Disclaimer: Sailormoon isn't mine. Never will be, and never has.
Rating: PG
P.O.V.: Sailor Starfighter
Warning: Shoujo-ai (Fighter + Healer, Maker + Fighter), suggestive comments, and minor swearing.
Icy's Notes: Don't ask what possessed me. It was the coke's entire caffeinated fault… *Shakes her head* Don't flame me too bad.
Love's Absolute Insanity
By: Icy Blade
~*~*~*~*~
As I sit here and stare at this piece of paper with about two lines of writing on it, I think to myself, "Why the HELL did writer's block kick in just NOW?" I sigh in exasperation, get up, pace around for a few minutes thinking, and plop back down on the chair of my desk, and stare at the paper again. This was starting to get me mad. It seemed as if the paper was mocking me.
If Maker were here, she'd say I was crazy. Like every other damned moment I'm all jumpy like this. Damn poetry. And damn Healer too for having unlimited charm points. I pull on a few strands of hair, and curse myself when I see my beautiful, long, black strands flutter down. Damn myself too for never paying attention in literature class. I tap my pen absently on the sheet of paper, waiting for ideas to pop into my mind.
Quite suddenly, and I mean 'suddenly' in a literal term, I smell the scent of jasmine, and feel hot breath on my neck. I shivered slightly, shot up from my chair, started frantically rubbing my neck, and snapped, "DAMNIT! Maker! Stop doing that!" I shivered again, and in an ungraceful manor, sat back down. I eyed her violet eyes, which were skimming my 'poetry'.
"…Are you not educated?" she muttered and put my paper down. I glared at her with all the anger I could muster up. Which wasn't much, considering the fact that I was high embarrassed. "Your words are misspelled, you used periods instead of commas, and there's ink blotches everywhere…" she muttered again, trying not to laugh. It was obvious she wanted to laugh. The left corner of her lips was quirked up into one of those 'Sucks to be you' smirks. Damn her. I seem to be damning a lot aren't I? I sighed, got up, and paced some more. She just lifted an eyebrow and her eyes just watched me pace back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.
"Stop staring at me." I whined more than I demanded in that.
"Oh, Fighter-chan, it's just so amusing hearing your brain cells popping, and your heels thumping on the floor." I didn't like her sarcasm. Not one bit. I glared at her, but she just snickered. "You need help don't you?" I stomped my foot in a justified fashion. That meant 'no', but apparently, her mind thought it meant 'yes'. She sat in my chair, grabbed my arm, and shoved me down onto her lap. I felt like such a kid again, when I would sit on Santa's lap in the local malls on Kinmoku. Only she wasn't fat, and she was tall.
"Maker! I'm not a kid!" I whined again. Why did I feel this made her aroused or something?
"Physically, no," she muttered while poking my left breast. I crossed my arms over my chest and tried to glare. Too bad blushing got in the way. My breasts were sensitive, damnit! "Mentally, yes. Now sit down, shut up, and write." She turned me around from the position I had on her lap. "I'll be looking over your shoulder, looking at EVERY WORD YOU WRITE." She purposely stressed 'every word you write'. I curse her existence. Why could Sailor Starmaker be some bubbly airhead like that Aino Minako chick we met on earth? Instead, when we got home, Maker turned into some perverted, smart, freak of nature. I mean, she was always smart, she just got smarter. If that was even possible. I miss the cold, quiet Maker. Damn it all. Damn it all to Hell. I decided I didn't like our fuku anymore. All because Maker's breasts were pressed against my back.
After 3 misspelled words, 2 arguments on word and punctuation usage, and 4 mentally disturbing attempts from Maker-chan to get me in bed later, I was satisfied with what I wrote. Even if it was only 4 damned lines.
"Am I disturbing something?" To my horror, there Healer was, standing in the doorway with a really fancy dress on. Her eyebrow arched, and her eyes shifted from me to Maker.
"I - I - I…." That's all I could say. Okay, now I hope Maker dies. Healer gave us a real funny look.
"Fighter, are you okay? You look a little pale…"
"Oh, she's fine. She was healthy enough to write poetry!" Maker was grinning. She seemed to love making a fool out of me.
"I'd love to read it. You know, Fighter doesn't write anything SANE that often, but I have a date was Masato-san, and I'm really late. Ja ne!" I blinked, she blew a kiss and ran down the hall.
"Awww. Too bad. Poor Fighter-chan lost her chance with the beautiful social butterfly, before she even pulled a move." Maker's words were overflowing with sarcasm. Shot down again. Damn my luck. I turned my head.
"So, ah, Maker-chan. What are you doing Friday night?" She lifted an eyebrow.
"Was I second on your list?" I didn't know I had any list… Hmmm… I shrugged. She sighed in exasperation.
"I'm sorry. You had your chances." She smirked, stood up so I fell on my ass on the floor, and walked over to the door. I didn't bother to do anything. I just crossed my legs, and hung my head. "Although," she start, her back facing me. She looked rather idiotic with her index finger pointed up. You'd think she found a cure for the common cold or something. Wouldn't be surprising if she did though. "Write me 10 pieces of GOOD POETRY, and I will go on a date with you." She dropped her arm back to her side, and casually walked out of the room. I shook my head. Screw that. It's just NOT worth the effort.
~*~*~*~
After I read this the day after, I kept thinking to myself, 'I will never drink coke again.' Anyway, from your local corny author, ja ne, minna! Don't hate me too bad!
