whole volumes in folio

what is that? it's a bird -- it's a plane -- no, it's elevenses!!!

kmckernie@gmail.com — Sun, 22 Jun 2008 18:23:19 GMT

*brushes off dust*

Wow. I've been gone way, way too long. I can't believe it's been over a year! I am ashamed of myself, I haven't even visited LJ except to join a few communities in all that time. College really is a full-time business! However, I am attempting to work my way back into the realm of LJ and fanfic. I'm making no promises, but it really is something that I want to do. I've missed "visiting" and writing and sharing with you all!

Actually, speaking of writing and sharing, part of the reason I'm here is because on a recent whim I got on ff.net and took a glance at my old LotR fanfic. After much cringing and gagging, I decided that I want to go through all those old stories and bring them to life again - I don't know if I'll ever finish them, but I at least want to polish off what I have written. Thus, I grabbed the first chapter of Folly of the Wise and rewrote it. I think it sounds quite different, hopefully in a good way. I don't know when I will get the next chapter done - I've got six short essays and two research papers to finish by Wednesday so that takes priority at the moment. However, I hope to get on it soon, and in the meantime I hope you all enjoy rereading the beginning of an old story. :D

Title: Folly of the Wise
Series: Lord of the Rings (movie & bookverse)
Character(s)/Pairings: the Fellowship
Rating: PG/T
Summary: Gen. The story of The Fellowship of the Ring, as seen through the eyes of Gondor's eldest son, Boromir.

Folly of the Wise
Chapter I. The Council

“STRANGERS FROM distant lands, friends of old.” Lord Elrond’s voice was deep and sonorous, commanding in a way not that even my father in his prime could have emulated. Each word fell like a stone and I failed to suppress an involuntary shiver, sitting up straighter in my chair. “You have been summoned to answer the threat of Mordor. Middle-earth stands upon the brink of destruction. None can escape it. You will unite, or you will fall. Each race is bound this fate, this one doom.” He paused briefly, cool gray gaze flicking over each of us for one unnerving moment. “Bring forth the Ring, Frodo.”

All eyes turned to the dark-haired Halfling who sat beside Gandalf the Grey, looking extremely uncomfortable at having all our attention fixed upon him. I had not seen the Ring-bearer before, and as he stood I was startled by how very small he was, and how young he appeared: with his smooth delicate features and fair skin he looked almost like a very short, curly-haired Elf. Pity tugged briefly at me as he reluctantly stepped forward, movements stiff (I recalled that he was still healing from a grievous wound) — but it was forgotten a moment later, when he took a small gold band from his pocket and placed it on the stone pedestal in the center of the courtyard. Such a plain, simple ring — but how it drew the eye! One could not look away. I heard gasps and whispers around me, and I leaned forward to closer examine this trinket – the ring that could overthrow Sauron and forever rid us of his evil. Beside me, I heard Ottar, a man of Laketown, whisper with dread in his voice, “The doom of man!” Fool! I thought. Not the doom of man! The salvation of man!

“So it is true…” I was not conscious of speaking aloud, but as Elrond and the wizard turned questioning gazes in my direction I raised my voice and continued, passion mounting with every word. “It is a gift! A gift to the foes of Mordor. Why not use this ring?

“Long has my father, the steward of Gondor, kept the forces of Mordor at bay. By the blood of our people are your lands kept safe.” I spread my hands, glancing around the council. “Give Gondor the weapon of the enemy. Let us use it against him!” Surely they saw the truth of my words. Surely they realized that it was hopeless – not to mention the height of folly – to attempt to destroy the Ring!

But hardly had I finished speaking than another man, a Ranger by his dress, protested sharply. “You cannot wield it.” He softened his voice, but the grey eyes that met mine were intractable. “None of us can. The one ring answers to Sauron alone. It has no other master.”

I scoffed. “And what would a Ranger know of this matter?” The Ranger opened his mouth as if to speak, but instead dropped his gaze. Legolas, the fair-haired Prince of Mirkwood, sprang up at once, fixing me with an angry stare. “He is no mere Ranger. He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. You owe him your allegiance.” Shock stole my tongue for an instant. I turned back to the Ranger, who looked at me without expression. “Aragorn?” I repeated at last, unable to keep the disbelief from my voice. “This…is Isildur’s heir?”

“And heir to the throne of Gondor,” added Legolas fiercely, returning my attention to him. I made to reply but Aragorn spoke to the Prince in Elvish, a language I did not know. Whatever he said, it caused the proud Elf to slowly return to his seat, not taking his eyes off me, meeting my glare. “Gondor has no king,” I informed him firmly. “Gondor needs no king.” I returned to my own chair and sat down, closing my eyes for a moment to keep my temper under control.

The wizard Gandalf, once my brother’s tutor, stood up. “Aragorn is right,” he said. I felt his glance, but did not look up. “We cannot use it.” At this I did raise my head, and saw Lord Elrond nod his agreement. “You have only one choice,” Gandalf continued. He paused, scanning the members of the Council. “The Ring must be destroyed.” I sighed in exasperation. How was it that beings renowned for their wisdom could be so foolish?

One of the dwarves stood up. “Then what are we waiting for?” he bellowed in a deep, rumbling voice incongruous with his size. I straightened up, realizing his intentions too late, as he grabbed one of his companion’s axes and struck the Ring with all his strength. At the same moment I caught movement out of the corner of my eye: Frodo had winced as though the blow had physically hurt him. Yet it made not the slightest mark on the ring: the gold band remained perfectly intact, while the axe was in pieces. A sigh of relief escaped me but my palms were still clammy with the fear that had gripped me with the axe’s blow. “It cannot be destroyed, Gimli, son of Gloin,” said Lord Elrond gravely, as the astonished dwarf was helped to his feet by one of his companions, “by any craft that we here possess. The ring was made in the fires of Mount Doom. Only there can it be unmade. It must be taken deep into Mordor and cast back into the fiery chasm from whence it came.”

Realization hit me like a blow: they were going to do it. They were going to destroy the Ring!

“One of you must do this.”

I barely heard Elrond’s last words. I wanted to scream at them, shake them. Fools! Arrogant fools! How could they be so blind? Did they not see that it was worse than madness to destroy the only weapon that we have against the Enemy? They, who call themselves the Wise, they cannot see their own folly!

I spoke again, trying to control my fury, to keep my voice calm, in one more desperate plea. “One does not simply walk into Mordor. Its black gates are guarded by more than just orcs. There is evil there that does not sleep. And the great eye is ever watchful.”

As I spoke, I locked eyes with the young Frodo. He met my gaze with eyes of startling azure; in them fear and pain were plainly writ. His small boyish face was a shade paler than it had been, and I could see him trembling even from where I stood. Another twinge of sympathy was suppressed; I could not back down even for the sake of this innocent. The Council must be convinced! But the Halfling surprised me when, after staring at me for a few moments, he straightened his shoulders and set his lips in a firm line, gaze hardening despite the fine tremors that still shook his slender frame. Much as I admired his courage, I pressed on more relentlessly.

“'Tis a barren wasteland, riddled with fire and ash and dust. The very air that you breathe is a poisonous fume. Not with ten thousand men could you do this. It is folly.”

Once again Legolas stood up. “Have you heard nothing Lord Elrond just said? The Ring must be destroyed!” I swung round sharply. Who was he to speak thus to me, his equal? A prince, yes, but only of the forest of Mirkwood—Gondor is far greater, far more powerful. I opened my mouth to reply, but Gimli beat me to it.

“And I suppose you think you’re the one to do it?” he roared. Legolas did not answer, but his eyes glinted in silent fury. The other Elves of Mirkwood stood up in wrathful defense of their lord, as did as the rest of the dwarves, and verbal barbs began flying between the two peoples. I stepped in then, seizing the opportunity provided by this discord. “And if we fail, what then?” I demanded of all, raising my voice to be heard. “What happens when Sauron takes back what is his?”

The Mirkwood Elves and the dwarves were not listening. Gimli’s voice rise above the others. “I will be dead before I see the Ring in the hands of an Elf!” This brought the Elves of Rivendell to their feet, save Lord Elrond and his sons, and their outraged voices were added to the tumult. I found myself in the middle of it as well, as Gandalf joined in the dispute and began arguing with me, the fool. I heard Gimli again: “Never trust an Elf!”

Suddenly, over the deafening noise of our argument, a small voice spoke up.

"I will take the It! I will take the Ring!"

I froze mid-sentence, as did we all. The tiny voice of the young hobbit somehow had carried over the noise and now everyone – myself included – turned to stare at him. Frodo's eyes were wide and he seemed as astonished by his own words as were we. But he did not shrink back, instead continuing, softly. “I will take the Ring to Mordor, although... I do not know the way.”

His words hung on the air. It was so silent that I could hear an eagle’s cry high above us. No one moved.

At last Gandalf stepped forward and placed a wizened hand on Frodo’s small shoulder. “I will help you bear this burden, Frodo Baggins,” he said. “As long as it is yours to bear.”

There was another beat of silence, broken by Aragorn, that so-called Heir of Isildur. He came to kneel before Frodo. “If by my life, or death, I can protect you, I will. You have my sword.”

Frodo’s eyes were still wide, but he nodded almost imperceptibly and Aragorn moved to stand behind him. Then Legolas followed the Ranger’s example. “And you have my bow.” Gimli came close behind. “And you have my axe.” The Elf prince looked as though he were about to say something, but after glancing at Elrond, remained silent. Frodo seemed bewildered by these two volunteers.

