I listened to this song over and over (again) and I officially recognize it as a song for the Hikaru no Go Wishes album. Yun lang. But a really, really, really interesting song in a R&B sort of way is Clazziquai's You Never Know. O_o;

Yeah, and that reminds me - I just read an article about a Japanese coffeeshop that opened a branch here in Manila - and I want to go there for some good old coffee loving! Ta - ci - ta! ^_^ So now the building block were Trinkets is located looks like this:



The bookshop owner is the one that ends up with the ditzy manga-ka, as per Anna's suggestion. *laughs* Don't think I forgot about that already!

Why have I ended up making so many L5r ficlets lately? Ask Hisui-san - I'm still recovering from the burst of idea intoxication her last visit brought me. Also, I seem to like Tsubasa a lot. He's - nice. *fangirls* And of course the idea of anything remotely sentai-ish (in the form of Unicorn Battler YongHa) is enough to cement my love for these characters. Maybe because Souji and YongHa aren't together in the way Akira and Hikaru are, so I can angst my way though the relationship. In fact, I believe that I can;t for the life of me think of a good complication for HikaAki (in L5r, as opposed to in Hikaru no Go)

( random lines )

( Binetsu Kakumei : Stay )

Series: Legend of the Five Rings
Warning: general randomness, gratuitous 'servicing'

( [Chou] Scar )

( [Little Wing] Weakness )

( Hakuseii )

( L5r: Tsubasa notes and HikaAki omake (it's not what you think!) )

I never thought I could hate writing this much. Is this strain? Is this trauma? I can't see a single word, nevertheless string sentences. I want to burn the stories except they're in txt files in the computer.

I've only experienced this rage before, and what I ended up with was a roomful of torn drawings. I spared nothing then, and was left to taste regret as I tried to piece together those I regarded as precious accomplishments from high school, like Amaya, or a drawing of the Kurokawa twins, old Snape and Lupin, Lucien, among others. All because of rage and a feeling of helplessness. Why can't I match what I see in my mind with what I want to do? Why can't I even reach and touch what I can see in my mind?

( and the reason for all this is the ficathon story )

In between joseki and zen-like essays on Go, I decided to take a break and read A and Grantaire as a refresher on where I last left them. To say it was a mistake is putting it mildly. They should be banned when I'm doing something as difficult as this. Let's just say I dug out some extremly prurient yaoi scanlations with extremely pretty boys to clear my mind. XD

( Shosuro dream )

***

Ficathon is progressing very slowly. I am going to die on the 28th. Why can't I just write what I had in my mind? For example, the father avenging his son's death idea was simple - a bandit kills the son on the road, and the father "dies" (or leaves for the monastery) but an old nameless ronin kills the bandit. Son is full of promise and had yet to make a name for himself, but before he could he disobeys his father's wishes and runs away with a geisha. His death reveals the shame he has brought to the family (maybe if he had lived, his father might have convinced him to leave the geisha or be more discreet?) but no, he died in the bandit's hands. Father loved the son very much, and would not let his death go in vain.

Variation #1: Son is married and the woman is his wife, and this will be a variation of yet a variation of In the Grove. (I love that story, don't you?)
Variation #2: Son is on the way home from a tournament (a prestigious one he won), and the bandit kills him.

But I prefer the Lovers find themselves at opposite ends of the battlefield idea more, since I will be using Go as a battlefield. *rolls eyes heavenward* Slate and Stone essays were not the best choice to go for the violence of the game, being focused on the zen-like qualities of this 'hand conversation', so I'll be reading proverbs and the other pdfs again.

