Sasha (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
throughthefireandflames) wrote2000-01-07 09:14 pm
throughthefireandflames) wrote2000-01-07 09:14 pm
Fanfic for Dee
AN EPIC TALE OF A STALINIST BASTARD AND CUTE FUZZY LUMPKIN SPIDERS -
a.k.a actually amusing and awfully adorable awesomeness.
By: An Essay, a Dee's Seekrit Santa. <3 Enjoy, and don't read this while you're near an electrical outlet, or... THEY MIGHT COME FOR YOU, TOO.
Also hurrrr I suck at my Metal Gears and MGS characterization is so new to me, so Volgin might be off here, but hey, I tried. SOB. 8(
~*~*~*~*~*~
All he had to do was get crap from the grocery store for Culinary Arts.
All he had to do was get down the hill to get downtown, to get out of school grounds and walk into the modern jungle of towering buildings. It wasn't a difficult feat, especially not for a man of his stamina and sheer strength. In fact, it wasn't even a feat in the very slightest.
So why, oh why did his progress have to be halted by this? An attack in a patch of tall grass is what any person would least expect on a bright, sunny day, but did it really have to be of this sort? The communist snarled unpleasantly, feeling his skin ravaged by fangs, electricity flaring within his blood and slowly leaking from his body. The attack was almost ferocious. Almost.
The attackers?
Growling, shrieking, squirming, furry, insectoid balls of fluff.
Cute, precious, bold, electric, 4-inch spiders.
This was just bloody ridiculous. How could filthy little fuzzballs be enough to temporarily incapacitate him?! Somehow, they were. Tens, no, hundreds of tiny fuzzy Bachuru clung relentlessly to his flesh, spider teeth piercing the skin and drawing just enough blood to 'suck' from. No, it wasn't the blood itself they were eating. Heavens no. Bachuru don't feast on blood, after all. They aren't exactly vampiric.
They were feasting on the electricity in his blood.
They are electric-type Pokemon, after all.
Disgusting beasts! He knew that being surrounded by this pests was going to be nothing more than trouble. The Stalinist has been reminded of this numerous times, he recalls as he swats at the merciless arachnids. They were wretched little fuckers. They clung like nothing else, and like glue on paper, peeling them off wouldn't be so easy.
Smacking at them was futile. He needed more, and electrical attacks would do nothing more than feed their appetite for his current. They were feasting heartily on him as if he was a filling gous v yablokach.
If only he didn't harbor such a nasty aquaphobia.
He continued to flick his hands at them and began to run, looking for anything- a stick, a rock, anything that would pose a threat to these repulsive little shits. Every rushed step he took resulted in a collective squeaking cry from some of the Bachuru. Few fell off on his way to find the object he so desired to rid him of these dirty bugs: a stick.
It's not every day you'd see a hulking, powerful Communist wield a stick to rid himself of teeny-tiny bugs- in fact, it might even be considered degrading. Yet these bugs, and no one around...
He wielded it. He began to attack each and every spider. Some took more time than others to finally drop from his body and scamper off. Some already did before his attack, now with a full belly and a satisfied state of mind. They began to run off into the brush. More than half of them had left him, and he was right around the corner of freedom from these fuckers.
But he wasn't quick enough to succeed before he was spotted.
"!"
Degrading, indeed. Of all people to least expect to see the almighty Yevgeny B. Volgin attacking with not his electricity, but a twig to eliminate a bunch of little spiders...
"Zhenya?"
Let's just say it was just plain strange.
a.k.a actually amusing and awfully adorable awesomeness.
By: An Essay, a Dee's Seekrit Santa. <3 Enjoy, and don't read this while you're near an electrical outlet, or... THEY MIGHT COME FOR YOU, TOO.
Also hurrrr I suck at my Metal Gears and MGS characterization is so new to me, so Volgin might be off here, but hey, I tried. SOB. 8(
~*~*~*~*~*~
All he had to do was get crap from the grocery store for Culinary Arts.
All he had to do was get down the hill to get downtown, to get out of school grounds and walk into the modern jungle of towering buildings. It wasn't a difficult feat, especially not for a man of his stamina and sheer strength. In fact, it wasn't even a feat in the very slightest.
So why, oh why did his progress have to be halted by this? An attack in a patch of tall grass is what any person would least expect on a bright, sunny day, but did it really have to be of this sort? The communist snarled unpleasantly, feeling his skin ravaged by fangs, electricity flaring within his blood and slowly leaking from his body. The attack was almost ferocious. Almost.
The attackers?
Growling, shrieking, squirming, furry, insectoid balls of fluff.
Cute, precious, bold, electric, 4-inch spiders.
This was just bloody ridiculous. How could filthy little fuzzballs be enough to temporarily incapacitate him?! Somehow, they were. Tens, no, hundreds of tiny fuzzy Bachuru clung relentlessly to his flesh, spider teeth piercing the skin and drawing just enough blood to 'suck' from. No, it wasn't the blood itself they were eating. Heavens no. Bachuru don't feast on blood, after all. They aren't exactly vampiric.
They were feasting on the electricity in his blood.
They are electric-type Pokemon, after all.
Disgusting beasts! He knew that being surrounded by this pests was going to be nothing more than trouble. The Stalinist has been reminded of this numerous times, he recalls as he swats at the merciless arachnids. They were wretched little fuckers. They clung like nothing else, and like glue on paper, peeling them off wouldn't be so easy.
Smacking at them was futile. He needed more, and electrical attacks would do nothing more than feed their appetite for his current. They were feasting heartily on him as if he was a filling gous v yablokach.
If only he didn't harbor such a nasty aquaphobia.
He continued to flick his hands at them and began to run, looking for anything- a stick, a rock, anything that would pose a threat to these repulsive little shits. Every rushed step he took resulted in a collective squeaking cry from some of the Bachuru. Few fell off on his way to find the object he so desired to rid him of these dirty bugs: a stick.
It's not every day you'd see a hulking, powerful Communist wield a stick to rid himself of teeny-tiny bugs- in fact, it might even be considered degrading. Yet these bugs, and no one around...
He wielded it. He began to attack each and every spider. Some took more time than others to finally drop from his body and scamper off. Some already did before his attack, now with a full belly and a satisfied state of mind. They began to run off into the brush. More than half of them had left him, and he was right around the corner of freedom from these fuckers.
But he wasn't quick enough to succeed before he was spotted.
"!"
Degrading, indeed. Of all people to least expect to see the almighty Yevgeny B. Volgin attacking with not his electricity, but a twig to eliminate a bunch of little spiders...
"Zhenya?"
Let's just say it was just plain strange.