jellolids

This was it, Daisuke realized as he unlocked the door to his shiny new ramen shop, he was finally going to achieve his childhood dream.  He paused, his key still in the lock, hardly believing that this moment was actually going to happen.  He gulped.  What if this wasn't real?  What if it was a- what were those things called again?  A hallucination?  Or it could be a dream.  Yeah, a really long, really involved dream.  After all, there was no way that getting a business loan to start up, followed by the hunt for exactly. the. right. store (which his real estate agent had been on the verge of declaring unreal), had been that complicated, right

 “Hey, Sango, do you know where Kagome is?”  InuYasha called from across the camp.  Sango looked up from tending the fire. “She left with Kirara about an hour ago.  Why?” “Damn it, where’d she go?” InuYasha yelled.  Sango’s eyebrows raised. “Home.  She mentioned something about having a date with her boyfriend tonight.  She said she’d be back tomorrow or the day after.” She explained calmly. InuYasha started, and promptly got into Sango’s face. “What do you mean her boyfriend?”  Sango looked him s

  A young man wanders the streets of Tokyo, clawed hands stuffed into the pockets of his  jeans.  He keeps his head down, knowing that  his long red hair is going to attract attention  whether he likes it or not.  Normally, he would cover it up, much like he is covering up his kitsune tails; but he wants to make sure she recognizes him. He has waited nearly five hundred years for this day to come, and he does not want anything to mess it up.   He wrinkles his nose as a car goes past, spraying its exhaust into his face. He sighs,  closing his eyes, remembering a time when  this bustling, polluted city was nothing  more than a small farming v

 *In the High Reaches of the Wind City* She raced up the crowded streets of the Wind City, the wind charts she had received from the disapproving weatherman clenched in her fist, as a long wooden pole that was strapped to her back smacked her, and others, repeatedly.  Half the people, generally those who lived in the High Reaches, knew to dodge anyone running with one of those poles on their back, or risk a bump on the head.  The other half.... well, she was used to hearing a great many curses hurled at her back.  The higher she got in High Reaches, fewer people got in her way, and there were more shouts that were not promises of death and

 "Eat the apple, Nadia."  Nadia just stared at it, recoiling slightly.  She shook her head.  Her stepmother glared at Nadia.  "You will eat the apple."  Nadia looked at her beseechingly.  "No.  You are not getting out of it this time.  The sooner you eat, the sooner I will leave you alone.  Now eat!"    "I'm not hungry."  Nadia said quietly.  Her stepmother laughed sardonically.    "Of course you aren't.  You never are.  I will not let you starve yourself.  You will not leave this breakfast bar until you eat that apple."  Nadia bit her lip.      "I had a lot for lunch."  She said roboticly.  Her stepmother raised her eyebrows.    "Rea

Name: Michaela (Miška) Mladá Nation: SLOVAK REPUBLIC (SLOVAKIA) Age: Appearance is about 19. Hair: Dark brown, slightly wavy, ends at about her waist.  Often, she stuffs it up in a braid or ponytail because she finds it annoying.  Actually, she habitually does this. Eyes: Dark blue.  It's a rather intense coloration, but it suits her. Race: Slavic (i.e. Caucasian with slightly darker coloration) Height: 160 cm (5'3" for America's and United Kingdom's sake) Build: Slim.  Very slim.  It is tempting to call her a stick.  She is not particularly "well-endowed" History: Michaela (or Miška, as she prefers to be known) is the

 When most parents tell their kids not to play with fire, it’s so nothing bad happens to them.  By the time the kid’s twelve or so, the parents leave them alone about it.  Not mine.  When I was a kid, my parents told me not to play with fire so that the house didn’t burn down.  It didn’t teach me not to play with fire; it just taught me to be sneaky about it. I am perfectly aware that playing with fire at the age of three is not normal.  I stopped classifying myself as normal a long time ago.  Normal girls can’t hold fire in the palm of their hands, after a

 Tu m’as dit que tu aimes les roses qui ont la couleur du sang, quand nous étions ensemble. Maintenant, où nous sommes partis, est-ce que tu les aimes   encore? Si non, je suis desolé. Si oui, tu as de la chance; tu les aideras. Les gens me dit que c’est pas juste, que c’est le chemin d'amour.   Je ne les crois pas. C’est justice pour ton parti, ce fin souddain à ton chemin, l’aime-tu   cette justice? Aujourd’hui, c’est pire que normale. Je vois les amoreux, qui marchent main à main comme nous avons fait dans le passé. Voici la justice: parce que tu l