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jjbakink It's time for your punishment, baby. Or just time to fill out the prompts.
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Characters + and/or pairings, followed by kink, followed by short description if you want to get more technical in your request.
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!! FILLED PROMPTS !! , organized with a tag system.
CURRENT UNFILLED PROMPTS: 42
Prompt posting format!!:
Characters + and/or pairings, followed by kink, followed by short description if you want to get more technical in your request.
Please reread the basic etiquette/rules up here if you're still confused.
If you have any questions/comments, just tweet @mitler. Because I'm too lazy to make a mod post. That's weird.
!! FILLED PROMPTS !! , organized with a tag system.
CURRENT UNFILLED PROMPTS: 42
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Date: 2014-04-03 03:25 pm (UTC)Cyber Ball Run
Date: 2014-04-05 11:21 pm (UTC)He hoped to see a country being reborn, and truth be told, the New United States looked like that: filled with blood, mucus, cries and potential, like a newborn child. Nothing bad for a country that had exploited itself until the very land where it was founded exploded and repelled all the shit it had been buried on it. Not bad for a country that had seen the horror of a civil war not so long ago.
It was 2090, and Gyro Zeppeli had just arrived from Naples. He was willing to win the Steel Ball Run, so the Regina e Imperatrice could listen to him, her judge and executioner, and cancel the death sentence of a kid that had nothing to do with the override of her military satellites.
So here he was, smelling the most putrid scent of salt, water and garbage, cleaning the parts of his motorcycle, Valkyrie. The god-like roar of her engine was a wake-up call for the assholes that were tending the inscription booth: the mutated twins he saw focused too much on his teeth, on his flexsteel jacket, on the confidence of his pace: poor idiots, he thought, thinking they could scare him with their bloated eyes. He paid with two oxygen bullets and a canister of clean water, more than enough so they didn´t feel like using the scanning pulse on Valkyrie...
Because he knew those Ducati controllers of the AI were worth more than his life here. Because there were two compartments with canned food, and he didn´t want anyone to know about zombie horse or the rest of his supplies… less about his weapons…
Gyro mounted, and he made Valkyrie howl across the road until he couldn´t see the ocean anymore. Why someone would make the race start in the rift of St. Andrew? No idea. The place was reeking with the scent of putrid oil, sweat and sulfur: the land under the rift had broken decades ago, giving the Americans a nice view of the core of the earth or something like that. He noticed a place surrounded by people, and went right into it, curious…
“Wasn´t he the one that won the derby on the sludge plains?”
“Yeah, the kid got shot with mechaplague, Joestar, was it?”
“He´s gonna get himself killed if he tries to ride that piece of old junk…”
The other riders were having a lot of fun, or so it seemed, as a guy with blond hair tried to engage the AI of a motorcycle that had seen better days. Gyro saw the glimpses of metal on his legs, along with the horrid scars and shards of broken circuits under the holes of his pants. So that was the mechaplague… the virus that turned cells into machines, but not of the good kind: the muscles of his legs were unplugged, infected clusters of code and metal that didn´t walk, or move, or anything.
There was a metal spike tearing off his left leg already, along with dirt covering his chest and blood on his face. He had no chance of succeeding, Gyro thought, but if he managed to ride that thing and plug the right code into the old AI then…
Then this Joestar kid would go beyond human capacity.
However, the feeling of something in his pocket made him turn around: someone was whispering behind him.
“Oi creep, were you talking to my ass? ´Cause I can’t hear you with my ass” He caught the blubbering idiot with his fingers extended near his weapons: a metalmonger, no doubt, wishing to find some good thing to steal. Gyro cursed under his breath and took the steel ball the thief was looking at. “Yeah, is steel from the inner Vesuvius core, asshole, it will carve a nice spiral in your guts if you keep lookin´at it…”
And all of sudden, all gazes turned on him, from the mutants to the creepy guys with the augmentations, all looked at him and the monger, making Gyro wish there was something as La Scuadra de Esecuzione there. But well, he wasn’t in the Empire….so there wasn’t anyone that could stop him…
When the slick fingers of the thief reached the ball, Gyro made it spin with a single movement of his hand; it escaped from the leather net and ran across the arm of the other man, tearing apart his clothes, opening wounds in his skin. “Told ya…” Gyro sneered, shrugging and pulling the wounded arm and making the ball keep spinning in his shoulder.
