Title: MSU No Gakusei-Tachi Part 1: The Perils of Dorm Life
Author: Kimiko
Genre: Parody/humor, fluff, sap, AU
Warnings: Future lime?, silliness, OOC, bastard!J, yaoi, yuri, subtle self-
insert
Pairings: 1x2, 4x3, 5+Meiran, 13x6, DorothyxRelena, Catherine+Hirde
Disclaimers: The boyz and grrrlz belong to Sunrise and Bandai and any
other rich people who hold a claim to them, all of whom should refrain
from suing a starving college student. Tom's the real cafeteria-head guy at
Hubbard, and belongs presumably to his wife. I don't make any money
from writing fan fiction - pardon me while I die laughing at the very
thought.
Feedback: Would be nice. Flames will be laughed at and possibly posted
on my website (to share the love).
Archive: Anywhere at all. (Darkflame, are you listening?) Please let me
know!
Warnings for the TEASER: Violence toward inanimate objects, Duo-
centric (and he's having a BAD day), Pokemon bashing, view inside a
typical dorm room (might frighten many high school students)
************* is a change in POV or time
~HAJIME~
Duo Maxwell glared impotently at the bright countenance of Ash
Ketchum, whose colorful clothing and sappy grin were currently being
broadcast from Duo's ancient and much abused television set. He dragged
his ass over to the TV, scowled at it, and tried valiantly to change the
channel. The knob, for its part, stubbornly refused to turn. Duo sighed and
moved resolutely on to Plan B.
The Nintendo 64 was, if it was at all possible, even more battered and
abused than the TV. Its front was smudged and smeared with black nail
polish, crisscrossed with rough gouges - battle scars from its ongoing
struggle to beat Duo into submission (which it continued to win) - and its
controller wire was now more duct tape than original. This evil
manifestation of technology-gone-consumerist squatted dumpily atop
Duo's desk, practically glaring at him. Since it had long since refused to
spit out a rented Mortal Kombat: Trilogies cartridge, Duo figured he
would play that.
The game, naturally, decided to choose that day to suddenly die.
"NoooooOOOOooo!" cried Duo, pounding on the N64 for emphasis and
vengeance. He switched the unit off, and it hissed smugly as the power
light faded. Worse, Ash Ketchum and his infuriatingly cute Electric Rat
were back on the screen. Duo bore down on the television's power switch
with all his weight, grunting and straining, until it finally clicked, and the
screen went blank. His relief, however, was short-lived, as he quickly
realized he would now have to deal with the campus' Ethernet system.
Thankfully, there was a pleasant knock on the door.
Duo tore it open, revealing his friends Trowa and Quatre. The two were
standing in the hallway, arms draped casually about each other, and
looking immensely pleased with themselves; Quatre, in fact, was grinning
like the proverbial cat post-canary. Both were slightly flushed and
disheveled.
They had, quite obviously, been boinking again.
Duo sighed and motioned them to come in; at least he wouldn't have to
fuck with his computer, which had even more power over him than his
N64 did. He dragged a couple milk crates out from his closet and
motioned for the others to sit.
"Let's watch some TV," Quatre suggested, noticing perceptively that they
were all sitting around staring at each other.
Duo's eyes took on a mad light; he growled audibly in the general
direction of his television set. "That thing is EVIL," he announced. "I can't
get the channel to change."
"There's nothing on now anyway," Trowa noted.
"Let's listen to some music," Duo suggested, "and play cards or
something." If there was one machine in his possession with which he
could deal, it was definitely his highly modified stereo. The others nodded,
so Duo strode over to his windowsill - three feet deep, six feet wide and
filled with the stereo he lovingly called the God of Death - and put the
new Eminem on random play. Quatre, meanwhile, had dragged out Duo's
battered Coca-Cola deck and begun to deal.
"The name of the game," announced the smallish blond, "is five card stud.
Table limit's fifty cents; deuces and one-eyed jacks are wild. Ante up."
They were halfway through their third hand, and Quatre was losing
pathetically, when the fire alarm went off.
"Oh, EXCELLENT," Duo groused. "This day just gets better and better."
The three friends stood and vacated the tiny room, headed down two
flights of stairs, left the building, and crossed the street, following
everyone else like the freshman sheep they were. On the grass across the
street from Hubbard Hall, they rolled their eyes and stood around tapping
their feet impatiently.