I had lost. I stepped forward, drawing the pale blue gaze once again. “You carry the fate of us all, little one,” I said quietly. My tone was carefully flat. “If this is indeed the will of the council” – I looked around, the words bitter on my tongue – “then Gondor will see it done.”

“Here!” I turned around in surprise and saw Frodo’s servant—Samwise, I later learned—rushing forward to stand by his master’s side. “Mr. Frodo’s not goin’ anywhere without me.” Despite Frodo’s shocked look, he folded short arms across his chest, glaring at all of us as if daring us to contradict him. A little taken aback by the ferocity of his assertion, I glanced at Lord Elrond to see his reaction. He was smiling, something I had not seen him do in all the time I had been in Rivendell.

“No indeed,” he said with a chuckle. “It is hardly possible to separate you, even when he is summoned to a secret council and you are not.” Samwise reddened to the tips of his pointed ears and Frodo ducked his head to hide a smile, briefly touching the other’s arm in reassurance or gratitude.

Suddenly two other voices rang out. “We’re coming too!” Two more Halflings came scrambling into the courtyard to join their companions, whose stunned expressions they utterly ignored. “You’d have to send us home tied up in a sack to stop us,” said one.

“Besides,” added the other, clearly the younger, in his strange, piping accent, “you’ll need people of intelligence on this sort of mission… quest… thing.”

His friend glanced at him drily. “We that rules you out, Pip.”

No one knew quite what to make of this development; the air of grave tension had somehow vanished, so swiftly that we were all left dizzy with the change. Then Lord Elrond caught our attention again, giving our group a measuring gaze. “Nine companions,” he said musingly. I instinctively straightened up, and felt the others do the same. “So be it. You shall be the Fellowship of the Ring.”

I glanced at the others. Aragorn’s face was emotionless and Gandalf seemed to be deep in thought. Legolas and Gimli were pointedly ignoring each other and looking in opposite directions. Frodo was recovering from his surprise and giving his fellow Halflings a look that promised strong words later (it was a look I recognized well, for I had given it to my brother many times), but all three avoided his eyes. “Great!” said the one who seemed to be the youngest. “So, where are we going?”

The tension was broken again. Even I could not be frustrated any longer and instead found a bemused grin tugging at my lips. Apparently the others felt the same, for I heard scattered chuckling hastily muffled. Lord Elrond merely raised an elegant brow.

It was utterly ridiculous, the thought that came to me then: This Fellowship just might succeed after all.

To be continued…

Soooo....

kmckernie@gmail.com — Mon, 14 May 2007 14:43:40 GMT

So yeah. Dislocated my knee or something on Saturday, much fun! I'm not even sure how I did it... it just got gradually worse and worse (not really painful, I just couldn't put weight on it), and finally got all swollen and sore. (Last night it was even much hotter than the rest of my leg.) I can feel my kneecap moving around when I touch it, blech. *shudder*

Of course, I was supposed to work today 2:30 to 9, but that obviously won't be happening. I have a doctors appointment at 2:30 and hopefully he'll fix it (ack, NOT looking forward to that process!!!). Possibly I'll be able to go into work at around 7 and help the poor girl who's closing. Otherwise she'd have to do it alone, or my boss would have to stay late, which she does all the time because she's a workaholic. As long as I can just sit on the stool, ring people up, answer the phones, do the drawers, and not walk around, I should be fine. :P

So yup, that's what's going on here. That, and college woes. But I won't bore you with my whining on that subject. *SIGH*

Hope everyone had an awesome Mother's Day, by the way!!

*hugs*

Never thought I'd say it, but...

kmckernie@gmail.com — Fri, 11 May 2007 02:33:17 GMT

Gads, I love the French!!! Who knew there were any left among them capable of such courageous and rational thought? I'm shocked. Best part of that article, though, is the meaning of the croissant - I had no idea it was shaped like a crescent to commemorate the Crusaders' victory over Islam. As Ann says, aren't the French just peachy? XDDD

My only regret about this is that I can't pick on them anymore. Now I can only pick on Spain, but I suppose they'll have to do. A nation of women, indeed. *snort*

Wow, who'd have thunk? Now the French rule. As do the Brits. And the Australians. And the Canadians! <3

....Gosh, too bad President Bush has alienated us from the rest of the civilised world, huh. XD

Fanfic :: Nabari no Ou :: Distraction [oneshot]

kmckernie@gmail.com — Tue, 10 Apr 2007 03:39:30 GMT

Written for the 2007 April Fool's Day Exchange at nabari and nabari_no_ou, for the wonderful and talented kaneha. ^^

Title: Distraction
For: kaneha
Rating: G/K
Summary: Miharu always tried so hard to seem like he didn’t care about anything or anyone, but Kouichi had never been fooled. And now he knew that he was right, because Miharu’s indifferent mask was cracking.
Warnings: Uh… possible fluff overdose? A complete lack of April Fool’s Day mischief? UNBETA'D? (that will be fixed when I post it on ff.net)

...Oh yeah, and SPOILERS for the end of volume one and part of volume two.

Distraction

“Miharu-kun?”

No response; not a twitch.

“Miharu-kun.”

Still nothing. Black hair hung messily over the bandages across one eye, making it impossible to see if the other was open or closed.

“Miharu. Rokujou!”

Ah, that did it. Addressing him like Kumohira-sensei made him jump, dark head whipping up and good green eye widening. He seemed disoriented for a moment – so perhaps he had been sleeping, Kouichi thought a little guiltily – but then he caught sight of Kouichi and his face settled into his usual deadpan expression. “Kouichi,” he said. He sounded weary. “What time is it?”

Kouichi nodded to the tray he held with his good hand. “Lunchtime. I figured you’d rather eat in here.” He glanced at the pale figure on the bed at Miharu’s back. Miharu noticed the line of his gaze and something -- Kouichi couldn’t tell what – flickered across his face just briefly.

“Thanks.” Despite the listless tone, Miharu meant it, he could tell. “I’m not very hungry, though.”

There was something in the tone of his voice that made Kouichi pay attention. He couldn’t quite place it, but on impulse he came and sat down next to Miharu, trying not to jostle his cast as he set the tray between them. Miharu looked startled, but not unhappy. In fact, Kouichi thought that some of the tension eased a little from his face and frame. Trying to act as though he didn’t notice, he picked up an apple from the tray and took a bite. Miharu glanced at him for a moment, as if suspicious, and then picked up the small bowl of rice and began nibbling at it.

Kouichi searched for something to say. He hadn’t really spoken to Miharu since their… encounter with Yoite of the Kairoushuu. Words seemed inadequate and Miharu had quite clearly been telling them all to stay away, daring them to say something meant to be comforting. From an analytical perspective, this new side of Miharu was interesting. Miharu always tried so hard to seem like he didn’t care about anything or anyone, but Kouichi had never been fooled. And now he knew that he was right, because Miharu’s indifferent mask was cracking.

“Miharu-kun…” he said at last, more to break the silence than because he had thought of something to say. He kept his eyes carefully turned away, but the quiet plink of the chopsticks against the bowl halted, telling him that Miharu was listening. Kouichi tried to come up with something, anything, and finally it hit him. “Did you know that I met Kumohira-sensei when I was four?”

Kouichi held his breath. He felt the tension return full-force to the slight frame at his side, felt the suspicious look Miharu was giving him. But after a second Miharu let out a minute sigh and relaxed just a tiny bit. “No, I didn’t,” he said. He didn’t sound enthusiastic, but he didn’t sound hostile either and Kouichi took it as a good sign.

“It was the funniest thing, really…” Kouichi kept himself talking, talking about his first meeting with Kumohira-sensei, how he’d gotten to know the man after that, how he’d finally begun training under him. He kept his tone light, as though he was not speaking of the same man who lay so still and pale on the bed behind them. As he talked he felt Miharu continue to relax further, and eventually heard him set the rice bowl on the tray. Without pausing in his story, he picked up the tray and moved it to his other side, noting with satisfaction that the rice bowl was empty.

With the tray no longer between them, Kouichi feigned a stretch and inched just slightly closer to Miharu. A glance out of the corner of his eye assured him that Miharu noticed the movement but accepted it. The other boy had his legs drawn up and his arms linked loosely about them, his head resting on his knees. He looked tired, Kouichi observed, very tired. And pale. Almost as pale as Kumohira-sensei. His one visible green eye was not as shuttered as usual, and Kouichi caught a glimpse of what had flickered there before. This time he identified it, and his heart ached for his friend. It was fear, and grief, but mostly it was guilt. Miharu was blaming himself for what had happened.

Kouichi let none of his realization show in his voice, and forced himself to keep talking about inconsequential things. He wished he could show Miharu that he didn’t blame him, that it wasn’t his fault and that nobody thought it was, but he couldn’t find the words. Raimei was better at that sort of thing; maybe he should ask her to talk to Miharu later. In the meantime, all Kouichi could do was try and offer a distraction from the pain.

