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maderrI promised myself that today I wouldn't be depressed like I was yesterday. There's nothing I can do but press forward and hope for the best. It's my own damn fault Columbia is sueing me, because I was worried about GM that I forgot about Columbia. My own stupidity will someday be the death of me.
So. Spent all fracking morning catching up on Heat Guy J, which I love voraciously. Almost up to where I was with fansubs, then I'll get to see three new (to me) episodes. Just need...one? two? more dvds after that. Granted, I won't be buying them for a long time, but hey - when I *can* finally buy them, it'll be because I can afford them and not because I'm pretending I can. That is something else I've vowed.
I really want to write Daisuke/Kia slash. They're such a pretty couple, and the vibes were just oozing out of them in that ep. Gah. Does anyone else like Heat Guy J? Does Kia show up again? I've only seen up to 13, so I'm loathe to write slash quite yet. But man, it's one of the few series that makes me want to write fanfiction. On a sidenote, I hate hate hate Escaflowne - but I love Heat. It makes no sense that the art I despise in the former I love in the latter. I think Heat is prettier...more refined?
And just to continue with the random, sat down last night to write Treasure, and couldn't because this kept bothering me. I have no idea where it's going, what it is or why the fuck it decided to bug me after I saw one stupid commericial in a sports bar. Dear Brain, Please turn off. No Love, Me.
Prisoner
Dieter scrubbed at his face, wishing desperately for a shave. Stars, he hated wars. They made him weary, sore and filthy. Irritably he shoved strands of silver-touched black hair from his eyes, looking up at the near-black sky. "Stupid bitch," he muttered under his breath. He snapped his head down at the sound of boots squishing in the muddy swamp that their camp had become. "Yes?" he barked at the private trying not to shake before him.
"G-General, w-w-we caught him."
Gray-green eyes flared with the first sign of pleasure they'd shown all day. "Excellent. Have him brought to my tent."
"Yes, Sir!" the private turned and beat a retreat. Dieter ruefully noted that if they'd move half so fast in battle, more of them would live.
He glared once more at the dark sky before stalking into his tent, the largest and most well-kept in the camp. Inside, he shrugged out of the heavy fur he'd been draped in, leaving it to the attendant who scrambled forward to catch it and see that it got as clean as was possible.
"Stars, I hate this weather. The Winter Princess needs to hurry up and succumb to the Spring Lord." A few of his attendants laughed softly in agreement. Dieter's next words were prevented by the sound of shouting and scrabbling, words shouted in a language usually foreign to their camp. A moment later four men came crashing through the front of his tent, three of them falling to the ground.
The prisoner remained standing, sneering contemptuously at the soldiers who could not keep him under control.
Dieter stepped forward, grabbed the prisoner by the scruff of his shirt and swung a hard fist into his stomach. The prisoner crumbled, groaning in pain - but he did not pass out.
"That's more like it." Dieter nodded, brushed off his hands, and resumed his seat. "Now," he glared at his men. "Start talking."
The first soldier nodded, fumbling to straighten his hat as he snapped to attention. "This is the man that led the ambush, General. We have been unable to find any other survivors."
Unadulterated hate clouded the prisoner's face, as he looked at Dieter.
Dieter was not moved. "And how did he manage to take us so unawares?"
"We do not know, Sir." The second soldier started to shrug, then realized what he was doing and froze.
"Well," Dieter stared at the prisoner through hooded eyes. "You certainly have cost us a great many lives." The man gave the word filthy all new meaning. His dark green military breeches were so covered in muck and grime you couldn't tell their original color unless you knew it ahead of time. His hair was a mystery - perhaps blonde or brown. He'd lost his military jacket, making rank impossible to determine, and his shirt was little more than scraps of cloth barely clinging to his form. But beneath the rags and the mud, muscle rippled and tensed as he moved and strained against the chains wound down his arm and locked tightly around his wrists. This was no soldier-in-uniform-only.
Of course, the fact that he'd killed more than a hundred of Dieter's best had proven that. "Do you have a name, prisoner?" He noticed, almost idly, that the man's dark amber eyes turned almost gold in anger.
"Prisoner is good enough for you," the man spat. "You may as well start to kill me, because I'll not tell you a thing."
Dieter smirked, "That remains to be seen." His gaze hardened as he looked at his men. "Do we know anything about him?"