Soon the drill was over, and they filed obediently back into the building,
up the two flights of stairs, and down the hall to Duo's room. Duo blinked
at his clock; they had only fifteen minutes until the cafeteria closed.
"Damn!" he groused. "We have to eat dinner, guys."
"Shiiiiiiit!" Quatre exclaimed. "We'd better run!"
They dashed down the hall to the elevator, pressed the down button -
- And proceeded to wait five minutes as the three elevators passed the
third floor, all going up.
"Fuck it," Duo announced, "I'm taking the stairs." The others agreed, so
they ran down the stairs, down the hall, around the corner, up another
flight of stairs, and into the caf. The woman at the desk, looking extremely
bored, scanned their IDs and waved them past. They grabbed trays, plates,
and silverware, and made their way to the buffet-style serving area.
What greeted them there was not a pleasant sight.
Duo scowled and strode purposefully back toward the main office of the
cafeteria. "Tom!" he shouted. The middle-aged man looked up from
random acts of paperwork; Duo grabbed him by the arm and dragged him
to the food. "What," Duo demanded, "the FUCK," and he began to shout,
"IS *THAT*?!"
"Cajun catfish," answered Tom, unperturbed.
"NO," Duo replied emphatically, "it is NOT."
"Chill," said Quatre, glancing around nervously. "We'll just have salads,
man. It'll be fine."
Grumbling, Duo followed his friends toward the salad bar, where he
proceeded to load four salad bowls with every item on the bar. The three
of them sat in the northwest corner of the room near the big screen TV,
which Duo turned gleefully to MTV. Sitting around one of the little tables,
they began to talk of class.
"So, what do you guys have, anyway?" Quatre asked. They looked at each
other, each one amazed that it was the day before classes and they hadn't
even discussed this.
"I've got Japanese 101 every day at nine o'-FUCKING-clock in the
morning," Duo groused.
"You signed up for it," Trowa pointed out. "I'm in it, too, you know."
"Me too!" Quatre grinned. "This is going to be a blast!"
"Yeah," Duo admitted, "it IS worth getting up in the morning to learn
fucking JAPANESE, man."
"Yeah," said Trowa, "definitely."
~TSUZUKU~
Author: Kimiko
Genre: Parody/humor, fluff, sap, AU
Warnings: Future lime?, silliness, OOC, bastard!J, yaoi, yuri, subtle self-
insert
Pairings: 1x2, 4x3, 5+Meiran, 13x6, DorothyxRelena, Catherine+Hirde
Disclaimers: The boyz and grrrlz belong to Sunrise and Bandai and any
other rich people who hold a claim to them, all of whom should refrain
from suing a starving college student. Tom's the real cafeteria-head guy at
Hubbard, and belongs presumably to his wife. I don't make any money
from writing fan fiction - pardon me while I die laughing at the very
thought.
Feedback: Would be nice. Flames will be laughed at and possibly posted
on my website (to share the love).
Archive: Anywhere at all. (Darkflame, are you listening?) Please let me
know!
Warnings for the TEASER: Violence toward inanimate objects, Duo-
centric (and he's having a BAD day), Pokemon bashing, view inside a
typical dorm room (might frighten many high school students)
************* is a change in POV or time
~HAJIME~
Duo Maxwell glared impotently at the bright countenance of Ash
Ketchum, whose colorful clothing and sappy grin were currently being
broadcast from Duo's ancient and much abused television set. He dragged
his ass over to the TV, scowled at it, and tried valiantly to change the
channel. The knob, for its part, stubbornly refused to turn. Duo sighed and
moved resolutely on to Plan B.
The Nintendo 64 was, if it was at all possible, even more battered and
abused than the TV. Its front was smudged and smeared with black nail
polish, crisscrossed with rough gouges - battle scars from its ongoing
struggle to beat Duo into submission (which it continued to win) - and its
controller wire was now more duct tape than original. This evil
manifestation of technology-gone-consumerist squatted dumpily atop
Duo's desk, practically glaring at him. Since it had long since refused to
spit out a rented Mortal Kombat: Trilogies cartridge, Duo figured he
would play that.
The game, naturally, decided to choose that day to suddenly die.