An hour or two passed in this way, and finally Kouichi ran out of words and they sat in silence for a while. Outside the room he could hear the Fuuma nin moving around, but such noises seemed distant in the quiet of this room. More important was the almost inaudible sound of Kumohira-sensei’s breathing, which was shallow but steady. Kouichi closed his eyes to listen, leaning the back of his head against the bed. He wondered what Miharu was thinking, if he should keep talking or if —

A sudden weight landed on his shoulder with a soft “thump” and Kouichi opened his eyes. Looking down he saw Miharu’s dark head on his shoulder; Miharu had closed the gap between them and his arm just barely brushed Kouichi’s. Kouichi froze, unsure of what to do with this unexpected show of emotion.

“Miharu-kun?”

Miharu turned his face into Kouichi’s shoulder and one hand came up as if to cling to him, but then closed into a fist and was lowered. He just barely made out Miharu’s words, muffled and very soft. “Just… stay here for a minute. Will you?”

Kouichi stared at the top of Miharu’s head for a moment. He understood. Miharu was almost flat-out asking him for reassurance, for comfort, because he was still just a kid – funny how Kouichi thought of Miharu that way when they were the same age – and he had been thrust into a position that he didn’t want and shouldn’t have, in a world he didn’t know. It wasn’t right, and for an instant Kouichi felt a surge of useless anger at the cruelty of it. Miharu wasn’t a savior, he was just a thirteen-year-old boy with a terrifying power inside him; a boy at once fragile and terribly strong.

Kouichi sighed softly, feeling inadequate. Kumohira-sensei was who Miharu really needed, or even Raimei with her way with words. Yet, Miharu was asking him. Doing his best to answer was the least, the very least, Kouichi could do for his friend.

“Okay, Miharu-kun,” he said at last. Without really thinking about it, he reached over with his good arm and rested his hand atop Miharu’s bent head, threading his fingers through the soft strands of his hair. If he felt the tears soaking into the fabric of his shirt he gave no sign.

“I’ll stay here.”

:: owari ::

I should be shot for coming up with a title like that. Shot, I say! D:

Happy Easter!

kmckernie@gmail.com — Sun, 08 Apr 2007 16:08:18 GMT

Happy Easter, dear f-list!!!

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He is risen!

Hope everyone has a wonderful day, however you celebrate it. :D

To my writer friends: a question!

kmckernie@gmail.com — Fri, 30 Mar 2007 03:38:24 GMT

Fortunately, I think "my writer friends" includes just about everybody on my flist. :P

Anyway, I just want y'all's opinion/suggestions on something. I have an OC, Gabriel, for my upcoming historical fiction series and I have finally decided, more or less, exactly what he looks like. As a reference, I am using Jared Leto because he has exactly the "look" that I'm going for - immensely attractive (most of the time :P), but in a very unusual, nonclassical way. Gabriel doesn't look exactly like him, of course, but the face shape and basic features are right.

Soooo, I wondered if you could help me figure out how to describe his features and face. Not that I want you to do my work for me, of course, but I think that suggestions and thoughts from talented people such as yourselves might be helpful. ;) I've got a few pictures beneath the cut for you to look at.

Any thoughts and suggestions would be much appreciated!!

Well.... dagnabbit.

kmckernie@gmail.com — Mon, 26 Mar 2007 17:24:56 GMT

Heh, almost cursed there. I'm so bad. :O

Anyway. So! My first week of work went pretty darn well, all things considered. Thank you so much for the congrats and wishes of good luck! I'm still a bit overwhelmed with all the information I have to keep track of - none of it's hard, but there's a LOT of it! - but that was already getting much better by Friday.

This week, however, ought to be, uh... a little more exciting, though, I guess you could say. I'm going to be working every day TIL SATURDAY starting tomorrow, for a total of 30 HOURS this week!!! O_o;;;; Today is my only real free day to write and catch up on schoolwork. Tomorrow I have classes til about 3, then work at 5 til 9. Wednesday it's 4-9, Thursday it's 2-9, Friday it's 10-4 with a four-hour dance class starting at 6, and Saturday it's 10-6.

Dear Lord I'm going to be exhausted. I mean, seriously. I realize that this is real life for adults and that now that I'm 18 I am legally obliged to deal with it, but 30 hours is still a lot for a student!! I don't think my schedule will usually be this bad, though. I believe the reason for it is that one of my coworkers left suddenly, and she was, um, kind of important. O_o So now we all have to fill in for her, and there are more new people than regulars! Plus, another lady is leaving in two weeks. Good grief, maybe my timing was really bad....

Actually, you know, despite all my melodrama I'm not that upset. I mean, I'm bummed that I won't be able to do much writing (especially when I'm behind on bunnyyyyy's Tokoharu as it is, ack), but just think... my paycheck's gonna be huge!! Well, comparatively, anyway. :P

Okay, that's all for now. Gotta get some biology and geometry done before I can write. *sigh*

ETA: Mood icon! That's, like, my favorite part in Saiyuki Reload. XD

crosses fingers

kmckernie@gmail.com — Mon, 19 Mar 2007 19:12:59 GMT

All righty, gotta get ready to go to my first day at work/training! Wish me luck; I actually am a little nervous now. :P

Squeeee!

kmckernie@gmail.com — Sun, 18 Mar 2007 02:55:27 GMT

First of all: got a call from the manager at the Christian bookstore, and I have the job!!! I start Monday and it pays more than my old one, which is a plus. X3 Wai! I'm so excited. I really like that place, so hopefully I'll enjoy my job.

Also:

Happy St. Patrick's Day!!!

Yay!

kmckernie@gmail.com — Fri, 16 Mar 2007 02:26:12 GMT

Whew, things are finally back to normal. Well, just about. Katie was able to come back from the hospital early yesterday evening, and she's feeling much better although she's still sick. But it's just so great to have her and my mom home at last!! I can't believe how stressful it was without them. O_o

The driving went great - call me a complete nut, but I found parallel parking to be lots of fun! My instructor couldn't figure out why I can parallel park, back in, drive backwards in a straight line and a curve and do a three-point turn all fine, but I cannot pull into a regular perpendicular parking spot. I'm slightly better coming from the right, too, which is odd. :P Oh well. At least I'm done with that! Well, almost - we had to cancel my driver's test today because we weren't sure if my mom would be home to take me, so we have to reschedule that. But that's okay.

The job interview went great too! Shockingly, I wasn't at all nervous, even though I was questioned by the manager and the owner at once!! O_o But everyone there knew I had been sick and were extremely nice. I got to chat a bit with all of them and the owner hugged me when I left. :D I'm fairly confident I got the job, and the guy I know there, J, told me that my chances are pretty good. YAY!! It will be so nice to have money to buy books and manga and anime and stuff, you have no idea. XD

So let's see, what else... Writing is frustrating me at the moment. I've got tons and tons of ideas - too many, in fact!! - but none of them are transfering from my head to paper. Argh. Maybe this is a sign that I should do some reading and icon making instead. Yeah, I like that idea... XP

Thank you SO very much for all the prayers and encouragement! They truly helped immensely. I hope you're all having a great week!! *hugs*

Aaagh.

kmckernie@gmail.com — Tue, 13 Mar 2007 23:17:11 GMT

My gosh, we just can't catch a break. No sooner am I up and running around then Katie, my 14-year-old sister, gets diagnosed with pneumonia and sent to the hospital. She's been there since yesterday afternoon and they said today that she'll probably have to stay for another couple of days. Of all weeks for this to happen!! So my dad's stuck working from home and I'm stuck watching my 8-year-old sister (who actually has been really good, I must admit)... We had to cancel my driver's test on Thursday (dagnabbit) but hopefully we'll somehow manage to get in the driving instruction and job interview tomorrow.

Ugh, I'm so tired. I had to update the whole family last night, relay info to friends, tell the one friend we couldn't drive her home, ask another friend's mom to drive me to class... I did, at least, get to hang out at classes all day with my friends, which I hadn't been able to do for a while. So that was nice. And my mom got to come home and hang out for a few minutes, so I did get to see her. But I'm seriously exhausted now, and I'll be all by myself with the 8-year-old until my dad gets back from the hospital in like... two hours.

Is it really, really childish to have burst into tears as soon as my mom left a few minutes ago?? ;_______;

*sigh* Guess I better go check on Kimmy. She's playing outside and it got awfully quiet.... If y'all could pray for my sister, or just spare her a thought, I'd really appreciate it. She's been pretty out of it, but she is scared to death of doctors and needles so once she's more awake she'll be pretty upset. Although our pastor and youth pastor came to visit her and pray with her today, which I think made her feel better.

Anyway. Hugs to all of you!

fanfic request #3 :: tsubasa for bunnyyyyy :: ch 3/6

kmckernie@gmail.com — Mon, 12 Mar 2007 17:38:27 GMT

SO sorry for the long delay!!! After procrastinating the first week I was totally knocked out by the flu the next. But I can at least assure you that there will be no more delays from now on, as long as I can help it. I may even get the next chapter or two done early to make up for lost time. Maybe. ;3

At any rate, I have to warn you that this chapter is unbeta'd!! I reread through it myself but you know it's hard to catch things when you know what you were trying to say. Your mind sort of inserts things to complete your thought. If that makes sense... ^^;;

Anyway! Enough rambling, on to the chapter.

