[personal profile] tactician
Fandom: Dynasty Warriors
Genre: CRACK.
Characters: Ling Tong, Girl!Gan Ning
Warnings: Done for the Musou Meme. Prompt was genderbend. Doubles as prompt 'incredibly incredulous' for warriorslash50 challenge.

“What the hell,” said Ling Tong, wondering if he had inadvertently hit some sort of pole without noticing while climbing into Gan Ning’s tent, but no, there were no poles. There was just Gan Ning, with this sort of half-amused, half-curious expression on his (her?) face as he sat (crass as ever, with legs spread wide and back bent over) and tried to fondle his chest. “Who the fuck are you,” Ling Tong followed up, because he was always very eloquent and a top notch example of etiquette.

“Check it out!” Gan Ning said, brightening as he saw his rival (sometimes friend) walk in. He straightened, sending those things wobbling, and thrust them out like they were prized cows. “I’ve got boobs!”

Ling Tong slowly trailed his eyes up from Gan Ning’s chest to his face, with a look of mixed embarrassment, confusion, and abject horror. Gan Ning did, in fact, have breasts (rather generous ones), and his waist looked thinner and his jaw-line rounder and the ridges of his muscles less pronounced on slender arms.

“What did you do?!” Ling Tong sputtered as he turned red in the face, because if something was wrong with the world, it was, without fail, somehow Gan Ning’s fault. “Why are yo- WHAT ARE YOU DOING.”

“Pretty nice rack, eh? I thought so too.” Gan Ning said, looking smug as he pulled Ling Tong’s arm forward and yanked the man’s hand against his right breast. Ling Tong had, in fact, never touched a woman’s breast before, and the idea that the first one he would touch would be long to Gan Ning of all people was enough to make him absolutely speechless with humiliation.

To be honest, it was rather nice, though. Men were not soft in places like this, with just enough give and just enough curvature – Gan Ning did have a very well-kept body as a man, and it seemed only natural in translation that he’d have a very nice figure as a woman also. Still, it was hard to think anything except WHAT, when Ling Tong was staring at his fingers press into tender flesh and the head of a nipple popped right between his index and middle finger and THAT WAS IT, enough was enough.

He jerked away. “We have to fix y-“

“I lost my dick, too,” said Gan Ning, having a knack for these sorts of interruptions, as he looked down his pants.

Ling Tong slapped his palm to his face.




Fandom: Dynasty Warriors
Genre: MOAR CRACK.
Characters: Gan Ning, Ling Tong
Warnings: Requested by [livejournal.com profile] iyori. Prompt was GanLing and the Frog Prince. Doubles as prompt 'do you believe in magic?' for warriorslash50 challenge.

Ling Tong thought it was a dream, at first. Otherwise, it was very hard to logically explain to yourself why you had been woken up in the middle of the night by a gigantic toad sitting at the foot of your bed. Somehow, he had sat up, took one look at it and the tiny little bells ornamenting its waist, and said, “Gan Ning. What are you doing.”

The frog actually had the decency to look surprised. “Wha-how didya know it was me?!” Gan Ning croaked, previously convinced that he would have to relay some embarrassingly long and difficult-to-believe tale involving Zhang Jiao, much ridicule about beards, and archaic occult curses. If Ling Tong weren’t sure already, the crass manner of speech was evidence enough.

“What do you want?” asked Ling Tong, without quite getting around to asking why his comrade in arms was amphibian. It seemed like a rather superfluous detail, given that this was a dream and all. Stranger had happened in his sleep before, like the one time he had sat up in bed and found Gan Ning with a tail and cat’s ea- but that was another matter altogether and completely, utterly, and incredibly unrelated.

“I’ve been cursed. I needya to break it,” said Gan Ning, gesturing with a webbed hand.

Ling Tong narrowed one eye. He was sleep-muddled and not quite coherent, still of the belief that this was some highly fantastical concoction of his mind. He looked the part, hair bed-mussed and eyes barely staying open. After a moment, he said, “…your arm?”

“No! The curse, ya moron!”

Ling Tong kicked him off the bed.

“Give me a break!” Gan Ning yelled, as soon as he righted himself (this actually took a good big of effort, since he hadn’t quite gotten used to his non-human appendages quite yet.) “C’mon, cut me some slack. Just break this curse before someone else sees me like this. Hurry up!” He leapt back onto the bed, settling firmly in Ling Tong’s lap.

Ling Tong scrutinized him. “How am I supposed to do that?”

