue, 23 May 2006 07:14:31 GMT

I did the original drabble for swordage a while ago and it got out of hand and spawned this set. Which I also blame on her.

I don't own FMA and make no money from this.
Focuses on the Nest crew.
Warning for not too specific violence and general unpleasantness.

Comfort Food

They've all been avoiding the alchemist lately, all but him. The bottle of alcohol exploded in fire and molten glass as it impact the wall. The chocolate was smeared across the floor in a melting mess. Kimbley was almost trembling, face flushed and pale by turns, pointing to the door with a choked, incoherent growl.

Greed sighed as he used claw tips to pick glass fragments out of his cheek. "It was just a suggestion. What am I supposed to know about PMS?" Still, he supposed this explained the little smirk Martel had worn as she explained to it him.

Bitter Fruit

Martel had always hated her time of the month. Even before it always left her feeling achy and vulnerable and far too cold. It only got worse in the cages, though she doesn't understand why. Because reptiles didn't menstruate, did they? She'd been enjoying the heat of the sun, stretched out on the roof, until a shadow devoured it. Expecting Greed, she didn't bother to open her eyes. "How'd it go?"

"As well as could be expected."

The dry anticipation in Kimbley's voice has her reaching for a knife even before her eyes can snap open. She's still too late.

Bland Fare

They're too trusting. These people who aren't. Far too trusting, knowing who he is. And Greed isn't even the worst of them. The little gecko-like one actually smiles when he sees Kimbley coming, blind or just stupid. He's smart enough to flinch though, when marked hands slide along his tail. He can see the creature swallowing hard and feel the muscles jerk and tremble in his tightened grip.

He doesn't look at the gratitude on its face when he lets go a few seconds later. It would taint the wet rumble and sweet smoke that follow him from the room.

A Little Spice

Dorchette and Law are behind the bar when Kimbley finds them, cleaning up by the look of things. He can feel his lip curling. Such a blindly loyalty and eagerness to work and please. It's a pitiful existence, one in need of something more. The sentiment passes quickly though as he stares at the bottles behind the bar. He runs a hand over them as he moves around the bar, selecting one from the end of the row. He feels the chimeras' gazes burning into him as he leaves, but not for long. The wind at his back is hot.

Sour Grapes

He was sitting at the bar when Greed caught up with him, blood, ash, and broken glass littering the area around him. He studied an intact bottle of something expensive Greed had picked up, then just let it drop to shatter at the sin's feet.

"Why?" He doesn't say anything as he takes in the look of helpless hurt and simmering anger on Greed's face. He doesn't need to. He still can't help a little startelment as the sin slams him into the bar and he feels ribs crack.

He can taste blood when he finally speaks. "Because I could."

Sugar Coated

Dorchette frowned as he stared at the unconscious alchemist then glanced over at Law. "Why did the boss insist we watch him again? I know Martel's burns weren't that bad, but …."

Law gave a deep sigh and didn't lower his book. "He doesn't know how long the drug will keep him under, so we need to watch him."

Dorchette scowled and turned his eyes back toward the alchemist, half-baring his fangs at the little smirk on the man's sleeping face. "He should have done something more permanent, that bastard would take us all down if he had the chance."

Bitter Dregs

He can feel the weakness before he manages to crack his eyes open, the hand he raises to his aching head is trembling visibly. He stares blankly at it until Greed enters his line of vision. He scowls at the sin, then whimpers when the homunculus is suddenly on top of him. Greed's voice is harsh. "We need to have a long talk about proper behavior."

Kimbley can barely stagger to the shower after Greed leaves. He refuses to look back at the bright crimson blood stain slowly browning on his sheets, tries to ignore the pain between his legs.

Birthday fic

chiaroscuro_mosaic@yahoo.com — Thu, 09 Feb 2006 05:08:22 GMT

In honor of forgottenlover's birthday I finally finished the last two parts of Something to Keep, the 5th and hopefully final story in the Deception Arc.

Something to Keep
AU. Mild spoilers for end of series.
Some swearing.
I don't own anything and make no money from this.
Summery: How far will a person go to get back something of value? Envy indulges in the family weakness.

Part 1

Something to Keep (part 2)

The house is dark and quiet when he arrives, but it does not matter. He forces a window on an upper story and makes his way to Daniel's bedroom. The man will not think anything of his presence in the locked house, the flesh-warm key he pressed into the sin's cool hand months ago has seen to that.

The door is silent as he presses it open and pads into the room, borrowed, amber eyed boy-skin rippling back into place as he surveys the rumpled bed and the lean figure sleeping there. Moonlight further whitens the pale skin of leanly muscled arms and long, clever fingers to gives his mind an anticipatory glimpse of what he has been working so long to complete.

Finding the man was one of the hardest parts, because everything has to fit and blend together as seamlessly as possible. He will have no mismatching in his masterwork, no unsightliness. It will be beautiful and perfect and better then anyone else has ever managed. Of course, once he found Daniel, the rest was almost ridiculously easy.

He spends a last moment admiring the form sprawled out on the covers before gliding up to settle himself on the bed. He has everything else he needs and the rest of the night and the whole of the following day before he can show up at the old alchemist's house to reap the rewards of the forbidden knowledge he has cast at the man's foolishly eager feet. He leans in and runs a light finger over the curve of one faintly rough cheek just to see grey eyes snap open, flaring in sleepy alarm for a moment before softening in warm welcome. It really has been too easy.