Title: Tokoharu ~ Eternal Spring
Requestee: bunnyyyyy
Series: Tsubasa RESERVoir CHRoNiCLE
Character(s)/Pairings: Syaoran/Sakura; Fujitaka, Fai, Kurogane, Tomoyo, Touya, Yukito, Clow, Yuuko and Ashura (of Celes) to make brief appearances
Rating: PG (rating may go up in future chapters)
Summary: Syaoran is a cold, lonely Prince; Sakura is a warm, cheerful peasant girl. Perhaps opposites really do attract, or perhaps they aren't truly opposites after all... [AU]

Tokoharu :: Everlasting Spring
Chapter Three :: Kaihyou

As it turned out, Syaoran’s alarm was justified: the girl did indeed have a fever, which over the course of that night turned into a rather severe chill. Fortunately, however, it did not worsen beyond that and Gensai assured him that provided she was monitored carefully, it was in no danger of doing so. This eased Syaoran’s initial panic, but it only increased his concern. Royal duties kept him busy throughout the following days, but he took care to visit the girl at least once a day for an hour or so. Sometimes she was delirious, muttering unintelligibly or even once, to his dismay, crying in her sleep.

The fever did not abate for three days, and the cough lingered a full week. But it was on the fourth day that Syaoran finally learned her name: Sakura. Once she was able to stay awake and coherent, his visits lengthened and they were soon talking for hours at a time. He admitted to himself that she fascinated him; she was so utterly unlike anyone he had ever met. She told him, in her soft, light voice, of her small village far from the capital, of her late father’s swordsmithy which her older brother had taken on with the help of her father’s former apprentice. “They must be terribly worried,” she’d said tearfully, the first day she’d spoken about them.

Syaoran had immediately agreed to her request to send a letter informing her brother of her whereabouts, of course. Her village lay on the other side of the mountains, however, and the pass had been blocked with snow the day after he’d found her. It would probably take two weeks, at least, to reach them by the longer lowland rout, but he’d sent his swiftest messenger.

After a few days Syaoran told Sakura in turn of his own late father, of his mother and his life at the palace. She was terribly easy to talk to, he discovered, and he soon found himself sharing more and more with her, more than he’d ever shared with anyone. Several times, in fact, he had to reign himself in to keep from being dangerously open with her. Despite her smile and her sunny kindness, trusting people was a weakness he could not afford, in his position. It was surprisingly difficult with her, though. He found that he wanted badly to trust her, and resisting the desire to do so grew more challenging each day he spoke with her.

Two weeks had now passed since he’d rescued Sakura, and the days since her awakening had gone by swift and unnoticed with the quiet comfort of their routine to brighten each one. Life at Court was no longer boring and uncertain, and the novel pleasure of having someone to speak comfortably with began to affect Syaoran himself, easing his constant tension and softening his moods. He had never really had a friend before, and even though he knew it was dangerous, Syaoran knew that he had found one in Sakura.

The change in their Prince’s manner had not gone unnoticed by the courtiers in the Palace, and he was not surprised when a servant came to summon him to his mother’s withdrawing room one morning as he was on his way to visit Sakura. Feeling lighter than he could remember since his father’s death, Syaoran was not even annoyed by the request, although he had a fairly good idea of what his mother had to say.

As the servant bowed and announced him, shutting the doors of the chamber behind them, Syaoran’s suspicions were confirmed upon seeing the Chamberlain standing beside the Queen. He braced himself, but refused to let his good mood dissipate so easily. “You called for me, Mother?” he said pleasantly. “What is it?”

Emi was twisting the wedding ring on her finger in agitation; it occurred to him that she had been doing that often of late. “Syaoran,” she said briskly, “I have news for you.”

Syaoran’s eyes narrowed at the undertone in her voice—he could not quite place it, but his wariness increased. “What news?” he asked finally, when it seemed that she was waiting for a response.

The Queen straightened and looked him in the eye. “We have received word this morning from Princess Li-Mei,” she said. “She has decided to come visit our Court. She will be here tomorrow.”

Syaoran realized that he was gaping and hastily closed his mouth, but the shock was still plain on his face. “Visit?” he repeated rather dazedly. “But why would she do that?”

“Her message said that she wishes to finalize the terms of the engagement contract in person.”

Syaoran began to recover from his bewilderment, anger stirring faintly in his chest. “But I said that I would not negotiate further until the month of mourning is over,” he said, his voice growing stronger by the second. “She can negotiate no terms without my consent, and I will not give it until the end of the mourning period, as I have stated before.”

“Syaoran,” Emi returned sharply, “you have no choice in the matter. Xiang is a far more powerful nation than ours, and the Princess is of a volatile temperament. She could raze our little kingdom to the ground in an instant if she wished!”

“Then I shall explain things to her myself when she arrives.” Syaoran was firm. “Surely she will understand; she lost both parents herself not long ago. I will make sure that she understands that I have no wish to slight her with my decision.”

Emi looked at him with an unreadable expression for a moment, and then turned away abruptly. “We will speak of this later. You may go now.”

Puzzled but relieved, Syaoran bowed and turned to leave. But as he reached the door his mother’s voice made him pause. “By the way,” she said with poorly attempted casualness, “when will that peasant girl be leaving? I hear that she is well recovered now.”

Gritting his teeth and feeling an inexplicable flicker of defensive anger on Sakura’s behalf, Syaoran replied over his shoulder. “Her name,” he said evenly, “is Sakura, and she will be staying here until the mountain roads are cleared enough for her to return home.”

Emi sniffed in distaste. “Well, you will have to stop spending so much time with her. We have much to do before the Princess’ arrival.”

Syaoran nodded shortly and left before she could add anything else, shutting the door firmly behind him. As his footsteps faded down the hall, Emi turned to stare at the door with narrowed eyes. “Jiro,” she murmured. “Keep your eyes upon my son today. Inform me of his movements.” Jiro bowed low in acknowledgement.

:: :: ::

Syaoran’s boots thudded against the marble floors as he strode swiftly down the hall and away from his mother’s chambers. He headed towards the section of the Palace in which he guessed that he would find Sakura, and was proved correct. Still pale but fully recovered now, Sakura had been out of bed since yesterday and had immediately insisted that she do something to earn her keep. Thus, he found her scrubbing the floors of the hallway, clad in the white and wine red dress of the royal maids. He found himself relaxing slightly just upon seeing her.

Sakura was so intent on her work that she did not notice his approach until he stopped just in front of her. She looked up and the surprise on her face quickly melted into genuine delight. “Prince Syaoran!” she cried, jumping to her feet and bobbing a hasty curtsey while she dried her hands on her apron. He had told her repeatedly that such reverence was unnecessary, but she was more stubborn than she looked. “I was hoping you’d come by this morning. What’s wrong?” Her smile faded as she noticed the displeasure he had thought he was hiding.

Opening his mouth, Syaoran paused and caught himself. He had been about to pour everything out to her, and the hallway was not the place. He glanced at her, made up his mind, and grabbed her hand, tugging with gentle force. “Come with me.”

“Eh?” Sakura let out an involuntary murmur of surprise but did not protest as the Prince led her briskly down halls and through doors until they stepped outside and she found herself in one of the private gardens. It was one of the smaller ones, with just a few dormant rose beds and skillfully trimmed hedges surrounded a little stone fountain at the center. The water was frozen now and the entire garden was covered with a layer of snow that only added to its beauty. Its stone walls, overgrown with snow-dusted ivy, gave the little garden a peaceful, secure feeling and the air was pleasantly cool, sheltered from the worst of the wind.

Syaoran smiled to himself upon seeing Sakura’s obvious enchantment, and he led her around the fountain to the little bower set against the far wall. They sat down side by side on the bench and remained for a moment in companionable silence as Sakura continued to gaze around the garden with wonder. “Do you like it?” asked Syaoran at length.

Sakura nodded enthusiastically. “Oh, yes!” she breathed. “It’s lovely! I didn’t know there were gardens like this around the Palace.”

“This was my father’s favorite,” Syaoran explained, looking out around the quiet little enclosure and feeling the familiar muted pain of his father’s absence. “He used to come out here often to think or to read. I do too, now.”

Sakura was watching his face with concern, sensing his mood. But she did not speak, for which he was grateful; after another period of silence he told her about the meeting with his mother, his engagement to the Xiangian princess and her impending visit. Now that he had cooled down somewhat, he understood more clearly what exactly had upset him so. He disliked being caught off-guard, for one thing, and the news was a shock.

The real issue, however, was the fact that his mourning for his father was being ignored. It disturbed him, even though he knew that his mother’s logic was inescapable. He realized now that he had expected her to support him in this, since she was still mourning as well; that she did not was somewhat troubling, despite her reasoning. Surely she understood his feelings on the matter—how could she not? He knew for a fact that she had loved his father at least as deeply as he had. It was true that she was not an especially outgoing woman in regards to her emotions, but he could not believe her to be truly as cold as she was acting.

Looking away as he finished his explanation, Syaoran sighed. “I know I’m being childish,” he said, “but—”

A light touch to his hand stopped him and brought his gaze around to Sakura, surprised. “You’re not childish at all,” she argued, green eyes earnest. “It’s so soon after your father’s death. It’s perfectly natural to be upset when you must miss him so much!”

“But,” Syaoran protested weakly, “a Prince cannot afford to be—”

She cut him off again with uncharacteristic firmness. “You’re a person too, aren’t you?” she demanded. “You aren’t just a Prince, you’re also a human being with feelings and fears just like everyone else! If you want to cry, or get angry, then you should!” Her voice softened slightly. “There must be someone here you can trust enough to talk to.”