"He lost his jacket struggling against us, but it had the marks of a lieutenant." The third soldier spoke quietly, as if he sensed the General would be displeased and was hoping to escape detection.
Had Dieter felt like moving, he probably would have backhanded him. His vision misted with rage. "A lieutenant. Half my Scarlet is dead now because of a polluted lieutenant.!" He reached out, grabbing whatever was nearest to hand - a book of some sort - and pitched at the head of the closest soldier. The private didn't duck soon enough, tumbling back into his fellows and grunting in pain. "Get out! And rest while you can, because tomorrow you're going to wish the Goddess had taken you away. GET OUT!"
The soldiers fled.
Breathing heavily with rage, Dieter surged to his feet and grabbed a fistful of the prisoner's filthy hair. "How? How did you kill all my men?"
"I’m polluted, remember?" The prisoner sneered in contempt. "A little pollution is all I need to send you all to your damnable goddess."
Dieter swung out, once more punching him hard in the gut. He glared, enraged, as the prisoner crumpled to the ground and lay still. Using one booted foot, he shoved the prisoner until he lay flat on his stomach. Crouching down, he examined the chains that bound him. It would not do to injure him overmuch until they could determine a use for him. Grimacing at the layers of stars only knew what covered him, he shoved away dirt and scraps of cloth to ensure he had not suffered serious injury.
His explorations uncovered a strange, unnatural black mark. Dieter frowned and wiped away more of the grime, breath hissing between his teeth when he realized what he had uncovered.
Seven thin triangles, shaped in a circle to form a seven-pointed star. Dieter was torn between annoyance and glee. "That would certainly explain how a mere lieutenant killed all my men." Rising to his feet, he stormed from his tent to start giving orders.
P.S. Yo Bro! Sarah bought me DMC 3 for easter! Any tips, since my score for the first mission was a B? -_-;;
So. Spent all fracking morning catching up on Heat Guy J, which I love voraciously. Almost up to where I was with fansubs, then I'll get to see three new (to me) episodes. Just need...one? two? more dvds after that. Granted, I won't be buying them for a long time, but hey - when I *can* finally buy them, it'll be because I can afford them and not because I'm pretending I can. That is something else I've vowed.
I really want to write Daisuke/Kia slash. They're such a pretty couple, and the vibes were just oozing out of them in that ep. Gah. Does anyone else like Heat Guy J? Does Kia show up again? I've only seen up to 13, so I'm loathe to write slash quite yet. But man, it's one of the few series that makes me want to write fanfiction. On a sidenote, I hate hate hate Escaflowne - but I love Heat. It makes no sense that the art I despise in the former I love in the latter. I think Heat is prettier...more refined?
And just to continue with the random, sat down last night to write Treasure, and couldn't because this kept bothering me. I have no idea where it's going, what it is or why the fuck it decided to bug me after I saw one stupid commericial in a sports bar. Dear Brain, Please turn off. No Love, Me.
Prisoner
Dieter scrubbed at his face, wishing desperately for a shave. Stars, he hated wars. They made him weary, sore and filthy. Irritably he shoved strands of silver-touched black hair from his eyes, looking up at the near-black sky. "Stupid bitch," he muttered under his breath. He snapped his head down at the sound of boots squishing in the muddy swamp that their camp had become. "Yes?" he barked at the private trying not to shake before him.
"G-General, w-w-we caught him."
Gray-green eyes flared with the first sign of pleasure they'd shown all day. "Excellent. Have him brought to my tent."
"Yes, Sir!" the private turned and beat a retreat. Dieter ruefully noted that if they'd move half so fast in battle, more of them would live.
He glared once more at the dark sky before stalking into his tent, the largest and most well-kept in the camp. Inside, he shrugged out of the heavy fur he'd been draped in, leaving it to the attendant who scrambled forward to catch it and see that it got as clean as was possible.
"Stars, I hate this weather. The Winter Princess needs to hurry up and succumb to the Spring Lord." A few of his attendants laughed softly in agreement. Dieter's next words were prevented by the sound of shouting and scrabbling, words shouted in a language usually foreign to their camp. A moment later four men came crashing through the front of his tent, three of them falling to the ground.
The prisoner remained standing, sneering contemptuously at the soldiers who could not keep him under control.