The initial meeting was easy enough to arrange. A social function the man seemed bored to appear at, a casual stumble almost right in front of him and an apology followed by an exchange of names. A faintly flustered admission that, yes, he was related to those Elrics, if only as a cousin. It had been all the sin could do to repress a shiver of delight at the way those eyes had burned at him, just for an instant, before manners had reasserted themselves. The man had invited him to stay and talk; had, naturally, expressed an interest in whether his new acquaintance shared the notorious Elric talent for alchemy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

From a distance the young alchemist isn't much too look at, sandy blond hair and eyes the unappealing grey of dirty ice behind utilitarian spectacles. Under closer inspection, however, his narrow frame is lean with muscle, long arms end in fine, precise hands, and there is a fire behind his eyes as he speaks of the art. He is the most promising candidate Envy has seen in years of searching and the sin wants a much, much closer look at him.

It isn't hard. He lets his ankle turn just the wrong way as he moves past the man's position, feels the weightless little split second of freefall before thin fingers are closing hard on his shoulders and hauling him none too gently back to his feet. The eyes that meet his are disdainfully cool, annoyed and uninterested. He has to clamp down on his temper because no one is allowed to look at him like that, but he can deal with this. He can change that look easily enough if he holds his temper and plays his part as he has planned.

He steadies himself carefully as the hands release him, lowering his head with a small flush. "I'm terribly sorry, sir. It seems I've been spending far too much time at my studies if I'm starting to forget how to walk without a book held up in front of me." He raises his head shyly to look at the man out of falsely golden eyes and holds out his hand. "But, I'm forgetting my manners. I'm Nathaniel Elric."

He can watch the name he is using run through the man like a shock and that is one more reason to hate him, but he presses forward because he wants to do this and won't it be a perfect revenge if he does choose the man. Contrived for the plan as he knows the situation is, he feels a thrill at the new way the man looks at him. At the spark of interest and almost hunger that begins to smolder behind the pale eyes as the man gives him a thin smile and shakes his hand. "Daniel Korbin, pleased to meet you. Perhaps you'd care to stay and talk for a bit? I'm always interested in a chance to speak with a fellow scholar."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Than?" Daniel's voice is also warm, thick and rich with sleep, as his thin lips curve up slowly in pleasure. "Where've you been? I've missed you."

Envy lets the long arms reach out for him, even leans into them a little as the man sits up. "I've been working on a commission. It was a very tight deadline, but it's almost finished now." He runs a hand down one bare arm. His other has delves into his pocket.

Daniel blinks a little more awake at the news, giving him a look of interest as he brushes a kiss over Envy's cheek, another over his lips. "Really? Anything interesting?"

"You could say that." There is a faint smile on the sin's lips as he draws the small syringe from his pocket, keeping it hidden in his palm. This will be a good time, will make up for so much he has gone through to test and maintain his hold on the man. He can taste the impatience in Daniel's posture now, knows how the man hates it when his answers are teasing or vague. Now, he can afford not to care.

Envy lets his smile widen a little as he dangles his next words before the man, just to watch the hunger rise in his eyes. To watch them burn for his false self one last time. "What is my family known for?"

He waits until the man has pulled back a faint bit to stare at him with sharp interest lighting his face. Feels pale hands slide back up to grip his shoulders hard with thin fingers before he lets his hand move. His thumb flicks the cap off in a practiced motion as he slides the needle home into Daniel's thigh and depresses the plunger.

There is a second before the distracted man notices the sting, another few he spends just staring at Envy in wide-eyed shock. They are more then long enough and he is withdrawing the needle and tossing it aside before the man has even begun to move.

He stays seated calmly on the bed as Daniel jerks back from him and gets to his feet. Still just watches with a faint smirk as the man first glares, then looks alarmed as his legs tremble and give beneath him. It is only then that Envy rises to catch him. It pleases him to feel the lean muscles tremble and jerk and finally go slack under his hands as he tumbles the man across the rumpled covers in a boneless sprawl.

Daniel's body is almost completely slack as Envy arranges its limbs to suit him, but the man's eyes are frightened and furious and very aware of his own helplessness. Envy just has to step back and admire him for a moment. It is a good look for the man, one he has never gotten to see before. One he will have until this evening to enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Envy is a little excited as they make their way back to Daniel's house. This is the first time the man has invited him back, the first time they will be together somewhere that isn't public and he can feel his hold on the other growing as he slides further into his confidences and further into his life.

Daniel's arm around his waist is warm and firm as Envy allows himself to be lead inside and coaxed up the stairs. He can see the faint flush in the man's cheeks from the drinks they were talking over and the interest in his eyes seems sharper then usual.

Envy knows what is coming when they get to the bedroom, but the kiss still takes him slightly by surprise. The man's mouth is hotter and more demanding then he expected somehow, and the fingers on his shoulders are bruising tight as Daniel drags him fiercely close against his body. Envy is moaning into his mouth before he can stop himself, hands fisting loosely in the man's jacket. It only gets worse from there.

Daniel's hands are equally hard as they strip him bare and pin him to the bed, if he were mortal he would be bruising from this. And he can't fight back. He can't fight back without breaking his role and loosing all the work he has been putting into this. He shudders and closes his eyes when teeth find the hollow of his throat, moans again when slick digits find their way between his legs and long fingers pin his wrists above his head.