Stunned by her outburst, Syaoran stared at her a moment. “I trust you,” he responded finally. As he said it he realized that it was true.

Sakura blushed and glanced down briefly. “There must be others, too,” she said. “There are so many people at the Palace!”

Syaoran snorted. “All my father’s best men left after his death or were removed by my mother, and they were the only ones I could trust. I’m alone at Court now.”

“Well…” Sakura chewed her lip thoughtfully, then brightened. “What about Gensai-sensei? He seems trustworthy. His assistant, too—Rikichi-san.”

Syaoran was surprised, but thinking about it he found that he did trust the two. They were perhaps the only servants of his father left in the Palace, but he had rarely thought of them before now. His father had always trusted them, though, and Gensai-sensei had been a friend of the Royal Family for as long as he could remember. “You’re right, Sakura,” he conceded, smiling at her. “Thank you for reminding me. You see, I was being childish,” he added with a slightly embarrassed chuckle.

Sakura giggled, and he found himself smiling further at the sound. “Well, maybe a little,” she allowed. “But I think that’s all right, just for a moment.”

Warm, relaxing quiet fell for a little while, broken only by the soft rustling of the ivy in the breeze. Suddenly Sakura startled Syaoran out of his thoughts as she jumped to her feet with a gasp. “The floors!” she cried. “I was cleaning them!” She hurriedly brushed off her skirts. “I have to be getting back before I get in trouble.”

Feeling guilty, Syaoran nodded. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I dragged you out here just to bother you with my problems.”

Sakura threw him a beaming smile over her shoulder. “Don’t be silly!” she retorted. “It’s never a bother when you want to talk to me. I’m glad you did. Please don’t hesitate to come to me again, if you need to. I mean, if you want to. I know I can’t really help, but…” Sakura paused, blushing, and finally just shook her head and bobbed a brief curtsey. “Anyway, I really have to go back. Goodbye!”

Syaoran watched her hurry inside with a smile. Somehow, he felt that things were not quite so dark now.

:: to be continued… ::

Glossary:

kaihyou :: thaw
-san :: everybody knows this one, right? okay. XD

Free at last!!!

kmckernie@gmail.com — Mon, 12 Mar 2007 04:49:19 GMT

Oh, finally! I was able to get up and out of the house for the first time in over a week today!! I've actually been feeling rather better since about Friday, but I wasn't quite well enough to go out until today. And I'm still napping every day! I cannot believe how nasty the flu is; the doctors weren't kidding! And my whole family got it, too, although they're all better now except for my sister Kate, whose flu turned into multiple sinus and ear infections. But she's at least better than she was yesterday, so hopefully she'll be back up and around soon.

Thanks so much for the good wishes and prayers, everyone!! They made me feel immensely better throughout the worst of it. :) I sincerely hope none of you ever get the flu yourselves. O_o

*hugs*

So yes, I got to go go-kart racing with my friends' church youth group, which was awesome. That's so much fun. We also made plans to hopefully go see the movie Amazing Grace on Tuesday, after class and before B and V have worship practice. V's friend N is in town from CA this week so she can come along too, which is wonderful because she's great.

Ohmigosh, what a week I've got planned. Tuesday is classes and hopefully a movie. Wednesday is driving from 1-4 and then a job interview at 5:30, after which I have to practice parking with my car. Then on Thursday I have my driver's test, and on Friday I have a dance class!! It's a good thing I didn't really do anything this weekend and I have nothing planned for tomorrow, so I should be 100% in time for all that. O_o

Anyway, hope everyone else has a wonderful (but hopefully less busy!) week!! <3 <3 <3

Aww~~~rrright.

kmckernie@gmail.com — Sun, 04 Mar 2007 20:13:45 GMT

Whoohoo, I'm down to 98.8 degrees!! Of course, now I have a horrible hacking cough and stuffy/drippy nose on top of everything else, but I'm amazed by how much better I feel just without a high fever. Maybe the 11 hours of sleep I got is to thank. At any rate, I have to celebrate while I can, because the day is young and the ibuprofen's gonna wear off eventually...

Life really DOES imitate art!!

kmckernie@gmail.com — Sun, 04 Mar 2007 06:46:11 GMT

Heh. A few days after giving the Cafe K boys the flu and fevers of 103 degrees, I come down with the flu and a fever of 103 degrees!! I find it terribly ironic. I remember when this used to happen sometimes when I tortured Frodo with some illness or another. Perhaps the characters come out for retribution. :P

Seriously, though, I don't think I've ever had the flu before, and if I'd known what it was like I would've given Maki and the others something else. Nobody deserves this!! I haven't felt this terrible in years. A fever of 103 is nothing to sneeze at, no pun intended. In fact, that could be said of fevers in general, especially for someone like me for whom normal body temperature is just slightly warm as it is. Even with the ibuprofen and flu medication, my fever can't seem to get below 99.2 and it's been hovering at 101-102 all day, ugh. Yes, I'm obsessively taking my temperature every five minutes now. It's really quite sad. XP

Oh, but the one thing I didn't give the Cafe K boys is the irregular heartbeat I've been experiencing since I got sick yesterday. It feels like my heart skips a bit every so often, which if you've never experienced it is rather uncomfortable and kind of frightening. It was because of that that we went into Urgent Care today, when the extremely nice Doctor told us there was nothing to worry about, but yes, the fever was aggravating it.

So yes, that's my exciting news of this week. Getting the flu is really a pain for several reasons: (a) it drastically hinders my ability to get on the computer for more than, say, 10 minutes at a time, thereby making finishing up the next chapter of Tokoharu very difficult, and (b) I will miss both my Timothy classes on Tuesday, and driving on Wednesday, because I might be contagious for seven days or more!! *wails* I'm crossing my fingers that I'll be clear to go see the movie Amazing Grace (which, ohmigosh, is the best movie EVER, for those who haven't seen it) with my friends on Friday.

Okay, I think that's enough whining for now. Just wanted to inform everybody in case I'm scarce around here for the next week or so. Now I'm going to lie down, I think the ibuprofen's wearing off already... X_x

Yay, meme!

kmckernie@gmail.com — Fri, 02 Mar 2007 06:29:09 GMT

Courtesy of bakabokken. Awesome, a fanfic meme! Don't see many of those. (Or at least I don't. :P)

1.) Is there another fanfiction writer you see as a rival?

Umm... everyone? XP No, nobody I can think of. I mostly write for fandoms with, like, no existing fanfic anyway these days so there's no one to compare them with. :P Back in my LotR days though.... ;)

2.) A writer that inspired you?

Ohmigosh, what a question. As far as fanfic writers, the ones that leap out at me are shirebound, budgielover and obeliamedusa for LotR stuff (they are amazing). As far as anime/manga fanfics go, um, everyone on my favorites list at ffnet? Actually, that's outdated now, although everyone there is still awesome. But I've got quite a few more that won't fit on the list. I'll have to go pruning one of these days...

3.) Do you have a favorite reviewer?

Since I've only begun writing anime/manga fanfics - plus, they're mostly oneshots - recently I really have no regular reviewers yet. :< But back in the LotR fandom obeliamedusa, esamen and shirebound were always especially helpful. <3

4.) What fandoms do you read/write for?

Ack. What a LONG list this is, at least for reading. For reading, just glance at my interests for all my favorite titles. owo Writing is easier: thus far I've written for LotR, Nabari no Ou, 07-Ghost, Saiyuki, PeaceMaker Kurogane, Tsubasa RESERVoir CHRoNiCLE, Amatsuki, Scrapped Princess, Wolf's Rain, and Cafe Kichijouji.

5.) Considering hits and reviews and feedback, what is your greatest work? And is your favorite work different from your greatest?

This is funny. If I'm only counting my recent (anime/manga) fic under the name tath-chan, then my least favorite story is actually my most popular. It was a request fic, the kind of romance AU that I always swore I'd never write. I find it hilarious, but not surprising, that it has turned out to be my most popular fanfic by a very large margin. Although then again, it's my only big multi-chaptered anime/manga fic, too, which is probably part of that.

As for LotR fanfic, though... I think that my most popular was AaSL, which was probably tied as my favorite with FotW. :3

6.) What is your favorite fanfiction of all time?

Ahaha, there's no way I can answer that. It changes all the time! I have lots of top favorites, though. "Adrift" and "Anchored" by obeliamedusa for LotR fic, "A Dog's Life" and "Keeping Face" by GreyLily for recent anime/manga fic, and I really couldn't tell you my top favorites from anime/manga fic I've read longer ago.

7.) Who is your favorite fanfiction writer?

Another unanswerable question! And again, just look at my favorites on ffnet, both under tath-chan and Tathar. And like I said, my list got full under tath-chan so there are probably dozens that deserve to be listed. My newest favorite, though, is arahyacinth, who writes some phenomenal anime/manga oneshots and runs the genfic archive Creative Genius. <3

8.) Ever read a fic you mourn for never being finished?

YESSS. Most particularly "A Rurouni's Guide to Idiocy" the name of whose author escapes me at the moment, and haku baikou's "Against a Sea of Troubles."

9.) Ever experience sadness for finishing a long story?

I haven't finished a long story in years, but I do remember sometimes feeling a little bittersweet over posting that last chapter. But like bakabokken said, the melancholy is usually brief and then my thoughts run more along the lines of "Great, one plot bunny done, 50 million to go..." X_x

10.) A fic writer you have seen improve over time?

