The Last Remnant may never see PS3 release.

DDDDDDX WRY WRYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

Started by me and the hugest dork ever the idiot Juju in my notebook. Me in purple, Juju in green. LOL Barney colors. Fitting, though, since this is like the most juvenile thing evar.

*Note: The Mr. No-Socks in the story=/=Noctis. C:

“Mr. Two-Socks! I demand you stop that at once!” Mr. No-Socks demanded. Then, Mr. Two-Socks threw a whole bag/sack of potatoes at Mr. No-Socks.

Mr. No-Socks caught the bag (or was it a sack?) and frowned. “Thank you,” he said stiffly. “I shall enjoy potatoes with my supper tonight.”

“You’re welcome!” said Mr. Two-Socks, beginning to pelt Mr. No-Socks with full-grown spuds.

“You—” Mr. No-Socks began, catching a spud only to get smacked in the face with another. He sputtered. “—Imbecile!”

“Buttface!” shouted Mr. Two-Socks! “I told you to never call me that!” he yelled, full of rage.

“Imbecile!” Mr. No-Socks shouted. “Imbecile, imbecile, imbecile!!”

“BUTTFACE!” sang Mr. Two-Socks. “I’m calling YOUR MOM!!” HA!”

Mr. No-Socks twitched. His right eye twitched. His left eye twitched. His right arm twitched. His left leg twitched. His buttcheeks twitched. “I,” he yelled, “AM GOING TO KILL YOU!” He sprinted for the stairs.

:O Mr. Two-Socks threw this little thingy-ma-jig that turned into an air thingy that he jumped after to the ground, and locked the whole apt.

Mr. No-Socks paused on the stairs. “…Well that’s new.”

Then a bucket of water fell on his head. “…Story of my life….”

moar arrP stuff.

Read more »

This is an example of how I can’t handle any kind of deadline. This drabble fanfic comm’s round 10 ends in two days, and I don’t even…I mean, I thought up a couple, actually (hand)wrote one, but I’m sitting here going, “I should type this,” and then that feeling of being on a deadline comes up and I’m all “…Dx nausea. DDDDDDDx” and despite having three fics planned for this round, I’m probably not going to submit any of them and then the fics will just sit in my notebook, gathering sad, dusty, neglected woe. Just. ASDFGKL;

Every time I try to type up something I’d handwritten, I somehow…can’t. And yet I can type up stuff like the most recent round robin that I’d made up on the spot? I don’t understand myself. DDDx I haven’t posted fic to my eljay in liek months. I think I’ve forgotten how or or…something. ;_;

ETA: …I think the problem may be my word processor. I just can’t open it without freezing up, for some reason. :/

o_o Is that…?

:O Sachikoooooooooooooooo~~~~~ :DDDDDDD♥

Otherwise, an extremely dull episode. Blah.

He realized he was being followed almost immediately.

Almost immediately, because for the first two seconds, he had tripped on the tricky step of the store’s entrance, and he had jammed his toe against the side of the doorway and it hurt like a bitch and it’d been healing so nicely and now he had to go down to the pharmacy for some ointment to put on the damn thing and he reallllly didn’t want to do that because the quickest way there passed the cemetery and he didn’t have the time to go the long way and hey, was he being followed? Oh goddammit.

Huffing a sigh through his mouth, he straightened from the doorway and turned toward home. Halfway there, he turned toward the pharmacy. He really needed that damn ointment and his toe was hurting too much now for him to go the long way, even if Amia would forgive him for being a little late despite his fervent promises to the contrary the last time she’d smacked his brains out for being late.

The cemetery route it would have to be, then, and while he was there, maybe he could pass through the cemetery and corner his tail and ask the sucker what he wanted. No one, as a rule, passed or passed through the cemetery for fun, and he was nearly sure there funeral hadn’t been scheduled today. He would have seen the procession of black cars by now if there had been.

He walked as quickly as his toe would let him, and, almost before he could register it, he was at the cemetery entrance. Everyone going to the cemetery experienced this, of getting there before realizing it or registering the journey there. He knew, intellectually, that the stores standing nearby were a flower shop and a restaurant, but the memory of walking past them was foggy in his brain, like an early-morning dream.

He hesitated before the entrance, his right hand sapping the cold from metal that never really got warm, and then he pushed the gate open, the hinges making nary a creak, and stepped inside.

…? But…haven’t they seen an iai before? Dayuu used—

Oh, right. Dayuu used a short blade and backhanded style very much like an iai, but it wasn’t properly iaido since she never re-sheathed the blade. Gotcha.

OW my wrist…I has carpal tunnel sobsob

row, row, row, row your boat~ gently down the

I am so hungry right now. neeeeed…foooooooooood………….

or, y’know. soem Araki-w-long-hair-again. That works, too. ~nomnomnom~

I wish I had the presence of mind not to vent-punch with my dominant hand. It’s already a little defective and I fucking need this hand

I hate summer. I hate summer so fucking much

…okay I admit by now I’m a shipper of Doukoku/Dayuu.

…except I have this vague inkling Doukoku might actually be Dayuu’s daughter, in which case…yeah. DDD8?

has done nothing the past couple of days.

/lazy

…the wait is going to kill me.

…also, I may end up getting two copies of this, if the NA ver doesn’t include dual voice tracks. Both the JP and ENG voice acting sounds awesome so far. @_@;;