It shouldn't feel this good, to know he has bound his own hands and can't do anything but submit to this. He waits to hear how good he looks spread and covered like this, how pleased his lover is to be allowed to do this too him. He is a little startled to find his breathing is already ragged when he cracks his eyes open to see why the lean weight has lifted partially off him. A spike of shock and rage slithers up his spine when he meets Daniel's pale eyes and realizes he was expecting to see burning gold through a curtain of dark hair.

Envy shuts his eyes again when Daniel only gives him another demanding kiss, but he still arches into the lean body above him. Moans and shudders under its rough grip and the hard thighs that are soon pressing against the backs of his own. It is another body he is thinking of though, and hands far more strong and deadly then the ones moving over him. His vision flashes gold for an instant as he stiffens and cries out and he hates Daniel for it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Envy smirks wider as he moves back to the bed and runs a hand down the center of the man's chest, just to watch his eyes flare and feel the quiver of skin under his palm. His voice drops to a purr. "I hope you appreciate the trouble I went through to find this little drug. You won't be able to move much at all, but you'll be quite a bit more sensitive for the next few hours. I've got such a lovely time planned." It is amusing to watch the uncertainty rise and waver behind the man's eyes. He is trying to convince himself this is all just a game now. All just some odd surprise his dear little Elric has planned out for him. It is almost pitiful.

The sin watches the hope rise a little as he shrugs out of his coat and hangs it carefully over the back of a chair. The look remains right up until he reaches into the pocket on his coat and gets out the two carefully copied arrays and the little bottle of tattooist's ink.
It becomes puzzlement then, it does not die until Daniel catches the glint of the tight bundle of needles he draws out next and the cloth gag they were wrapped in.

Envy sets out his supplies carefully. This, like everything else, must be perfect. He can not afford to have a twitch at the wrong moment spoil even one of the tattoos. It would mean he would have to start all over again when he has come so close. He hums faintly to himself as he spreads Daniel's left hand carefully over one knee, pressing the fingers back gently so he will have a clear view of the palm. The tune is an older one, vaguely military sounding and hummed deliberately off-key. There is a muffled scream from the head of the bed the first time he presses the inked needles to the skin, but he ignores it. It is not nearly as important as what he is doing. His motions are painstakingly slow and careful, but he knows that is the only way to make sure of his work. Besides, it doesn't matter if he takes his time with this. He has the whole day spread before him and the sun hasn't even risen yet.

Something to Keep (part 3)

Compared to what he has gone through with all his long years of planning, these final steps have been falling into place with almost absurd simplicity and Envy can't quite keep the smile off his face as he makes his way through the nighttime streets. It is past the hour that the old man gave him, but that really doesn't matter at this point. Short of the old man dying on him things are too far along to be easily stopped now. He wound his arm tighter around Daniel's waist and tugged the man back in against his side just to feel him stumble. He isn't worried about Daniel getting away. The man is far too dazed and weak from the last injection the sin gave him to do more then make the occasional plaintitive tug against Envy's grip on him and that seems to be more because he's just trying to drift drunkenly off in some other direction then because he has enough awareness left to actually protest where Envy is taking him.

They don't warrant much more then a few disproving glances from the few individuals still out on the streets as they near the old alchemist's house. He lives in a respectable neighborhood and while the residents will frown on a young man so drunk he needs to be helped home by a fiend they won't comment on it or even give it a second though, especially when said friend is grinning giddily as if he's had a bit too much to drink himself.

He is a little surprised that the door opens before he has even raised a hand to knock and it's not the old man in front of him but the alchemist's second daughter, the oldest of his living children. Her eyes brighten at the sight of him before flickering uneasily over to his burden and he has to tone down his smile into something calmer and more apologetic as he moves past her into the front room. "I'm sorry if I caused any worry by arriving so late. I ran into a bit of a delay." He lowers Daniel into a chair and places a firm hand against his chest when the drugged man makes a brief effort to get back on his feet.

"It's perfectly understandable, Mr. Elric. I know you aren't the sort who would turn your back on a responsibility to a friend." Envy can feel her hovering behind him. Can imagine the soft straining of tendons in her hands as she twists them together. Her father has told her a hundred times what a bad habit that it. But none of it pleases him quite so much as the faint hint of tightness and strain in her voice as she tries to see around his back to catch a glimpse of Daniel. He savors the taint of jealousy his actions have roused in her.

He checks over Daniel carefully as he momentarily pretends to ignore her and is satisfied to see that none of his work shows through the loose shirt he coaxed the man into and that the soft bandages wrapped around the drugged alchemist's palms are still firmly in place. Only after he has finished checking does he turn to face her and he can feel his eyes darken a little as he catches the sharp look she has been giving his burden. Her eyes drop and she flushes faintly when she realizes he has caught her looking so he steps toward her and pats her arm, fingers lingering just a little too long to be gentlemanly. "I deeply appreciate the patience and hospitality you've shown me and my friend, Miss Elliot. Is your father still available or have I left my visit too late?" He watches her flush more deeply and listens with only half an ear as she promises to go tell her father. She really is nothing like her elder sister.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The alchemist's eldest daughter stands out like a jewel among her family, flushed and laughing at something one of her admirers has said. Her eyes are shining as she shakes her head to send her thick fall of red-gold hair sliding back over her shoulders. Envy does not bother to listen to whatever reply she makes. At any other time he might have killed her on principle or just to see the horror in her eyes as he stripped her of her beauty and her life, but this time he had consideration's other then just his own pleasure.