I'm sure that I have, but none spring to mind right at this moment. moonsilverfic, perhaps.

11.) Do you think your writing has improved over time, or from early story to later story?

Gads, I hope so! And seeing as I first began writing fanfic when I was 13 (FIVE YEARS AGO OHMIGOSH), I am fairly certain that I have. ^^;;;

12.) Do you think you'll ever stop writing fanfiction, personally?

Honestly? Probably not. It's SUCH great practice for writing "real" fics, and just awesome for relaxing. It's one of my favorite things to do, seriously.

13.) Worst fic you have ever read?

Oh gosh, I don't know. There have been many, but usually I stop about halfway through the first chapter, so no names have stuck in my memory (thank goodness).

14.) Storylines you are tired of seeing?

Ugh. Highschool AUs (although I'm hypocritical and wrote one myself...), blatant self-insertion fics (does anyone like those, though?!), those hideous AUs in which the author sticks in a random female character (usually in a fandom like Samurai 7 in which there are, like, 2 female characters amongst a dozen guys) and proceeds to make every guy fall in love with her. For no reason. And usually it's just a thinly-veiled self-insertion fic. *shudder*

15.) Storylines you might like to see?

GEEEEEEN!!! Anime and manga fandoms desperately need more GOOD genfic. X_x I could also wish for a bit less angst and introspection and a bit more fluff and h/c. Yeah, I'm still a FrodoHealer at heart... XD

16.) Have you ever come across a respectable OC?

A few - actually, probably more than I realize. All of the OCs in Conspirator's "An Unexpected Lesson" were incredible, for example. OCs generally work better if they are not in danger of being even remotely possible as love interests, I find... Although that could just be me. :P

17.) When you review, do you admit to sometimes flaming?

Nope, nor do I intend to unless there are very specific extenuating circumstances.

18.) Any story plans tucked away for the future?

Shall I list them by fandom, or from biggest to smallest? X_X

19.) Fantasy or anime?

Oooh, both. Anime is winning, at the moment, but fantasy is a deep-rooted love of mine so they'll probably remain tied.

20.) Good friends among writers/readers?

Moreso amongst LotR writers and readers than those from anime and manga, but I'm proud to say that I do indeed have several very good friends. I really hope to make more in the anime/manga fanfic realm, especially. :3

21.) Do you ever use poetry, lyrics, or quotes to emphasize your story?

Very rarely, but I have done so. Not full-blown songfic, though.

22.) An author you miss who has stopped writing or moved on to other things?

Oh, several, alas. ;_;

23.) Ever met anyone from your fandom circles?

Not yet! obeliamedusa and I have been plotting to do so for literally years, but this year might finally be it. I would love to meet everyone, though, someday! (I'd also like to live in a castle, but hey, dreams are good! ;))

24.) Related to previous question, is there anyone you'd like to meet someday?

As I just said, most definitely! I'd love to meet as many of my writing and reading buddies as possible!

25.) Where/how do most of your ideas/plots/storylines come to you?

I really don't think there's any method to them. The two places they probably most often come to me are in the shower and in bed, but they can and do happen anywhere. As for the how, that varies probably as much as the where. Just thinking about a series or character(s), watching or reading the series (well, duh), random "what if..." thoughts that usually spring from talking with my sister or other fans. Oh, and doing schoolwork almost never fails to give me inspiration. I get some of my best ideas when I'm supposed to be studying. ;)

26.) Ever written a self-insert?

Not seriously. There have been several "Silly Ficlets," as they were dubbed, though...

27.) Off the top of your head, a fic or author with great characterization?

Probably GreyLily, because WOW. Her Sanzo and Hakkai are absolutely spot-on. Most particularly in "Keeping Face," IMO. arahyacinth's got an amazing gift for characterization. I couldn't choose just one from the LotR fandom, though!!

28.) Ever written or thought about writing a lemon?

No way! Never will, either. Blech.

29.) Ever been introduced to a whole new fandom following the whims of a favorite author?

Probably not an entire fandom, but sometimes my interest in one has been revived by something a favorite author has written. Star Wars is a good example of that. I got into it purely because I adored the Qui Gon-Obi Wan fluff I was finding. Actually, that hasn't changed. I still have no interest whatsoever in the movies, but I love the fanfic. :P

30.) Do you like to write songfics?

Not really. I've written a couple while thinking or listening to a certain song, but I have not written an actual songfic and I don't think it likely that I will. Just not really my thing, though I have nothing against it.

31.) How do you feel about alternate universes?

On the WHOLE I'd say it's one of my least favorite genres, purely because it has the biggest gathering of terribly written fanfics. That being said, I have read several excellent AUs, and I've even written two myself. It really depends on the type of AU, and who is writing it. Generally speaking I avoid an AU if I'm not familiar with the author.

32.) Got a favorite alternate universe?

I don't think I've read any recently, so I couldn't tell you any off the top of my head.

33.) Do you believe you will ever write professionally?

Absolutely. I'm convinced that that's what I'm here to do, so someday I'm determined to do it. I've just got to get this spastic attention span of mine under control... D:

34.) Ever stay up to insane hours read/writing fanfiction?

WIMCL. WAAAAAAAAAY too many times to count, seriously.

Okay, that was fun, but I am still procrastinating Tokoharu. *wails*

fanfic request #5 :: amatsuki for infinite_beauty

kmckernie@gmail.com — Fri, 02 Mar 2007 02:42:49 GMT

No, I'm not procrastinating working on the next chapter of Tokoharu, I swear. ...Okay, so that's not true. Not entirely, anyway. I was working on it, but inspiration for infinite_beauty's request finally hit (after much brain-wracking), so I had to go with that.

infinite_beauty, I hope this is what you wanted. I tried to keep our trio as in-character as possible, but I'm not sure how successful I was as it's been a while since I last read the manga thoroughly. I hope you enjoy it, though! (And hopefully the bonding moment towards the end does not fall under your idea of "fluff." I tried. :P)

Title: Misery Loves Company
Requestee: infinite_beauty
Series: Amatsuki
Character(s)/Pairings: Toki, Kon, Kuchiha
Rating: G
Summary: "This is your fault, Toki." [gen]
WARNING: Un-beta'd. *cringe*

Misery Loves Company
“This is your fault, Toki.”

The accusation was met with an immediate yelp of protest. “It is not! How can you blame me for this?”

“It is too.” Kon sniffled—no, make that sniffed, because men did not sniffle. “Because you were the one who got sick first. If you hadn’t gone and gotten a fever and made me take care of you last night, I wouldn’t be sick now.”

“Is not. I didn’t ask you to take care of me, you know.” A rather pitiful little cough followed that assertion, and Toki burrowed deeper into his blankets with a shiver. A fire was crackling away in the grate by his head, but his chills persisted despite the heat.

“Is too. And yes, you did.” Kon shifted on his futon across from Toki, and his hoarse voice sounded profoundly smug. “You wouldn’t let go of my sleeve all night. I had to sleep on the floor!” He sneezed violently, as if to punctuate his statement.

“… Is not.” Under normal circumstances Toki would have been red to the roots of his hair, but with the feverish flush still present across his cheeks, any further color was indiscernible. Even so, Kon could probably sense the embarrassment coming off him in waves. He cleared his throat and tried to put some strength into his voice. “I was delirious. I can’t be held responsible for my actions when I’m delirious.”

Kon made a sputtering sound that might have been laughter, but it turned quickly into a fit of wracking coughs that made Toki wince in sympathy. Once he could breathe again, Kon doggedly returned to the argument. “Is too,” he croaked. He coughed once more and tried again. “Ah, kuso, this sucks.”

“Is not. But yeah, it does.”

“And it’s your fault.”

“Is NOT!”

Neither cared that their squabble was rapidly going from immature to downright childish, which was perhaps evidence of their feverish states of mind.

“Is too.”

“Not.”

“Too.”

Toki drew breath to make his expected rejoinder, but suddenly the door to their room slid open with a deafening bang and a slender shadow fell across them. “If you two don’t stop your inane argument right this second,” Kuchiha roared, “I am going to come in there and drown you both with your own tea!”

A girl’s voice really shouldn’t boom like that, Toki thought absently. Fortunately even his fever was not enough to make him voice that opinion out loud. Instead he responded with a meek, “Yes, ma’am. Hestartedit.” The last sentence was mumbled and audible only to the invalid in the futon across from him, he hoped.

Perhaps Kon’s fever was a little bit higher and had started to affect his brain, or maybe he was just too miserable to care. “Go away, Kuchiha,” he groaned. “Let me pick on the ahou in peace.” He sneezed. “There’s no more tea to drown us with, anyway.”

The sound of Kuchiha’s teeth grinding was audible as she entered the room and sat down between the two futons with a thump. “Listen, you brats,” she growled, “Shamon-sama hasn’t touched a drop of sake since yesterday. Do you know what that means?” Toki started to reply, but she answered her own question instead. “It means he’s worried about you two!”

On Kuchiha’s other side Toki could see Kon’s dark eyes, open now and watching her intently. Glancing up at her face himself Toki was surprised and confused to see the hint of a blush spreading across her cheeks. She was staring at the floor, avoiding both their gazes. “You guys can’t be wasting energy on your stupid fight when you’re supposed to be getting better,” she said, her voice softening.

