Writing Request Meme

[stripping.livejournal.com]

1. Comment to this post listing your guidelines for taking requests. (What characters you'll write, etc.)
2. Others comment to you requesting fic. May be specific or vague in their requests, depends what they feel like.
3. Fill it to their specifications~
4. ???
5. Profit

Comments

[material_guy]

Shelly hiccupped, the contraction of his diaphragm no doubt a natural reaction to being face to face with injustice.
“I say!” Another hiccup, another try at getting the words out. “I dare say! The sense of justice that envelopes my soul with this costume cannot be described by any word BUT magic!”

After the shock of actually getting the distinguished gentleman to wrap himself in a white shower curtain like a toga with a red shampoo hat worn at the waist and a red kitchen towel tied unevenly around his neck to serve as a very short mantle, Greed didn’t have any right to be surprised by anything else that might have occured. Regardless, he couldn’t help another serving of incredulity at the fact that someone so obviously blitzed could speak without any hint of a slur.

“Just looking upon such an act of evil has made my epiglottis to close up! I cannot even breathe properly for righteous rage!”
“You’ve never had the hiccups before?”
“A hiccup is the auditory manifestation of my epiglottis closing. With rage. Over injustice.”
“I think something in booze makes most people hiccup, but…”
“Nonsense. I have drunk not but tea since this evening began!”
“It’s still tea with liquor in it,” Greed insisted. Shelly would hear none of this, now considering the tea cup in his hands. There was nothing particular about it; his host, the owner of the Devil’s Nest, didn’t keep many tea cups around, but one had been procured for his use that evening.
But the more he thought about it, the more unnatural it seemed for a man such as his host to keep fine china about, much less unbroken. Greed was… not a delicate man, to put it politely.

“Mr. Greed.” Another hiccup. “From where, may I ask, did you procure this particular artifact?”
“Where did I get the tea cup?” Greed clarified, going to simpler terms and mumbling under his breath. “Yer the only guy I know who speaks more flowery when drunk…”
“Yes. Where did you get this teacup. The contents of which inspire within me a sense of not merely my usual honor but justice.”
“That? Nnn… I think it was in the same loot we got when we ransacked when makin’ our way down here to Dublith. Our Nest Egg so to speak. Came from the same richy rich haunt we got my camera thingy.”

If The Community could inspire a sense of serendipity, of foreordained happenings in a world without accidents, alcohol could solidify those inspirations. Because nobody knew the will of The Community, it could only be assumed to be something too brilliant to be understood by mortals—or even immortals!