He watches her most of the night, noting who she talks to and who she doesn't. He listens this time to what she says and is almost disappointed to find she had a certain measure of intelligence to go with her looks. She is bold enough to use it too, arguing down more then one of the young men who try to impress her with their stature and opinions. He isn't entirely sure if this makes what he is about to do more fun or less, but it really won't change anything.

He has searched the city for quite some while, because now that he has his components gathered he needs an alchemist to bring them together for him. There are several in the city that looked like they might have the skill to accomplish what he wants, but none of them have any need to cooperate or show more then academic interest in his project. Not yet anyway.

He waits until the alchemist's daughter slips away from the party and follows her out into the dark of the garden. She turns before they have traveled too far, eyes sparking and voice tart. "I came out here for a little air and privacy, Sir. I've no interest in your attentions at this moment or any other. Don't think I've been ignorant of the way you've been haunting my steps all night. I have little use for those not sure enough to approach me before the eyes of others."

He gives a low chuckle at the conclusion she has immediately jumped to, her little speech has the ring of practice to it and that makes things easy again. He moves toward her with a smirk. "That's fortunate, Miss Elliot. I too want privacy, for others do grate on my nerves so if I have to spend too much time dealing with them. And it wasn't for your beauty I followed you out here. I have business with your father, you're merely a convenient means of seeing that to a satisfactory conclusion."

The sudden uncertainty in her eyes is pleasing, the way they dart back toward the warm light she so eagerly stepped away from even more so. "My father is a busy man, but those who do business with him are free to contact him for an appointment during his regular hours. You're quite mistaken if you think I have anything to do with his business or any influence over him in regards to it."

She relaxes a little when he doesn't immediately move any closer, a hint of annoyance creeping into her expression as she begins to think she can regain control of the situation. Envy can see her straightening her shoulders to push past him back toward the party. He lets he get one step past before his arm darts out to wrap around her throat. Her futile struggles are delicious as they shift from outrage to panic, worth the elbow that digs into his ribs and the teeth that close on his palm. He's going to have such fun taking her apart and deciding what to leave for the little humans to discover....

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The arrival of the old alchemist draws him out of his pleasant recollections and he shoots a glance over toward Daniel, pleased to note the man had slumped placidly back into his chair. He turns his attention to the old man with a faint smile. "I apologize for being so late, Sir. As I told your daughter I met with a bit of a delay. I hope I haven't inconvenienced you too much?"

The man's eyes draw away from the drugged alchemist and over to Envy, looking faintly troubled. "No. No, inconvenience at all young man. I'm afraid your trip may have been in vain though. I've read through all the notes, but some of the things they outline..." He shakes his head. "It will be weeks before I could even consider making any sort of beginning preparations."

Envy tips his head a little at the announcement, it isn't exactly unexpected but he is a little curious about the man's reasons. "Is it a problem of materials?" He knows it isn't, not directly anyway. All the materials mentioned are common enough that a practicing alchemist can gain possession of them easily enough if he doesn't have them on hand already.

The old alchemist gives him a faintly impatient and patronizing look. "I'm no amateur, but the kind of concentration and power the notes talk about will take a long time to ready."

Envy keeps his expression cluelessly innocent as he lets his form droop in disappointment. He slides one hand into a pocket and draws a single red stone out. He holds it out hesitantly as if unsure if he should or not. He licks his lips. "W-would this be of any help with it? I was told to just keep it tucked away unless there was a real emergency, but...." He holds the act with long practiced skill as he watches the alchemist's eyes go wide at the sight of the stone. It's amusing to see the interest spark in his eyes as he jumps to the conclusion that the stone like the notes are from his famous 'cousins'.

The old alchemist closes the distance between them with a few swift strides and takes the stone with something approaching reverence, eyes lighting as he runs his fingers over the condensed life it holds. "This...this may help greatly but I will still need several weeks to prepare."

There is a tense eagerness in the old man's voice that Envy doesn't care for and he steps back and straightens his posture. It seems like his little act had gone as far as it can. "No. No I don't think you do. I think with that little stone and the notes I so thoughtfully wrote out for you that you can get this done tonight. It shouldn't take you more then a few hours to get everything set up if you haven't gotten it done already." He smirks at the shocked looking alchemist, moving swiftly to stand next to the alchemist's daughter and wrapping an almost gentle hand around her throat. The girl gives a startled squeak, trembling in his grip as she turns frightened, confused eyes on her father. "I don't appreciate being lied to or cheated. And you were trying to cheat me, weren't you?"

The older alchemist's face tightens, hand clenching around the stone as his eyes flicker between Envy and his daughter. "What, exactly, do you want?"

"I want what I bargained for, a single human transmutation to bring back something I lost." Envy tightens his grip a little at the girl's startled gasp and attempt to pull away from him. "Now, will you give me what we agreed on or do I give you even more work to do? The stone is not limitless you know."

The old alchemist's jaw clenches as he shifts his eyes consideringly from Envy to his daughter. "Fine. I'll need three hours to finish preparing."

Envy nods and pulls the girl over to sit with him on the couch. "That's fine. We'll all wait for you right here, nice and cozy." He notices with amusement that the old alchemist very deliberately doesn't look at Daniel's lax form again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

He has waited for months, strengthening his hold on the younger alchemist and watching the older to make sure everything is going his way. He has waited until the funeral and the wake and the period of mourning have all come and gone, until he has seen the alchemist starting to give the remainder of his family a few small smiles and the focus of his previously scattered attention. He has waited until it seems like the man might be starting to heal.