“Kuchiha…” Toki was taken aback. Was she actually worried about them?

As if sensing his thoughts, Kuchiha snorted and folded her arms. “Not that I would waste my time worrying about two idiots like you,” she clarified. “I told Shamon-sama as much, but he’s an idiot too. He swears he won’t drink until you’re both completely recovered.”

Neither Kon nor Toki could think of a reply, and Kuchiha rose to her feet with a sigh and a rustle of her robes. “I’ll go make you some more tea.” She padded to the door but paused when she reached it. “Seriously,” she said, turning to speak over her shoulder, “hurry up and get better, both of you.” She let that hang in the air for the moment before adding, “Because Shamon-sama is driving me crazy. He’s even more obnoxious than usual when he’s sober.”

Apparently satisfied that she had made her point, Kuchiha started to close the door, but Toki spoke up before she could. “Kuchiha.” He coughed briefly, then propped himself up on one elbow to meet her eyes earnestly and smile. “Thank you.”

Kuchiha returned the smile full-force, a rare gesture that lit up her face. “You’re welcome.”

Feeling left out, Kon interrupted the bonding moment. “Yeah, yeah,” he mumbled, closing his eyes again. “Kuchiha, I thought you were”—he had to pause to sneeze a few times—“getting tea.”

For a second Kuchiha glared at him, and Toki feared that Kon was in for a beating, sick or not. But apparently Kon’s unusually gentle tone, at odds with his words, had not missed her attention and she smiled again, with genuine affection. “Coming right up, you ingrate.”

The door slid quietly shut behind her, and they heard her footsteps fading down the hall. Both were still feeling utterly miserable, but the silence that fell was comfortable nonetheless. Finally, Kon broke it.

“This really is your fault, you know.”

:: owari ::

Okay, back to Tokoharu, yes....

Fanfic :: Cafe Kichijouji :: Murphy's Law, Chapter 3/3 (Finished!)

kmckernie@gmail.com — Fri, 02 Mar 2007 00:43:34 GMT

Okay, so I have no real excuse for why this is late. I dunno, I guess I just didn't want to end it. XP

Title: Murphy's Law
Series: Cafe Kichijouji de (At Cafe Kichijouji)
Character(s)/Pairings: Jun, Maki, Minagawa, Tarou, Tokumi, the Boss
Rating: G
Summary: Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong. - Murphy's Law

Murphy's Law
Chapter Three
Miraculously, the next two days went by without any new calamities. Toku and Maki were still down with what was indeed the flu, and without them the Café seemed much quieter. If he were really honest with himself, Tarou would admit that he kind of missed the noise; it kept things interesting, at least. But he would lock himself in Maki’s room for an hour before he admitted that.

Sadly, neither Tarou nor the Boss were in the mood to enjoy the peacefulness, burdened as they were with the terrible knowledge that they were pretty much doomed. But while the latter seemed wearily resigned to his fate, Tarou had resolved to go down fighting—which simply meant that his normal paranoia increased twofold. Twice a day he dosed himself with every vitamin supplement he had, and he was essentially living on fruits, vegetables, and purified water. The backs of his hands were red and cracked after washing them in-between every order for two days, and he was starting to grow seriously concerned that the skin might literally be scrubbed off. Then he decided that he could live with such a sacrifice if it meant he didn’t get sick.

Jun and Minagawa, of course, remained obnoxiously unbothered by the whole thing. Tarou was absolutely positive that the two must be indestructible or something. After all, Jun had helped Toku get Maki home when he’d first gotten sick, and therefore should have been showing symptoms at the same time Toku had. Instead, the teenager had yet to do so much as sniffle. He seemed as good-humored as ever, too, although he did remark that it was kind of boring without the entertainment of watching Toku and Maki’s unfailing acts of stupidity and subsequent beatings. Tarou had no reply to that.

Minagawa was perhaps a bit more creepy than usual, which made Tarou half-jokingly wonder if he was somehow behind it all. Maybe he was punishing Maki and Toku for pilfering supplies again. He had almost worked up the nerve to ask Minagawa about it straight out, but the smile the chef had turned his way had been positively sinister and sent him backpedaling hurriedly. Finding out the truth wasn’t worth bringing punishment upon himself, if Minagawa really was the cause of the situation. Better to be safe than sorry.

So things continued peacefully—if warily—until the inevitable finally happened, and the Boss was suddenly beset with a sneezing fit while he checked out a customer. Tarou, serving as a floor waiter in Maki’s place, heard it from where he stood, across the room taking someone’s order. He froze briefly, then finished taking the order and excused himself with a cheery smile. He walked very calmly and deliberately back to the Boss’s office, where he had retreated to blow his nose. Tarou stood in the doorway, feeling strangely unalarmed.

“Shall I close the Café?” he inquired mildly. He noticed then that a headache was building right above his eyes, and pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger.

The Boss groaned, tossing the tissue into the trash can and leaning back in his chair. He started to speak, was interrupted by an explosive round of sneezes, and tried again afterwards. “I don’t think we have a choice,” he said resignedly, dabbing at his nose with another tissue. “Even if I left you in charge it would be too much for just the three of you to handle.” He sighed. “Go ahead, Tarou. Better close up shop, and give us a week, just to be safe.”

Tarou echoed his sigh and nodded, turning unenthusiastically to the task of shooing everyone out and explaining things. After the door had closed behind the last customer, Tarou flipped the OPEN sign over to CLOSED and left a note below it explaining that the Café would remain so until approximately a week from today due to—he was strongly tempted to write “plague,” but resisted in favor of the milder “illness.” Task done, he straightened up and wearily assigned Jun to clearing the tables and stacking the chairs while he leaned his back against the counter, rubbing at the persistent ache across his forehead and absently clearing a dry throat.

To distract himself, Tarou mused on how much he could legally take out of Maki’s pay for this. It was only right, he reasoned, since it was entirely Maki’s fault that the Café would be closed and thereby lose seven days’ worth of money. He would have to speak to the Boss about this…

“Tarou-san,” Jun called from across the room, “where do you want — ah, Maki-san!”

Tarou was brought out of his thoughts abruptly, and he looked up to find the object of them breezing in from the kitchen. His hair was washed and pulled back in his usual artfully messy ponytail, his face had regained all of its color, and he was grinning in a way that Tarou thought seemed immensely self-satisfied. It was obviously unnecessary to ask if he felt better.

“Ossu!” he said cheerily, glancing around to include even Tarou in the greeting. “Did everyone miss me?” Minagawa chose that moment to materialize soundlessly beside Tarou and both he and Maki jumped. But apparently Maki’s high spirits could not be shaken even by the chef’s sudden appearance. “Yo, Minagawa. You look… healthy.”

“Welcome back, Maki-chan,” Minagawa returned, smiling a little less eerily and a little more warmly than was his wont. “So do you.”

“Aa, completely cured!” Maki laughed. “And I didn’t even have to go to the doctor. I guess my immune system’s pretty tough.” He scratched the back of his head and sighed. “Man, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but it’s good to be back.”

There was no doubting Maki’s sincerity, and Tarou might have been touched had not the dryness of his throat begun to show signs of turning horrifically painful. The headache had not abated, either, and he recognized it now as the pressure headache caused by blocked sinuses. He straightened up, stepping away from the counter slowly. “Maki…” he began, but was cut off the next second by a coughing fit that came out of nowhere and doubled him over.

And it hurt! Forget beginning to show signs of turning horrifically painful, his throat felt like it was on fire. When he could breathe again, he looked up through watering eyes to see Maki, Jun and Minagawa staring at him. The chef was smiling. “Oh my, Tarou-chan,” he said smoothly. “That sounded terrible.”

“Are you okay, Tarou-san?” asked Jun, actually looking mildly concerned. “You look a little pale.”

“That’s not good, Tarou-chan. Have you been eating properly? You should be taking better care of yourself when there are so many germs around, you know. Ne, Jun?”

“That’s right, you have to be extra careful. Maybe you haven’t been eating enough fruits and vegetables?”

Tarou felt the sudden urge to cry. And then Maki opened his mouth. “Wow, Tarou,” he said with a grin that was not at all sympathetic. “So the god of disinfectants and handsoap can get sick just as easily as the rest of us mortals, huh? Serves you right for not being nicer to me when I was—AGH!”

Tarou was grimly pleased to find that the flu did not seem to impair his ability to beat Maki senseless; it was a happy coincidence that there was a tray on the counter right behind him. He preferred his mop when given the choice, but a tray did just as well in a pinch. It made the most satisfying clang when it connected with Maki’s head, too.

Jun and Minagawa exchanged a glance as they prudently stepped back to give Tarou enough room; they hadn’t seen him quite this homicidal in a while. The teenager frowned. “It really isn’t good for Tarou-san to be exerting himself like this,” he remarked as another clang was followed by a howl of pain. “He’s going to give himself a fever.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.” Minagawa winked and pulled out two of his straw dolls. “Now, now,” he raised his voice over the noise, “play nice, children.”

Sheltering in his office, the Boss steadfastly ignored the crashes and yelps of pain—interspersed with coughing and sneezing—from outside. Eventually his employees would remember that the Café was closed and they could all go home now. He hoped. With a grimace, he blew his nose and rubbed at the headache above his eyes.