"NoooooOOOOooo!" cried Duo, pounding on the N64 for emphasis and
vengeance. He switched the unit off, and it hissed smugly as the power
light faded. Worse, Ash Ketchum and his infuriatingly cute Electric Rat
were back on the screen. Duo bore down on the television's power switch
with all his weight, grunting and straining, until it finally clicked, and the
screen went blank. His relief, however, was short-lived, as he quickly
realized he would now have to deal with the campus' Ethernet system.
Thankfully, there was a pleasant knock on the door.
Duo tore it open, revealing his friends Trowa and Quatre. The two were
standing in the hallway, arms draped casually about each other, and
looking immensely pleased with themselves; Quatre, in fact, was grinning
like the proverbial cat post-canary. Both were slightly flushed and
disheveled.
They had, quite obviously, been boinking again.
Duo sighed and motioned them to come in; at least he wouldn't have to
fuck with his computer, which had even more power over him than his
N64 did. He dragged a couple milk crates out from his closet and
motioned for the others to sit.
"Let's watch some TV," Quatre suggested, noticing perceptively that they
were all sitting around staring at each other.
Duo's eyes took on a mad light; he growled audibly in the general
direction of his television set. "That thing is EVIL," he announced. "I can't
get the channel to change."
"There's nothing on now anyway," Trowa noted.
"Let's listen to some music," Duo suggested, "and play cards or
something." If there was one machine in his possession with which he
could deal, it was definitely his highly modified stereo. The others nodded,
so Duo strode over to his windowsill - three feet deep, six feet wide and
filled with the stereo he lovingly called the God of Death - and put the
new Eminem on random play. Quatre, meanwhile, had dragged out Duo's
battered Coca-Cola deck and begun to deal.
"The name of the game," announced the smallish blond, "is five card stud.
Table limit's fifty cents; deuces and one-eyed jacks are wild. Ante up."
They were halfway through their third hand, and Quatre was losing
pathetically, when the fire alarm went off.
"Oh, EXCELLENT," Duo groused. "This day just gets better and better."
The three friends stood and vacated the tiny room, headed down two
flights of stairs, left the building, and crossed the street, following
everyone else like the freshman sheep they were. On the grass across the
street from Hubbard Hall, they rolled their eyes and stood around tapping
their feet impatiently.
Soon the drill was over, and they filed obediently back into the building,
up the two flights of stairs, and down the hall to Duo's room. Duo blinked
at his clock; they had only fifteen minutes until the cafeteria closed.
"Damn!" he groused. "We have to eat dinner, guys."
"Shiiiiiiit!" Quatre exclaimed. "We'd better run!"
They dashed down the hall to the elevator, pressed the down button -
- And proceeded to wait five minutes as the three elevators passed the
third floor, all going up.
"Fuck it," Duo announced, "I'm taking the stairs." The others agreed, so
they ran down the stairs, down the hall, around the corner, up another
flight of stairs, and into the caf. The woman at the desk, looking extremely
bored, scanned their IDs and waved them past. They grabbed trays, plates,
and silverware, and made their way to the buffet-style serving area.
What greeted them there was not a pleasant sight.
Duo scowled and strode purposefully back toward the main office of the
cafeteria. "Tom!" he shouted. The middle-aged man looked up from
random acts of paperwork; Duo grabbed him by the arm and dragged him
to the food. "What," Duo demanded, "the FUCK," and he began to shout,
"IS *THAT*?!"
"Cajun catfish," answered Tom, unperturbed.
"NO," Duo replied emphatically, "it is NOT."
"Chill," said Quatre, glancing around nervously. "We'll just have salads,
man. It'll be fine."
Grumbling, Duo followed his friends toward the salad bar, where he
proceeded to load four salad bowls with every item on the bar. The three
of them sat in the northwest corner of the room near the big screen TV,
which Duo turned gleefully to MTV. Sitting around one of the little tables,
they began to talk of class.
"So, what do you guys have, anyway?" Quatre asked. They looked at each
other, each one amazed that it was the day before classes and they hadn't
even discussed this.
"I've got Japanese 101 every day at nine o'-FUCKING-clock in the
morning," Duo groused.
"You signed up for it," Trowa pointed out. "I'm in it, too, you know."
"Me too!" Quatre grinned. "This is going to be a blast!"
"Yeah," Duo admitted, "it IS worth getting up in the morning to learn
fucking JAPANESE, man."
"Yeah," said Trowa, "definitely."
~TSUZUKU~