He approaches as the man is coming home from some bit of business or other, moving closer with quick but hesitant steps out of the shadows as if he's been lingering there in almost vein hopes of catching the man at some point. The old alchemist has almost moved up the stairs to the door before Envy, moving mortal slow, is able to reach out with pleading fingers and catch his sleeve. The man casts him no more then a glance before starting to shake him off and pull away so the sin opens his mouth and lets the words he has decided on tumble out in an almost too quick rush. "Please, Sir, I know you don't know me or have any reason to give pause but please stay your journey long enough to listen for a few minutes at least. I know you have lost one you valued. I too have suffered such a cruel sting from the fates." Envy can see the man tensing and feels his fingers slide away from fabric, that's fine though. He's almost done. "Please, Mr. Elliot. My name is Nathaniel Elric and I believe we can help each other."

The sin lets his hand drop slowly as he watches the alchemist take the last few steps to his door and open it. He doesn't try to follow or make any other appeals. He has full faith in his ability to manipulate and the unlimited folly of the weakness humans call the heart. He has said more then enough and he is not disappointed. Mr. Elliot steps inside and holds the portal open behind him. The old man turns his head finally, giving Envy a hard look before nodding his head fractionally. "Come in then, devil. I'll hear what bargain you're offering."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The hours pass quickly for Envy, lost as he almost allowed himself to become in his recollections. The trembling uncertainty of the girl at his side makes it all the sweeter, especially with the way she leaned into him just the slightest bit after the first hour when he had let his grip loosen enough that his hand was merely resting against the base of her throat. Even witnessing what had passed between her father and himself, she still clings to the person he has fooled her into thinking he is. Today is turning out to be such a good day and it will only be getting better in the next few hours.

He lifts his head slowly when he hears footsteps approaching the front room at last and then springs to his feet, leaving the girl to waver on the couch with the sudden loss of her support. He is grinning widely as he moves back over to the chair and hauls Daniel to his feet. Hazy eyes crack open to peer at him as he pulls one of the alchemist's arms across his shoulders and wraps his own arm around the unsteady man's waist.

"Than?" Envy's grin widens at the faintly slurred nickname. He is still manageable, but not nearly so out of it as he had been early this evening. That makes things even better.

The door to the room is pushed sharply open and the old alchemist motions Envy to follow him with a tight expression. "It's all ready. Come with me." The sin smirks as he follows his unwilling host into what looks like a formal entertaining room. He can hear the hesitant steps of the alchemist's middle daughter as she creeps after them. The large array takes up most of the center of the room, a pile of components already filling the center.

The old man goes immediately to the edge of the array, giving Envy an expectant look as he kneels down. The sin shakes his head at the alchemist. "Not just yet. I have a special component to be added to this, because of the nature of the one I want to see reborn." He can feel the old man's uneasy gaze on him as he moves Daniel to one corner of the room and starts to strip him.

The drugged man struggles a little at first, but quiets and leans into Envy's hands with a sigh when the sin pauses to stroke his hair and whisper a quiet reassurance in his ear. He doesn't notice the malice in the false gold of the eyes watching him or the cruel cant of the sin's lips as it runs a hand down the simple design of a crucified serpent it has marked on his chest.

Envy hears a stifled gasp as he leads the now unresisting man to the center of the array and settles him next to the rest of the components. He lingers a moment to trace a few of the small cuts that decorate the man's legs and torso and to ensure he will stay put. Really, it is such a delightful day. He retreats to kneel next to the alchemist and places the very tips of his fingers on the edge of the array. He can't actually take part in the alchemy, nor does he wish to, but he needs to make sure he is part of the act enough that the beings in the Gate will listen to him.

The old alchemist gives him a sharp look, but then just shakes his head and takes a slow breath as he begins the reaction. Envy watches the golden light swirl serenely for the first few instants as the components stir slightly and Daniel tries unsteadily to get to his feet, mouth wide with awe or terror at the light surrounding him. The sin feels a surge of triumph as he catches the first flickers of darker light tainting the gold and feels the cold pull of the Gate slither down his spine. He hears Daniel start to scream and immediately raises his voice. "I offer a bargain to you! Leave the arms for the one about to be born and the rest of the alchemist called Daniel is yours! It is a good bargain!"

The sin jerks back away from the array as soon as he feels the Gate's satisfaction and acceptance of the offering. The old alchemist looks at him with horrified eyes and tries to stand and follow Envy, but he drops with a scream when the tendrils of the gate reach out for him, to collect their due from the one who has called them. Envy ignores the old man along with everything else but the reaction that is slowly completing and the form that is taking shape in the center of the dark light suffusing the array.

As soon as the last of the light has died away and the Gate has faded back to its own place Envy walks out onto the array with slow steps, almost trembling with his anticipation. The sin sheds his borrowed form and kneels. He runs a soft hand over the bloody, quivering form curled on the stained wood floor, checks the arms protruding at odd angles from the mass carefully to make sure the bargain has been heeded. He can't afford to waste stones on a failure. All is as it should be though, and when the newborn gives a low, pained moan at his attention he croons softly at it and pulls the pouch of stones from his pocket.

He runs a hand soothingly through the damp black hair as he feeds his new companion the stones one by one, murmuring soft reassurances as tremors shake it and its form stretches and untangles into the familiar lean muscle of his lost toy. He waits eagerly as the start of memory and awareness begins to trickle back into the new homunculus's eyes and expression.