The question seemed to cause the pirate some embarrassment. Gan Ning shuffled its weight around and looked as sheepish as a frog could for a moment, before mumbling something under its breath. It wasn’t until Ling Tong raised a hand to swat him off his bed again that Gan Ning burst out, “You have to kiss me!”

Arm still suspended in midair, Ling Tong stared down at the frog in his lap, who had just asked him to kiss it. “Where?”

“Pucker up, Princess,” Gan Ning mumbled, this time coherently enough so that Ling Tong didn’t have to ask again. Before the second syllable of ‘Princess’ was out of his mouth, though, he was already being lifted into the air. Ling Tong kissed him squarely on the mouth, despite being a frog, despite the fact that it was in the middle of the night, because after all, it was only a dream, and generally it was a good idea not to leave one of the allied generals (and also sometimes your friend, sometimes something friendlier than that, even) as a wet slimy creature for the rest of his life.

Ling Tong dropped him, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and then pulled the covers back up with a curt, “Goodnight.” As far as he knew, the dream ended there.

Except.

“Good morning,” said Gan Ning, which was the first thing Ling Tong saw when he opened his eyes in the morning. Ling Tong simply looked confused.

“What?” he said.

Gan Ning grinned. “Pucker up, Princess.”




Fandom: Warriors Orochi (1)
Genre: Romance
Characters: Cao Pi, Mitsunari Ishida
Warnings: Done for Musou Meme. Prompt was Cao Pi/Mitsunari. Doubles as prompt 'this is why I'm the strategist' for warriorslash50 challenge.

Cao Pi, who hails from China, the prince of a warring kingdom, a proud and arrogant man, a warrior, is full of ambitions that flash like quicksilver behind his eyes. This is the first thing Mitsunari notices, as Da Ji introduces them with a coy smile playing on her lips, the kind that children have when they tip the mouth of a bottle over ant hills and watch societies drown.

So when Mitsunari finds out that Cao Pi is not the emperor of Wei, he says incredulously, “You’re not?” He looks surprised, and Cao Pi thinks that that’s what the other men of Wei would probably look like if they were reminded of the fact that Cao Cao could not possibly rule forever – incredulity, a sense of “That’s possible?”

Cao Pi smirks, giving Mitsunari a measuring glance. “Not yet,” he answers, overlooking the hordes of soldiers Orochi has under his command, and it is only in retrospect that Mitsunari realizes that even then, Cao Pi was probably counting how many he would let die in the next skirmish, how many less that meant he would have to face when he threw off his sheep’s mantle.

Mitsunari still fails to comprehend, after seeing so many of Wei’s men, how they can all know so little about their prince. Cao Pi makes his motives painfully clear to anyone who is paying attention, yet they all seem to misunderstand. They call him names, belittle his sense of honor, draw their blades against him, and Cao Pi accepts their challenges, defeats them, holds his blade a centimeter from their throat while he tells them to go.

Mitsunari wonders if the entire country is full of fools. Prince included.

He confronts Cao Pi. “I know what you’re doing, you know.”

Cao Pi smiles, a dangerous expression playing on a razor-sharp curve of lips. “I was beginning to think I’d have to be more obvious.”

“I’m not from Wei,” Mitsunari counters, approaching the balcony railing where the prince is sitting. “Tell me, are all the men of your kingdom born blind, or is it a national custom to drop them on their heads as children?”

“The men of Wei are born loyal ,” says Cao Pi, which means it’s the former.

“And that Sima Yi fellow?” Mitsunari points out.

“The men of Wei, I said, not the snakes,” the prince returns. “You would understand better if you had known my father.” Cao Pi lives in the shadow of that man, not out of choice, but because it would take ages to outrun a silhouette so vast. Regardless, he has probably been running for a long time, Mitsunari thinks.

“That isn’t it. Your former men are simply too busy running around searching for your father to remember that saving the ruler does not mean saving the country. They’ve known you for nearly your entire life, and I still understand you better.” Mitsunari turns back inside, but he can feel the stare on his back. He also feels it when Cao Pi snatches his wrist, pulling him back out.

“You only think that because you’ve been watching me,” Cao Pi says, yanking Mitsunari towards him. Mitsunari stumbles. Cao Pi wants him to go faster than he intended to go, and he has to catch himself on the railing and the pillar Cao Pi is leaning on.

“No,” he argues, recovering quickly. “I think I know it.”

Cao Pi is scrutinizing him. “You don’t know the first thing about me,” says the prince, just before covering Mitsunari’s mouth with his own. That, like many things Cao Pi says, is also a lie, and Mitsunari knows this too, dropping his fan into the other man’s lap so he can fist his hands into Cao Pi’s hair.
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