Authorramble: This is, um. Crack. Yeah. A long time ago, back in the days with the other fics inspired in this way, I was given a third prompt that I could come up with nothing for. Someday, I looked back on it, merged it with an idea going through my head (well, two: one idea a friend gave me, and a desire to attempt a lemon), and came up with... this. Strange. 'Different'. Thing. ... Don't worry, there's no real lemon. I suppose you could say there's lime, but it isn't lemon.
(The prompt was a very innocent torch, curtain, liquor, shirt, curiosity. Needless to say, I used a very different "curiousity", and pretty much neglected the ones I chose the neglect. Hey, do you want me making vulgar jokes about pubes and curtains? No? Thought so.)
And despite the subject matter's portrayal, I assure you that I'm plenty accepting of these sort of things.
... It's just kind of funny when you think about Soren and this in conjunction. I feel like I've just sullied his name, and yet...
... Hey, Soren fanclub? Um. Don't shoot me. Take this with an open mind and everything. And definitely not seriously. The last thing you want to do is take this fic seriously. This is not serious. THIS IS NOT SERIOUS. ::flails:: THIS. NOT SERIOUS. OKAY? OKAY. (My dignity is just about dead now.)
Disclaimer: I still don't own Intelligent Systems or Fire Emblem. Furthermore, this fic is not serious.
Now With Fifty Percent More Sexuality Angst
Soren, after gratuitous amounts of liquor, stumbled giddily into the dimly lit room, giggling madly. The mage had no idea what was funny, just that it was completely, irredeemably hilarious. The thought came that it had to do with Ike. That's right. Ike. And something about it being the first time with alcohol. Something about lies and secrets and-- what the hell. The look on Ike's face was funny.
The drunk thought back for a moment, trying to remember exactly what had happened. They were both plenty drunk. Obviously, given that they were drinking, and drunk, and... anyway. Soren was crying a bit, laughing a bit, and Ike was absurdly close for some reason. Ike, being a drunk man with a libido, had decided to situate himself with Soren in a conveniently located bed. The ceiling was some kind of weird yellow color that was hilarious while half-conscious, and Soren had giggled.
"What're you gigglin a'?" Ike slurred with a frown, staring down at Soren with his usual scowl, but with some strange expression granted by his drunken state. Soren continued to giggle.
"You're--" the submissive one began, followed by another giggle; "you're gonna do it? Like-- like birds, bunnies, bees?"
"Uh-huh," the muscular one said in response. Soren continued to giggle. "Whas funny?"
"I di'n't know you liked stuff like that."
Ike frowned. "Ya know I do-- I had solililolilo--" he coughed, and tried again: "solilolik--"
"Soliloquies," Soren offered, mental dictionary perfectly intact.
"Yeh, soliloli-- shi'. Whatever." Ike began to vainly attempt to work at a buckle, to find that he had no coordination whatsoever.
"You were talkin to youself?" the scholar naturally asked.
Ike frowned. "Isn't a soliloli... ting where ya cry a bunch and wonder 'bout yar head?"
"No," Soren responded with a giggle. "I'ssa talkin' t'yourself when nobody's 'round."
"Wha'if there's people?"
"Monologue in made-uph stuff, a' address i'life."
Ike nodded, pretending to understand while finally resolving to ripping his cape off without minding the buckle. "An' whereya crya bunch?"
"Thass angst. You done yet?"
"Nuh. Buckle's time's forever."
"Dun make me undress mahself."
Ike growled from inside his shirt, fighting to remove it while his head remained trapped. "Why dunya?"
"Not romannic."
"Who fuckin cares? Shtrip."
Soren sighed, then become lost, like Ike, within the robe. Having one piece to remove instead of two, Soren, done, watched Ike as the frustrated man attempted to remove his buckle.
Ike abruptly stopped working at his buckle and turned to stare at Soren's chest. "Whassat?"
"Whossat," Soren corrected. "I'm Soren, y'know'at."
"Nuh, dat."
Soren looked down at Ike's finger. "Dassa nipple?"
Annoyed, Ike aired his point: "Dassa boob."
"Yah?"
"Wimmen have boobs."
"Oh, right." Soren nodded. "I'av boobs."
"Yurra wimmen?"
Soren gave Ike a confused look. "Di'n't I tell ya?"
"Wha?"
"I toldya."
"Di'not."
"Tha time by da woods--"
"Oh, Branned stuff--"
"Dashwat I said?" Soren slurred, confused. "Well, Imma girl."
"... Wha?"
"They thought I wassa guy 'cause I hadda big clit, an' thought someone juss snipped." Soren nodded knowingly. "'Bout a year 'go, though, I grew these'n Begnion."
"Y'said y'found you're Branded in Manial books," Ike reiterated, completely confused.
"Thawassa lass-minute cop out. I was gonna tellya', but."
Ike abruptly began to dress.
"H-hey!" Soren demanded, throwing herself upon Ike. "Wha'bout--"
"I 'ready angsted. I know I dun li'e girls."
"Elincia said--"
"Iwassadrunk."
"Yer drunk," Soren protested.
"More drunk wit 'Linci," Ike amended. "Get dressed a' go 'way."
She paused and continued to giggle. Yes. That was it. Ike's face was funny. She couldn't help but think that the problem usually came the other way around, but it was so amusing to Soren at this moment that it was hardly a problem, and she simply giggled.
And furthermore, she resolved, she would have to get more alcohol.
Endnotes: Despite commonly writing entire stories with nameless characters, it was surprisingly difficult to simply go through most of a fic with no gender-relative pronouns for one character.
... Also, this is exactly why I don't usually write through writer's block. I have a feeling I'm going to regret ever writing this in a few days.
In fact, at the moment, I'm extremely tempted to take this down immediately.
Ormiss better appreciate this.