The first thing the newborn does is gather itself and try to lunge at him. "You bastard! You have no right to do this, damn you!"

Envy catches the former alchemist with a low chuckle as his still unsteady legs fail to support him. "Hush, now. I was very careful about what I was doing, your alchemy will still work fine." He tips his head toward the bleeding alchemist collapsed at the edge of the array. "Try for yourself."

There is still rage in Kimbley's eyes, but he relaxes a fraction and stares down at his new hands. He flexes them carefully, studying the arrays freshly tattooed onto them. The former alchemist finally gives a small nod and stands more carefully. "Fine." He keeps shooting looks Envy's way until he has reached the fallen alchemist and crouched beside him. He slides his hands over the man for a moment before pressing them together and laying them on the man with an almost hesitant motion. There is a faint tremble to his hands at first, but it fades as his eyes widened and an expression of pure satisfaction crosses his face as the old man comes apart under his hands.

Envy laughs and moves up behind him, running a hand over his head. Kimbley glares up at him. "You still shouldn't have done it." The look doesn't last long though, as he is distracted by the muffled cries of the alchemist's daughter. He rises slowly, leaning into Envy's touch for an unconscious instant before sliding out from under the sin's hand and closing in on the huddled girl with a hungry expression.

Envy watches him with a feeling of supreme satisfaction. Of course he shouldn't have done it, that was part of the reason to do it. A smile curves his lips up slowly as the sound of a second explosion rips through the room. The expression is, for once, unshadowed by malice or bitterness. "Welcome back."

Fic: Written History

chiaroscuro_mosaic@yahoo.com — Thu, 02 Feb 2006 08:29:42 GMT

Posting a fic I did as a Christmas gift for skyler_daemon.

Written History
AU. Spoilers for Pride's identity.
I don't own FMA and I don't make any money from this.

It began in the east, where the sun rises. In Ishbal, where our Furor fell and rose again and brought us to the beginning of a new age.

There exists no record of why he traveled to the front, but there is not one in the whole of the empire who would not express joy that destiny made it so.

All the forces in the area had gathered to welcome him and hear him speak and all reacted with equal shock when the last desperate shreds of the Ishbalan resistance descended in blood and madness upon the gathering. Hundreds saw the Furor fall in a hail of bullets and shuddered at the blow Amestria had been dealt. And those same hundreds saw him rise again in a flash of light, strong and unbloodied to tear his blades through those who thought to stand against the might of our nation. After that day the back of the Ishbalan resistance was broken. After that day, everything was changed.

But we need not flinch back in the face of his power, for he did not stand alone against the attack. The alchemists. Those who had been sent to end the threat in the east stood with him. They sought him out in the bloody heart of the battle and fought in his shadow for the glory of Amestria. Some died for it, as many of the lesser soldiers perished in the conflict, but in the end they stood alone with him in a sea of blood. Triumphant over our enemies.

All who survived that tumultuous day were rewarded for their bravery and service. Among the alchemists though, there were those who received special recognition. Those who had pushed fearlessly into the most tangled heart of the battle. Crimson. Ironblood. Whirlwind. Skyfire. These the Furor took as the beginning of his personal guard, extensions of his own power and answerable to none but himself.

When Ishbal was settled and the Furor had returned to bring his people word of our triumph there was great celebration. The admiration and support of the people let the military take greater steps in their defense and soon the whole of the eastern deserts had been brought to heel. And, with each triumph, the grandeur and influence of the Furor grew. It was not until later that the gratitude began to wane and foolish whispers and lies began to flow through the streets of Central. Even in their fall the people of Ishbal had done damage, poisoning some of our countrymen against us and a rebellion rose up on the very day Furor King Bradley became King Bradley I.

Again though, there were those who stood by his side in the face of dark times. Not only his guard of alchemists, but those of keen mind and clear perception among the military ranks. From the survivors of these he raised up the seven commanders who would be the leaders of the army he reforged from the near ruin of rebellion. From his actions and vision, for the second time, the day that could have been our ruin became a rebirth of greatness. From the cleansing that followed the rebellion were born many things: the great armies that are the backbone of our nation, the sweeping reforms that helped shape Amestria into a world power, and the seeds of our Empire.

The strength and majesty of our nation is vast and it all springs forth from the heart and soul, from the vision, of one man. Our Emperor. The pride of our nation. King Bradley. And it is for his glory and that of our nation that we prepare for war with the kingdom of Xing. At tomorrow's dawn they will witness the rewards of their foolishness as the Emperor's guard personally lead the first graduating class of the Royal Alchemical College into battle. It will be the sight of a lifetime.

--from the hand of Alphonse Elric, alchemist and chronicler/historian of the Royal Alchemical College

drabble

chiaroscuro_mosaic@yahoo.com — Sat, 17 Dec 2005 23:11:13 GMT

Another little drabble. Kimbley-centric this time.

Title: Instant
Character: Kimbley
Warnings: character death and implied sex
I don't own FMA and don't make any money from this.

The monster had talked at him once, as he lay spent and bloody beneath it. "So insistent on instant gratification?" He had pushed it away. What time was there for a dead man, outside the instant?

When the soldiers came, he was ready. Sitting in the back room, swirling the dregs in his glass before gulping them down. The burn was negligible. He watched panic rising faster then guns, when he grinned at them with his hands pressed tight against his own chest. "You lose."

He didn't even feel the bullets as the world dissolved into one instant of fire.