The scream coming from the thief´s mouth made everyone look at them, most in awe, some in despair as his flesh was shaped with the energy of the spinning ball: a spiral made of tissue, bone and still-working organs appeared in his body, making everyone to run away from there. The ball began to slow down, and jumped right into Gyro´s hip, encasing itself within the net where it came from.
The monger ran away, still screaming, leaving him alone. Well, it seemed there was no one there so Gyro could go back to his tent and-
“WAIT!”
Well, there were some brave people there, right?
He turned around again to see the Joestar kid crawling across the mud, way too close for his comfort, his hand already in the spinning ball.
“DON’T TOUCH THAT!”
Too late.
He saw how the circuits made by the mechaplague glowed softly in the legs of the other rider, how his entire body was launched upwards with a motion impossible for a sick man; when he fell, he stood in both legs for a second, just a second.
But he fell back into the ground again, looking at Gyro with his blue eyes, his entire body trembling in pure awe and force of will.
“What was that?!”
Well, Gyro didn´t know, either. He just stood still, wondering what had just happened.
“Teach me how to do that! Please”
It was the first day of the Steel Ball Run, three hours before it started, when Gyro Zeppeli knew Johnny Joestar.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
He was still crawling, his motorcycle working without him giving a clear command to the old AI. Johnny knew there was no point in being there besides realizing if he could be healed at last or not. There seemed to be hope, a small glimpse of it, if it weren´t for the pride of that man he would have learnt the secret behind the energy that made his useless legs full of energy...
Because for a moment, Johnny felt the disconnected machinery of the mechaplague as a part of himself; for a second he could feel his whole body, instead of just his upper half. However, the pride of the man that held such power didn´t let him reach it once more.
So there he was, spitting mud and curses along an old machine, lucky enough to reach the other riders. There was Sire Brando with his prize-winning engine of clockworking circuits, Mountain Tim the bounty hunter, Avdol and his desert-proof machine… and Gyro Zeppeli, the man with the power of spin.
“You´re a lucky kid for being still alive” was his greeting. More than enough to make him feel anger coursing in his blood “Now, you should be able to ride that thing with the power the spin gave to you... whatever it is”
Johnny growled like a feral cat and heard the sound of an electrical trumpet across the rift: a huge vessel of iron, one of those old military nuclear planes was flying all over the place, screens floating around it as the lightning conductors gathered the force of the oncoming storm and gave it to the vessel.
The race was about to begin.
The second sound almost made his ears explode, but he kept calm. Power…it was a matter of power: Johnny focused in the beats of the engine and the sounds of his own heart, there had to be a way to make them synchronize, to make then harmonize as one to give energy to the machinery in his legs...
And all of a sudden, he found it; a crevice in the ripples of energy within the engine and within himself. A sequence of heart and machine, and he moved.
He jumped backwards, landing in the seat of his motorcycle. The roar of more than ten thousand machines around him as he reached out for his gas mask, feeling the pieces of metal expanding in his head one by one, forming his signature helmet.
“Hey, Johnny!” He heard the voice of Gyro, behind the noise and the voices, behind his scales-and-vents helmet “Keep it up; this will be a fun ride!”
Thunder and siren rolled in the sky, and he saw Gyro accelerating with an impossible speed, he heard Brando snarling, he felt his legs merging with his bike, obeying the commands of each of his braincells, increasing his speed as each little machine of his body combined with his flesh. He passed one, two, three, four men quickly, making them yell, making them feel surprised.
As the noise of rain surrounded him, as he only saw the slope that would make him jump across the rift of St. Andrew, he only thought one thing.
He had never felt so alive.
Re: Cyber Ball Run
Date: 2014-04-06 10:16 am (UTC)THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR FILLING THIS PROMPT ANON AND IT'S EVERYTHING I WANTED IT TO BE OMG
and i LOVE worldbuilding so what you did with the postapocalyptic USA was perfect ^o^