( random drabble )

I'm seriously considering giving Daidoji Kitani (I remembered there was a Minoru among their ranks - I didn't want to get myself confused) a Scorpion lover - a married one, trained as an artisan (Soshi?) who - though she couldn't rival Kitani in Go (hell, no one can rival Kitani Minoru except Go Seigen in my mind! Ack! Go meijin slash. XP) but there are certain elements I want to write in :

- a child (the Scorpion's) who Kitani treat like his own
- the different things used to describe go : a battle, a sharing game, revealing what is in the player's mind, if not in his heart, timeless, used as a means to prophesy (in the sense of the old Chinese use for Go)
- the attack and repulse of violence in the game
- the ebb and flow of the game to show their adaptability to the situations (situation: a point where Joseki is abandoned because it limits the progress of the game)
- Stubborness, in Kitani's part (he refuses the engagement, leading to return to a previous state of the game - refusal to accept the situation of their relationship?)
- Luring out to show a weakness, but not using it - to show where to improve (shidougo)
- not fighting in the end, because Go is a game of harmony
- not to mention her by name
- a drawn game

***

The other one is proving much harder to think of because I want some unusual way of conducting revenge, not just the usual duel (though the duel does have its merits), but I can;t think of a creative, traditionally Japanese way of doing it, besides a curse. O_o

SlamDunk Micchan has a scar on his chin - was that from the fight with Miyagi? Though I wouldn't mind going through the scanlations of the Slam Dunk volumes we have, wading through the 20 volumes after vol7 (when Miichan appeared) will be HELL.

Leviathan
A memory. Kouhei smelling not of the empty scent, but of paraffin. In the way that a line connected two points she connected the paraffin with bulletholes and dead bodies, and for one horrible moment what was standing before her was not her lover, but a corpse with hollowed eyesockets. Her stomach churned, she wanted to vomit, cleanse her mouth and her nose from the stench of death that rose so sharply from the man, and forget how close the death was to him. The urge to scream died at her lips when he smiled.
***

Hikaru no Go
Shindou glanced up, and surprised green eyes met determined brown. There was something in that glance that made him breathless. He was out of balance, falling with vertigo. This conversation was dangerous to his sanity, to the face he presented to the world. How could he keep everything normal, and not risk overstepping what they still can't say?
***

Hikaru no Go
The game played on, and Michio became aware of every nuance of Ogata's play, resonating, touching him, sensing the energies behind every stone's fall on the board the same way he remembered the hard planes of the other man's body. His breath hitched, aware. The stones were not hard, but yielding, warm, the go ke was a marvel of curves and shadow. The next stone would fall at 13-5. Ogata would think it was a threat, but he could capture it later, he knew it. How did he know? He had no idea, but the pattern of their game unfolded itself easily in his mind, as naturally as the unfurling of tightly nipped buds to full bloom, as of birds taking flight.
***

L5r: Ryuumi
Migetsu closed his eyes. The slow, measured steps could belong to an artisan trained in theater, but he could tell by this time who it was. Deliberately, he'd come here earlier than his sensei, just to hear him arrive, and to smell the light musk of his scent when he passed by to take his seat.
"Have you been waiting long? Forgive me."
"No, I've only been here for a short time, Ryuudo."
***

L5r: The Lady of the Blue Pavilion
What he remembered the most were her hands. Long pale hands with tapering fingertips, the skin nearly translucent, and long nails painted in crimson. They were fingertips dipped in blood. Those nails cut through the skin when she touched him, and though the skin looked soft they were calloused. From those hands fine filaments of color were transformed to silk of brilliant hues made to garb their princess.
***

Original: Whitewash
"I lived in constant, oppressive dread - the dread of knowing nameless someones, flickering shadows at the back of my mind, these someones were at the same moment that I was writing, they were making better lines, writing characterization that makes people think, turned phrases with deft touches to make them new again. I lived with this paralyzing fear everyday, and instead of writing I stared at the white screen, seeing those magical words being written, pixel by pixel, appearing like an afterimage burning in my eyes from the screen. Urging me to type them down, but I knew better. I knew I can never put their essence down."

First post! Mwahaha! And it had to be of L5r. Damn.

( [DRAFT] L5r: Two students of Go )