Gift fic

chiaroscuro_mosaic@yahoo.com — Wed, 05 Oct 2005 15:55:57 GMT

This is a gift done for swordage, who decided I should go ahead and post it.

Patience
Kimbley centric.
Slight spoilers for later episodes.
I own nothing and am not making any money off this.

He has dreamed this a thousand times. The distant rumble and crack a perfect symphony for the triumph of broken walls, for cracks that spread and widen and shiver with promise. Shards of stone crunch and scatter beneath his feet as dust drifts and eddies in its liberation, welcoming what returns to it.

The rise and burn of his own long-slumbering desire is almost eclipsed by the witnessing of this. A truth played out before his senses in all its fullness. It almost hurts in its intensity, trembling and shivering through him as the stones of the prison shout aloud their destruction. Their achievement. But the pulse and flex in his palms grounds him, frailer matter giving way beneath them as stone would not. He joins in the act, the fulfillment of patience, as stone yields to pressure and power that has nothing to do with time.

He turns his attentions upon his teacher, yielding flesh pressed into hard stone until it too yields. Until his veins sing with it and the world itself feels uncertain and distant as the ringing in his ears. For a brief moment, he is as he was before, bright and thunder quick. Unstoppable.

It does not last.

When he comes back to himself, he is trembling faintly. Exhausted and drained, he can do little but continue to move. The mesh of himself feels strained and tender after the rush, but he is still whole. Unlike the stone and darkness, he has not shattered. Destruction has moved through him without lingering. When the others appear, cracks clearly running through and trailing their own wake of broken flesh and architecture, he follows them out without question. There is no reason to stay.

The place they eventually lead him to is nothing much, though the name amuses him. It is simply another place to wait. More diverting then the last, but, in the end, little different. The one with the hungry eyes is a fool, blindly fleeing the truth. He claims to have spent centuries buried in earth and stone, but seems to know nothing of them. Not that it matters. This place, like the last, shatters and falls away. Again he participates in the act and again he emerges unscathed, destruction having moved within him, through him, and fallen away like all else. It puzzles him, that this cycle should repeat, but he is patient now. He can wait.

There is a long restless period, after he leaves the second place of waiting. He is shuffled here and there and back again. To protect him from the military or the military from him, he is no longer entirely sure. The one who directs the moves has eyes hard and cold as any stone. He likes the man immediately. At times the man will watch him, smile never reaching his stone eyes which are blue as blindness. Though, he does not think this one is entirely blind. Destruction hovers around his words, his cold eagerness. When those eyes are on him, he thinks what it would be like to see and feel them shatter, to turn the stone of the man to shadows and dust. He smiles back.

Finally things are decided. This time, when he moves, it is with purpose, traveling with the stone eyed man. He is returning East, returning to war. The cycle is swinging back around to where it was before the times of waiting and patience. There is a sandstorm the day they arrive. It pleases him. Perhaps here, in the town called Lior, his patience will finally be rewarded and destruction will come to stay.

Fic, at last.

chiaroscuro_mosaic@yahoo.com — Fri, 23 Sep 2005 10:10:18 GMT

Title: Butterfly Dreams
Warnings for cursing and implied sex.
Sort of spoilers for the Devil's Nest crew.
I don't own any of FMA or make any money from this.

Butterfly Dreams

She stretched slowly, feeling the cold of the small apartment ache in every joint. In the dingy light of the dim room it was hard to tell that the seasons in the world outside her walls were just shifting into the first bright days of summer. They had turned off the heat in the building yesterday, but she knew that even being able to turn on the ancient radiator wouldn't have really helped. Everywhere felt cold after the desert's heat, especially Central, though she had never been able to figure out quite why.

Faded green eyes, darkened more by time and loss then the rich pigment that had drawn so much attention in her younger years, stared at the small collection of photos on the table across the room. A few tarnished medals were scattered among the worn frames, not nearly as many as the scars that had bought them. She wondered, sometimes, if it had really all been worth it. In the end, there seemed so little to show. A tiny apartment and an even smaller pension, rewards for her honorable discharge. Her lip curled slightly.

She turned and shuffled into the tiny kitchen, hoping tea and food might provide at least the illusion of warmth. She got the kettle heating easily enough, the battered range, for once, condescending to work on the first try. The sandwich was harder. She stared a long time at the uneven, ragged slices of tomato that lay under the knife in her knotted hand, arthritis having long ago made a firm, steady grip impossible. She threw the whole mess in the trash and put the rest of the ingredients back in the fridge before settling in one of the two kitchen chairs with her tea. She propped her feet up in the other, its wobble and one short leg at least not hindering its use for a that.

She stared into the dark, bitter liquid as she waited for it to cool. She had run out of honey early last week. She hadn't had cream in longer then that. She finally raised the cup to her lips and took a sip, she didn't even curse this time when the too soon drink scalded her tongue. At least that deadened the taste a little.

Her eyes settled on the unopened letter propped against the empty vase that guarded the center of the table. The vase was a delicate thing, translucent white with a faint shading of indigo near the base. Law had given it to her along with a tiny bundle of the thin, bluish-purple scrub flowers that grew anywhere the desert cared to yield up a little water. It had been a celebration gift, when they announced the war was over. He had blushed when she stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. It had cracked when she moved here.