Dieter stepped forward, grabbed the prisoner by the scruff of his shirt and swung a hard fist into his stomach. The prisoner crumbled, groaning in pain - but he did not pass out.
"That's more like it." Dieter nodded, brushed off his hands, and resumed his seat. "Now," he glared at his men. "Start talking."
The first soldier nodded, fumbling to straighten his hat as he snapped to attention. "This is the man that led the ambush, General. We have been unable to find any other survivors."
Unadulterated hate clouded the prisoner's face, as he looked at Dieter.
Dieter was not moved. "And how did he manage to take us so unawares?"
"We do not know, Sir." The second soldier started to shrug, then realized what he was doing and froze.
"Well," Dieter stared at the prisoner through hooded eyes. "You certainly have cost us a great many lives." The man gave the word filthy all new meaning. His dark green military breeches were so covered in muck and grime you couldn't tell their original color unless you knew it ahead of time. His hair was a mystery - perhaps blonde or brown. He'd lost his military jacket, making rank impossible to determine, and his shirt was little more than scraps of cloth barely clinging to his form. But beneath the rags and the mud, muscle rippled and tensed as he moved and strained against the chains wound down his arm and locked tightly around his wrists. This was no soldier-in-uniform-only.
Of course, the fact that he'd killed more than a hundred of Dieter's best had proven that. "Do you have a name, prisoner?" He noticed, almost idly, that the man's dark amber eyes turned almost gold in anger.
"Prisoner is good enough for you," the man spat. "You may as well start to kill me, because I'll not tell you a thing."
Dieter smirked, "That remains to be seen." His gaze hardened as he looked at his men. "Do we know anything about him?"
"He lost his jacket struggling against us, but it had the marks of a lieutenant." The third soldier spoke quietly, as if he sensed the General would be displeased and was hoping to escape detection.
Had Dieter felt like moving, he probably would have backhanded him. His vision misted with rage. "A lieutenant. Half my Scarlet is dead now because of a polluted lieutenant.!" He reached out, grabbing whatever was nearest to hand - a book of some sort - and pitched at the head of the closest soldier. The private didn't duck soon enough, tumbling back into his fellows and grunting in pain. "Get out! And rest while you can, because tomorrow you're going to wish the Goddess had taken you away. GET OUT!"
The soldiers fled.
Breathing heavily with rage, Dieter surged to his feet and grabbed a fistful of the prisoner's filthy hair. "How? How did you kill all my men?"
"I’m polluted, remember?" The prisoner sneered in contempt. "A little pollution is all I need to send you all to your damnable goddess."
Dieter swung out, once more punching him hard in the gut. He glared, enraged, as the prisoner crumpled to the ground and lay still. Using one booted foot, he shoved the prisoner until he lay flat on his stomach. Crouching down, he examined the chains that bound him. It would not do to injure him overmuch until they could determine a use for him. Grimacing at the layers of stars only knew what covered him, he shoved away dirt and scraps of cloth to ensure he had not suffered serious injury.
His explorations uncovered a strange, unnatural black mark. Dieter frowned and wiped away more of the grime, breath hissing between his teeth when he realized what he had uncovered.
Seven thin triangles, shaped in a circle to form a seven-pointed star. Dieter was torn between annoyance and glee. "That would certainly explain how a mere lieutenant killed all my men." Rising to his feet, he stormed from his tent to start giving orders.
P.S. Yo Bro! Sarah bought me DMC 3 for easter! Any tips, since my score for the first mission was a B? -_-;;
no subject
Date: 2005-03-31 02:27 am (UTC)God, you're incredible. (And please, please tell me that there will be more on this? ;_______; *huge puppy eyes*) I like Dieter's hard ass stance and I like that he pulls no punches. Of course, I feel terribly bad (and terribly curious about) for the prisoner.
And, and, the cliffies!! ;_; You kill me dead. (Course, I like it, so whether or not that's actually a bad things is debatable...)
In essence, you rock. *glomps*
no subject
Date: 2005-04-01 01:59 am (UTC)*glomps back*
I'm always afraid people will finally lose patience and start smacking me around for starting new stuff and never finishing anything ^^;
But I'm glad you like it. Will definitely be more, as soon as they decide to tell me what exactly is going on.