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Yoinked from [livejournal.com profile] wired_lizard

My writerbrain needs a jumpstart. So I'm doing that thing I sometimes do where I open myself for ficlet prompts and do my darndest to actually fill them all. Comment with a request and I'll comment back with fic.

So, here's the deal: Normally, the writer asks for one prompt per person, maybe two. This time, I ask that you give me as many prompts as you can think of, for my chosen fandoms. This way, I can pick and choose the prompts that interest/inspire me the most, everyone will be more likely to get something, and the prompts I don't get to now will likely be featured in Blogathon. (Yes, that's almost half a year away. Hush. ;-p) So seriously? If you have ten prompts, give me ten prompts!

Featured fandoms:
Puella Magi Madoka Magica
Sekirei
Kingdom Hearts
Xenosaga
Shoujo Kakumei Utena
Doctor Who (Eleventh Doctor only)

If you don't know any of these, or have a great idea for a prompt in another fandom you think I might be familiar with, feel free to request, though I make no guarantees.

Ruka as a Black Rose duelist

Date: 2011-03-31 04:46 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] mllelaurel.livejournal.com
In the plays of ancient Greece, the hero would rise or fall – mostly fall – on the weight of his fatal flaw, and more often than not, that flaw was hubris. Pride.

He didn’t think he suffered from any such fatal flaw, which, in itself, should have been a hint.

The Nemuro Memorial Hall whispers to him. Perhaps it’s that he’s half a ghost himself already; a man who would be dead, were it not for Ohtori’s strange temporal properties. He tells himself he’s only going in to investigate. The more he knows about this hellhole of a school and its fairy logic, the quicker he can free Juri from its hold.
Juri. For her, he would fight the forces at work here – or ally with them, as needed. With her at his side, he might have defied even death. But that is not to be. He’s resigned himself to a noble sacrifice, after all. Wouldn’t do to change the story midstream.

The Hall greets him with silence and pointing arrows. He expects his footsteps to echo, but they don’t, sound eaten by the hardwood floors. He doesn’t have a pen on him, so he doesn’t bother to fill out the form. Just steps into the elevator.

“Begin,” says the mechanized voice. At least, Ruka thinks it’s mechanized. There is something in its qualities which is devoid of a human touch. Then again, he’s met humans like that. The chair is uncomfortable; too small for him. He remains resolutely silent.

He can feel the elevator moving down, but it’s taking minutes upon minutes to reach its destination, whatever that may be. If he doesn’t speak, doesn’t tell it what it wants to hear, will he be trapped here forever, moving down a nonexistent cable until his body rots away?

“There’s a girl,” he tells the voice at the end of the line. He can almost hear it nod in acknowledgment. The picture on the elevator wall seems to shimmer. “I would do anything for her.”

The voice seems unsatisfied. “Deeper. Go deeper.” Its tones burrow into him, until it feels some part of his mind is being torn open.

“I don’t care if she loves somebody else. I’m fucked anyway, right? I want her to be happy, not lonely or mourning or bitter. She’s grown so hard, recently…” The elevator grinds to a stop and begins, slowly, to move upward. He wishes he could shut up again, but the torrent of words just keeps coming.

“She’s grown so hard, recently, and it’s all her fault. That girl knows Juri is in love with her, and what does she do? She feigns ignorance, drags it out. She loves the power of it – the only thing she can love is power. She could tell her ‘no;’ end it. She could look into her heart and see she loves her after all. Instead, she plays the child, the innocent, the fool. It’s all a game to her.” The elevator plummets, so fast he is almost in freefall.

“And I’ve never wanted anything in the world so much as I want to destroy her.”

What is he saying? His head is starting to swim. It reminds him of the medication the doctors have had him on, the one that dulled the pain but paralyzed his limbs. The one that made him believe someone on the other end of the wall was talking about killing everyone in the building. Some part of him knows the words coming out of his mouth aren’t any more true than the phantom serial killer. And yet, a raw, buried part of him believes in their veracity. He’s not so rational after all. He laughs at that, and can’t stop laughing until the elevator hits bottom.

The last thing he remembers before blacking out is a small, dark-skinned hand cupping his cheek and a strangely familiar voice saying. “Shame, you could almost have been a Prince.”

Re: Ruka as a Black Rose duelist

Date: 2011-04-03 03:43 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] nevacaruso.livejournal.com
For her, he would fight the forces at work here – or ally with them, as needed. With her at his side, he might have defied even death. But that is not to be. He’s resigned himself to a noble sacrifice, after all. Wouldn’t do to change the story midstream.

YES.

Every single bit of this is wonderful.

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