She forced her eyes back to the unopened letter. The style was familiar enough that she didn't need to open it to know what it said. Another death announced, another person gone. It had been Martins last year. Dorchette, three years before that. She wondered how long it would be before it was her and if she even cared. She didn't reach for the letter. She didn't want to know who it was this time. But she knew she would look eventually. She always did. At least if she waited long enough to look, she wouldn't have to go to the funeral.

Her eyes fell back to the tea as she let her mind drift. The dreams had come again last night. Not the more pleasant ones of spending time with the rest of her squad on base or in that one bar, the something Nest. Nor even the tolerable ones that relived old missions, excitement and fear scorching through her veins until the blood and chaos around her all fell into stillness. The other dreams. The ones that smelled of damp concrete, unwashed bodies, and the mingled taint of old pain and fresh fear.

She had never been able to figure out where those dreams came from. She had never been afraid of small spaces or confinement. Had never been forced to stay crouched in a three by four foot cage, huddled on rough concrete because she lacked room or strength to stand. She had never lived through anything even close to that. She most certainly had never been forced to watch as people she knew were dragged away, one by one, to a red etched circled that flared with light and choked off their screams.

She stared blindly down at the cup of tea clutched in her age-spotted hands, not aware it had long grown cold. If they were recent, she might have thought the dreams were her mind's way of representing her present lifestyle, tucked away here in these few small rooms and watching everyone she knew falling slowly to age and time. But the dreams had been with her for too long, since before the end of the war.

And they always felt real. Well, that was nothing new. The dreams always felt real when they involved her squad, almost more like memory then dream. Even the ones she knew she had never lived, could never have lived, held the texture of oft used memories. There was no way she should know what those things felt like, should carry the bitter taste of regret and betrayal into even her waking life. No explanation for why she would sometimes wake in the middle of the night with the feel of cold concrete or warm hands clinging to her skin.

She shook herself and rose to deposit the still half full cup in the sink with its brethren. They were only dreams after all. However pretty that one little story the recruit whose mother was from Xing had told, there was no blurring the lines between life and dreams. There was no way a man could mistake himself for a butterfly.

She shuffled back into the dim living room and settled into the creaking rocker. She felt drained, even her small trip into the kitchen made her ache with tiredness. Maybe she should sleep again, last night hadn't been very restful. She settled in a little more comfortably, eyes already drooping half shut. Maybe she could find one of the better dreams this time...

There was someone shaking her shoulder and too bright light against her eyes, both conspiring to pull her out of sleep. She turned over, burying her face against her pillow. "Hnnn. Go 'way." She tightened her grip on the blanket, glad the new position did away with the light. Even if it didn't do anything about the shaking. She pulled a hand free and swatted blindly at the disturbance. "Said go 'way."

The hand left for a moment, then returned to trace a light, teasing path down her spine as an amused voice purr warmly in her ear. "But, sweetheart, you're in my bed."

She lifted her face and turned a groggy glare on Greed, his amused expression not helping her mood. "Fine, don't leave then. Why did you wake me?" She twitched slightly as his hand continued to play lightly over her back.

"You were muttering in your sleep, didn't sound like anything pleasant." He ran his hand lightly across her shoulders. "Anything you want to talk about?"

She blinked at him blankly a moment before leaning back into the warm touch a little. "No, it wasn't a nightmare or anything. It's just an old, recurring dream sort of thing I have from time to time. Had it for years."

"Really?" He leaned toward her, a line of warmth against her side to match the warm hand on her back.

She glanced sideways at him. He looked interested, this early in the morning that never boded well. "It's nothing interesting."

He made a small disappointed sound, then perked up again. "Did you know there's some sort of Xingese story or parable or something about dreams? It had to do with a scholar and a butterfly. The man fell asleep in his garden one day and dreamed that he was a butterfly. The dream was supposed to have been so real that when he woke up the scholar didn't know if he was a man who had dreamed he was a butterfly or a butterfly who was dreaming he was a man."

Greed's eyes were all lit up and he had the sort of enthusiasm on his face that said he would dig into the subject as ravenously as he did everything else, if given half a chance to get going. She shifted her eyes away. "No, I've never heard that one. Let's get up and get some coffee before the damn alchemist hogs it all." She rolled away from him and out of the bed, hearing him get up behind her with a sense of relief. The idea was ridiculous, of course. There was no blurring the lines between life and dreams. There was no way a man could mistake himself for a butterfly.

Meme

chiaroscuro_mosaic@yahoo.com — Thu, 08 Sep 2005 23:50:51 GMT

Tagged by forgottenlover.

Write 20 random facts about yourself then tag the same amount of people as minutes it takes you to write the facts. If you're tagged it's your turn.

1. One of my favorite foods is homemade bread.
2. I must have at least one book in reach at all times.
3. I'm a gamer.
4. I have an MLS.
5. I am very fond of RPGs.
6. My first fanfic was in FMA.
7. I have never had to go to the hospital.
8. I have a B.A. in Humanities.
9. I'm learning to play Duel Monsters.
10. One of my favorite movies is The Usual Suspects.
11. One of my favorite books is Changer.
12. Another is The Bone Doll's Twin.
13. Just about every pet I've ever had has been female.
14. I took three or four semesters of Latin in college.
15. My family used to raise rabbits.
16. I got a 29 on my ACT both times I took it.
17. The first anime that really caught my attention was Slayers.
18. I have a plush dragon guarding my monitor.
19. I like my vegetables raw.
20. I didn't like trying to come up with things for this list. *half-hearted glare at Aru*

Tagging: Anyone who wants to do it. I'm not going to go after anybody in particular.