~Icy Blade
Rating: PG
P.O.V.: Sailor Starfighter
Warning: Shoujo-ai (Fighter + Healer, Maker + Fighter), suggestive comments, and minor swearing.
Icy's Notes: Don't ask what possessed me. It was the coke's entire caffeinated fault… *Shakes her head* Don't flame me too bad.
Love's Absolute Insanity
By: Icy Blade
~*~*~*~*~
As I sit here and stare at this piece of paper with about two lines of writing on it, I think to myself, "Why the HELL did writer's block kick in just NOW?" I sigh in exasperation, get up, pace around for a few minutes thinking, and plop back down on the chair of my desk, and stare at the paper again. This was starting to get me mad. It seemed as if the paper was mocking me.
If Maker were here, she'd say I was crazy. Like every other damned moment I'm all jumpy like this. Damn poetry. And damn Healer too for having unlimited charm points. I pull on a few strands of hair, and curse myself when I see my beautiful, long, black strands flutter down. Damn myself too for never paying attention in literature class. I tap my pen absently on the sheet of paper, waiting for ideas to pop into my mind.
Quite suddenly, and I mean 'suddenly' in a literal term, I smell the scent of jasmine, and feel hot breath on my neck. I shivered slightly, shot up from my chair, started frantically rubbing my neck, and snapped, "DAMNIT! Maker! Stop doing that!" I shivered again, and in an ungraceful manor, sat back down. I eyed her violet eyes, which were skimming my 'poetry'.
"…Are you not educated?" she muttered and put my paper down. I glared at her with all the anger I could muster up. Which wasn't much, considering the fact that I was high embarrassed. "Your words are misspelled, you used periods instead of commas, and there's ink blotches everywhere…" she muttered again, trying not to laugh. It was obvious she wanted to laugh. The left corner of her lips was quirked up into one of those 'Sucks to be you' smirks. Damn her. I seem to be damning a lot aren't I? I sighed, got up, and paced some more. She just lifted an eyebrow and her eyes just watched me pace back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.
"Stop staring at me." I whined more than I demanded in that.
"Oh, Fighter-chan, it's just so amusing hearing your brain cells popping, and your heels thumping on the floor." I didn't like her sarcasm. Not one bit. I glared at her, but she just snickered. "You need help don't you?" I stomped my foot in a justified fashion. That meant 'no', but apparently, her mind thought it meant 'yes'. She sat in my chair, grabbed my arm, and shoved me down onto her lap. I felt like such a kid again, when I would sit on Santa's lap in the local malls on Kinmoku. Only she wasn't fat, and she was tall.
"Maker! I'm not a kid!" I whined again. Why did I feel this made her aroused or something?
"Physically, no," she muttered while poking my left breast. I crossed my arms over my chest and tried to glare. Too bad blushing got in the way. My breasts were sensitive, damnit! "Mentally, yes. Now sit down, shut up, and write." She turned me around from the position I had on her lap. "I'll be looking over your shoulder, looking at EVERY WORD YOU WRITE." She purposely stressed 'every word you write'. I curse her existence. Why could Sailor Starmaker be some bubbly airhead like that Aino Minako chick we met on earth? Instead, when we got home, Maker turned into some perverted, smart, freak of nature. I mean, she was always smart, she just got smarter. If that was even possible. I miss the cold, quiet Maker. Damn it all. Damn it all to Hell. I decided I didn't like our fuku anymore. All because Maker's breasts were pressed against my back.
After 3 misspelled words, 2 arguments on word and punctuation usage, and 4 mentally disturbing attempts from Maker-chan to get me in bed later, I was satisfied with what I wrote. Even if it was only 4 damned lines.
"Am I disturbing something?" To my horror, there Healer was, standing in the doorway with a really fancy dress on. Her eyebrow arched, and her eyes shifted from me to Maker.
"I - I - I…." That's all I could say. Okay, now I hope Maker dies. Healer gave us a real funny look.
"Fighter, are you okay? You look a little pale…"
"Oh, she's fine. She was healthy enough to write poetry!" Maker was grinning. She seemed to love making a fool out of me.
"I'd love to read it. You know, Fighter doesn't write anything SANE that often, but I have a date was Masato-san, and I'm really late. Ja ne!" I blinked, she blew a kiss and ran down the hall.
"Awww. Too bad. Poor Fighter-chan lost her chance with the beautiful social butterfly, before she even pulled a move." Maker's words were overflowing with sarcasm. Shot down again. Damn my luck. I turned my head.
"So, ah, Maker-chan. What are you doing Friday night?" She lifted an eyebrow.
"Was I second on your list?" I didn't know I had any list… Hmmm… I shrugged. She sighed in exasperation.
"I'm sorry. You had your chances." She smirked, stood up so I fell on my ass on the floor, and walked over to the door. I didn't bother to do anything. I just crossed my legs, and hung my head. "Although," she start, her back facing me. She looked rather idiotic with her index finger pointed up. You'd think she found a cure for the common cold or something. Wouldn't be surprising if she did though. "Write me 10 pieces of GOOD POETRY, and I will go on a date with you." She dropped her arm back to her side, and casually walked out of the room. I shook my head. Screw that. It's just NOT worth the effort.
~*~*~*~
After I read this the day after, I kept thinking to myself, 'I will never drink coke again.' Anyway, from your local corny author, ja ne, minna! Don't hate me too bad!
~Icy Blade