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31_days2008-02-10 11:45 pm
swollenfoot.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2008-02-10 11:45 pm
[February 10] [The Melancholy of Suzumiya Haruhi] Vision is dangerous
Title: vision is dangerous
Day/Theme: February 10 / and are forever damned with Lucifer
Series: The Melancholy of Suzumiya Haruhi
Characters: Kyon, Koizumi, Haruhi
Rating: er. . . PG for the stuff you can insinuate with a little squinting and mild swearing
Day/Theme: February 10 / and are forever damned with Lucifer
Series: The Melancholy of Suzumiya Haruhi
Characters: Kyon, Koizumi, Haruhi
Rating: er. . . PG for the stuff you can insinuate with a little squinting and mild swearing
Ordinarily, "skimpy" was a word one would associate with bikinis and playboy bunny attires, certainly not to one's own clothes. At the moment, though, they were little more than patches of leather and a number of strings and buckles that held stuff in place. It was amazing how stifling such a skimpy outfit could get. Then again, it could be the tight quarters and the over-the-top lighting that was slowly strangling him.
"Kyon!" came the grating voice over. It didn't help ward his impending migraine. "What's with that scrunched up look on your face?! I said passion, PASSION---not constipation! You look like you're about to keel over from some nasty infection, geeze. What were you sick with anyway?"
I'm being blinded here, you idiot, he thought angrily. And yes, I should've stayed home. . . Damn that flu for not hitting hard enough!
"I suggest we do as we're told," came the voice of reason, much too near his ears. It made his spine prickle horribly. "The faster Suzumiya-san is contented, the faster we regain freedom."
That maybe be true, but it didn't make Kyon any less tempted to slug him right across that snarky grin of his.
"Koizumi-kun, angle your arm more acutely. Yes, yes, perfect! And Kyon, thrust your hips just a bit forward. I said, forward!"
What forward? Any more forward and he'll be flat on his face---or worse. How contorted did she want them to be?
"Urgh! It's all about symmetry, Kyon!" she grounded out as she marched around the various photographic paraphernalia scattered about the clubroom to make her way towards them. "It's something you don't seem to have a handle on. Do you know what separates a master from some mediocre dabbler?"
Sanity?
"Vision! One must have vision!" So saying, Haruhi grabbed both men by the waist and smashed them together. Poker face not withstanding, Kyon's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets as she dangerously hyperextended his back. The only thing supporting him was Koizumi's hand on his lower back which she next removed and rearranged---
"Oi! WATCH IT!"
---just a tad lower. The other hand she positioned hovering just over the junction of where Kyon's jeans began (and it was impossibly low-rise, mind), which with a discontented tsk of her tongue, she then moved up, a hairsbreadth over one mesh-shirted breast (Which was apparently cold. Go figure.) There was a certain tension in that semi-stooped position Koizumi was in. It might have been more uncomfortable than Kyon's pose, as his reluctant, half-smile was starting to quaver. In fact, it was probably as comfortable as hell.
Not that Kyon was feeling particularly sympathetic to that spineless bastard.
"What was her vision again?" he muttered, feeling just about ready to pass out.
"Light-bringer," Koizumi said weakly. "The various appetites of the great god Apollo. Something like that."
"How about fire, brimstone, and eternal damnation?"
"That's about right."
Which was all they were able to say before the master photographer repositioned them again like marionettes.
End.
"Kyon!" came the grating voice over. It didn't help ward his impending migraine. "What's with that scrunched up look on your face?! I said passion, PASSION---not constipation! You look like you're about to keel over from some nasty infection, geeze. What were you sick with anyway?"
I'm being blinded here, you idiot, he thought angrily. And yes, I should've stayed home. . . Damn that flu for not hitting hard enough!
"I suggest we do as we're told," came the voice of reason, much too near his ears. It made his spine prickle horribly. "The faster Suzumiya-san is contented, the faster we regain freedom."
That maybe be true, but it didn't make Kyon any less tempted to slug him right across that snarky grin of his.
"Koizumi-kun, angle your arm more acutely. Yes, yes, perfect! And Kyon, thrust your hips just a bit forward. I said, forward!"
What forward? Any more forward and he'll be flat on his face---or worse. How contorted did she want them to be?
"Urgh! It's all about symmetry, Kyon!" she grounded out as she marched around the various photographic paraphernalia scattered about the clubroom to make her way towards them. "It's something you don't seem to have a handle on. Do you know what separates a master from some mediocre dabbler?"
Sanity?
"Vision! One must have vision!" So saying, Haruhi grabbed both men by the waist and smashed them together. Poker face not withstanding, Kyon's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets as she dangerously hyperextended his back. The only thing supporting him was Koizumi's hand on his lower back which she next removed and rearranged---
"Oi! WATCH IT!"
---just a tad lower. The other hand she positioned hovering just over the junction of where Kyon's jeans began (and it was impossibly low-rise, mind), which with a discontented tsk of her tongue, she then moved up, a hairsbreadth over one mesh-shirted breast (Which was apparently cold. Go figure.) There was a certain tension in that semi-stooped position Koizumi was in. It might have been more uncomfortable than Kyon's pose, as his reluctant, half-smile was starting to quaver. In fact, it was probably as comfortable as hell.
Not that Kyon was feeling particularly sympathetic to that spineless bastard.
"What was her vision again?" he muttered, feeling just about ready to pass out.
"Light-bringer," Koizumi said weakly. "The various appetites of the great god Apollo. Something like that."
"How about fire, brimstone, and eternal damnation?"
"That's about right."
Which was all they were able to say before the master photographer repositioned them again like marionettes.
End.