A particularly loud thump was followed at last by dead silence. Then he heard Jun’s bland voice. “Ah, I think they both passed out.”

The Boss sighed and wondered if it would be legal not to pay Maki at all this month.

:: owari ::

So there you have it. The last chapter was rather shorter than I'd wanted, but once again there didn't seem much point in stretching it out unnecessarily. :\ Thank you to those who reviewed and enjoyed it! Hopefully I'll be writing more Cafe K fic in the near future. :3

fanfic request #4 :: peacemaker kurogane for jinsai

kmckernie@gmail.com — Wed, 28 Feb 2007 17:33:44 GMT

Hee, check it out, I'm on a roll. XD Another request done - this one's for jinsai! It turned out a little more... melancholy-ish, at first, than I intended, but I hope you enjoy it. :3

Title: Tea Ceremony
Requestee: jinsai
Series: Peacemaker Kurogane
Character(s)/Pairings: Tatsunosuke, Souji
Rating: G
Summary: It was an odd thing, really, Tatsu thought as he watched Souji’s face easing with genuine mirth, the way their friendship had sprung up since he and Tetsu had joined the Shinsengumi...

Tea Ceremony
Tatsunosuke padded down the wooden engawa, carefully balancing the tray in his hands and trying to be as quiet as he possibly could as he reached his destination and knelt in front of the rice-paper door. He paused for a second, listening, but no sound came from the room, which was odd. Its occupant must be asleep. Just in case, he kept his voice soft as he called, “Sumimasen.”

At first it seemed as if he would get no answer, that the room’s occupant really was asleep. But then a response drifted out. “Come in, Tatsunosuke-san.” The voice was quiet and sounded bone-weary, but nonetheless it was as lilting as ever and Tatsunosuke felt some of the tension leave his shoulders. He slid open the door and carried the tray inside, setting it down cautiously and pulling the door gently shut behind him.

It was only once he’d knelt beside the tray that he finally looked up. Okita Souji was sitting up on his futon, looking as white as his yukata but with his ever-present smile firmly in place. His long hair was a bit ruffled, as if he had just woken up. Tatsunosuke hoped he had; the first unit captain had not been sleeping well since the Ikeda-ya affair almost a week ago. Saizou was dozing comfortably beside him, though he cracked an eye open at Tatsu’s entrance.

Souji’s smile had widened upon seeing him, and his purple eyes were warm. “Tatsunosuke-san!” he said, with a cheerfulness Tatsunosuke was pleased and rather touched to know was genuine. “I was just thinking about you, actually, and — what have you got there?” He interrupted himself to peer with childlike curiosity at the tray.

Tatsu smiled, a now-involuntary response to Souji’s good humor. “Just some tea, Okita-san,” he said, pouring it into one of the cups he’d brought. “I got some of my favorite blend in town today and remembered that you had said you wanted to try it.”

Souji straightened up, delight bringing some color into his pale face. “Ohh, perfect!” he exclaimed, his voice just slightly hoarse. “Tea is best right after waking up from a nap, don’t you think, Tatsu—” He stopped abruptly, trying to swallow a cough that forced its way out, bringing with it a dozen more that doubled the young captain over with their force.

“Okita-san!” Tatsu was at his side in an instant, supporting the deceptively frail shoulders as they heaved with the deep, wracking coughs that made him wince in sympathy. When the fit had finally past, Souji allowed himself to be supported on Tatsu’s arm for a moment, exhausted once again. Tatsu said nothing, and after catching his breath Souji pushed himself up, wiping the corner of his mouth and then tucking his hand out of sight in the sleeve of his yukata. Tatsu did not miss the subtle movements, but he knew better than to hurt Souji’s pride by remarking upon them.

Souji looked up at him with a smile that was just a tinge weaker than before. “I’m fine, Tatsunosuke-san,” he said, convincing neither of them. Saizou made a quiet noise of distress, and absently Souji stroked the top of his head. “I just got some dust down my throat.” His shoulders were stiff beneath the arm Tatsu still had wrapped lightly around them, begging him to accept the lie.

Tatsu nodded, and removed his arm. “Well, the tea should help,” he said after a moment, as lightly as he could manage. It was painful to force back the words of concern that he wanted to speak, but he knew that Souji would understand without them.

“Oh, yes!” Souji clapped his hands, meeting Tatsu’s eyes for an instant in a glance that eloquently conveyed his thanks. “Please, let me try some.”

Tatsu fetched the cup he had poured and passed it over to the younger man, pretending not to notice the way those slender fingers shook just a little. “It’s not very sweet, remember,” he warned. “You might not like it.”

Souji merely rolled his eyes at him and deliberately took a large gulp. His reaction was instantaneous: he screwed his face up in a grimace that reminded Tatsu so strongly of Tetsu that he started laughing. To his credit, Souji did manage to swallow his mouthful of tea, with difficulty. Then he leveled a glare at Tatsu that would have seemed uncharacteristic had his eyes not remained playful.

“Tatsunosuke-saaan,” he said plaintively, “how on earth do you drink that?”

Tatsu got his snickering under control, though he was still smiling. “I did warn you,” he pointed out. “I happen to like the flavor. The stuff you drink is sweet enough to rot my teeth!”

“That’s rude.” Souji’s lips were twitching but he continued to play his part admirably. “I don’t know what you have against my tea. Sweet things are good for you!”

They stared at each other for a moment following that statement, and finally both gave up at the same time and they dissolved into laughter. It was an odd thing, really, Tatsu thought as he watched Souji’s face easing with genuine mirth, the way their friendship had sprung up since he and Tetsu had joined the Shinsengumi. He hadn’t even noticed its subtle growth until shortly before Ikeda-ya, and it had deepened considerably in the days since then. Now he could not imagine feeling stiff or ill-at-ease in Souji’s presence, though he remembered a time when he had felt both. It seemed ridiculous now.

Souji’s voice brought him out of his thoughts, and he realized that he’d been daydreaming. “Tatsunosuke-san,” he said, with an undertone of laughter still in his voice, “you’re ignoring me.”

Tatsu flushed. “Ah, I’m sorry, Okita-san. What did you say?”

“I said, ‘why don’t we go sit on the porch?’ It’s a nice day out.”

“Oh. Sure, if that’s what you want to do.”

Souji gave him a wry look as if he sensed the objections that Tatsu had kept to himself: The humidity might not be good for your cough, though. And it’s getting hotter by the minute out there. Are you sure you’re well enough? Neither mentioned it, however, and they moved to the porch together to sit in companionable silence for a few minutes, Saizou napping once again on his master’s lap. It was actually quite pleasant here in the shade of the porch, and the yard was unusually peaceful for early afternoon, silent except for the sound of cicadas nearby and the muffled noises from the training hall. At least half the reason for this was probably that Sano, Shinpachi and Heisuke had dragged Tetsu into town on some errand — without the four loudest people around it was amazing how quiet the place seemed.

After a while Souji coughed lightly, bringing Tatsu’s head around with immediate concern, but he waved it off. It was then that Tatsu noticed that Souji had brought out his cup of tea with him, and was determinedly taking another sip. “Okita-san…” he began, warmed by the kindness.

Souji just smiled. “It’s not so bad,” he said, “once you get used to it.”

Tatsu could do nothing but smile back, and silence fell once again.

:: owari ::

Yeah, my usual weekly updates of Murphy's Law and Tokoharu will hopefully be up tonight. *crosses fingers*

fanfic :: peacemaker kurogane :: contradictions

kmckernie@gmail.com — Tue, 27 Feb 2007 21:15:47 GMT

Egad, I'm on a fanfic-writing spree! This one snuck up out of nowhere while I was watching the Ikeda-ya episodes of Peacemaker Kurogane. It originally was supposed to be longer ~~and uhhh, deeper~~ but ended up as a doubledrabble. Oh well.

Series Peacemaker
Title: Contradictions
Characters: Shinpachi, Sano
Rating: G
Summary: To anyone who did not know him well, it would have been an odd sight... [gen, doubledrabble]

Contradictions
To anyone who did not know him well, it would have been an odd sight: big, rough, loud Harada Sanosuke was bandaging his friend’s hand with utmost quiet, gentleness and concentration. Shinpachi, however, had known Sano long enough not to be surprised by the seemingly uncharacteristic behavior. This is just as much like Sano as was the fit he’d thrown a few hours ago at the Ikeda-ya when he’d first caught sight of Shinpachi and Heisuke’s wounds. Shinpachi smiled a little at the memory.

As if sensing his thoughts, Sano paused in his self-appointed work and looked up, Shinpachi’s hand still clasped carefully within his own. It looked deceptively small, almost delicate in comparison with his far larger hands. “I meant every word back there, you know,” he said. His normally booming voice was very low, rumbling. “If you guys ever get yourselves hurt again when I’m not around…” He did not need to finish the sentence.

Shinpachi chuckled, but Sano understood that he was not making light of the sentiment. “Aa,” he said, meeting his friend’s earnest gaze. “I know.” He offered a smile that conveyed his gratitude far better than words.

Sano returned the gesture and quietly returned to his task.

:: owari ::

All right, now that that pointlessness is out of the way XP, on to working on this week's scheduled updates. And some of those ~~millions of~~ requests I've still got hanging around. :P

I wonder why I was never able to update my LotR fanfic so regularly...? Actually, I know why. It's because I never used to outline. *sigh*