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November licenseartistic prompt

Title / Prompt: Livraria Lello/Bookstore
Character: Roger Smith
Warnings: None
Pairings: Roger/Satine
Fandom: Big O
Word count: 464
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Many Japanese and American companies own him.
Author's Note: This is the Roger I RP with. Very little canon here and if Satine is out of character, Satine!mun can kick me and make me write it right.


Roger hadn't been to Portugal before, but Satine had insisted that she'd be in every country in Europe before they'd return to New York. He didn't protest. After all, that was they had come. Be tourists, do all the touristy things - especially shopping. The limo they'd rented was already full of boxes. The driver had just goggled at the sheer amount of stuff they'd managed to fit into the middle seat. Roger didn't have the heart to tell the man that it had taken 3 limos in France to complete the shopping there. Fortunately, they'd already shipped all of that back home. Maybe it would be there by the time they returned.

She waved him off as she entered a boutique. The delicate orchid pink dress on display had drawn her eye and she just "had" to have a look. Roger pictured her in the dress and thought it might be just the outfit for the Ambassador's party on Wednesday. He looked a little up the street to a facade that proclaimed "Livraria Lello". He didn't understand Portugese at all, but "Livraria" looked a bit like "Lively", so perhaps he would find something of interest there.

Pushing open the door, Roger was stunned to find himself in a huge bookstore. He'd never seen so many books in his life outside of library. At first he thought he'd had stumbled into one, but the cashiers at the front indicated that this stunning display was for sale. Dark woods and glass reminded Roger of a church, as well as the stained glass ceiling. Despite the number of people, the atmosphere spoke of a reverence that reinforced Roger's impression. Slowly he moved past cases of books and statues of people he couldn't name. He mounted the stairs carefully, winding around until he reached a small landing. He wasn't too far from the next floor, but he had to look back down at the scene below. It was as if he stood on a pulpit, watching the faithful shuffle below him.

After a few minutes of people watching Roger quickly reached the second floor. Looking up at the stained glass above, Roger wondered if perhaps this had once been a cathedral or if someone had so loved books that he had built a monument to them and the sharing of knowledge with the like-minded. Tables with scattered volumes lined the area, making Roger regret that he couldn't read the language. He scooped one up, but found himself vaguely disturbed by words that seemed familiar, but not. The faithful moved around him, perusing titles, reading sections to see if they would make a purchase, but Roger felt distinctly disconnected. Illiterate in this land, it seemed rather spurious for him to remain a minute longer. However, in deference to the atmosphere, he strolled out leisurely back into the bright sunlight.

September licenseartistic prompt

Title / Prompt: Strange Things/Sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast. --Lewis Carroll
Character: Roger Smith
Warnings: None
Pairings: None
Fandom: Big O
Word count: 211
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Many Japanese and American companies own him.
Author's Note: Tag for "Missing Cat".


What the hell is going on here?! is all Roger can think as the impossible creature limps into the burning building, choosing to immolate itself rather than try to fit itself in the world. Sewn together from the hacked pieces of pets, including Dorothy's Pero, the creature is just too bizarre to be a part of this city.

In the morning, as Roger sips his coffee and stares at his eggs and toast, he can't help but wonder how the city he lives in can exist - the City of Amnesia, the city of long-lost technology, the city of giant robots - at least 2. He'd destroyed the prototype, but could there be more? What other science lay hidden either below the city or in the minds of those older than 40?

Usually Roger doesn't think about such things, but in the face of the nightmarish creature he dealt with last night, he can't help but fall into a contemplative mood. Dorothy is nowhere to be seen, so he can't distract himself with fussing at her. Even his android assistant is part of the puzzle. Perhaps it is best to leave her alone for a while until he can settle his own unease.

He finishes his breakfast and goes downstairs to work on the books.

Looks like my costume is ready



Mun, otoh, is laughing her ass off.

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August licenseartistic prompt

Title / Prompt: Landing/Giant's Causeway
Character: Roger Smith
Warnings: None
Pairings: Mike/Draco
Fandom: Big O
Word count: 778
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Many Japanese and American companies own him.
Author's note: This is the Roger Smith I RP with, so very little in this is canon. And if either Mike or Draco seem out of character, their muns can kick me at their leisure.


"Where are we?!" Roger yelled over the wind. The storm that hadn't been there moments ago had already swallowed them, leaving them in a roiling grey landscape punctuated by lightning. He felt like a bedraggled cat, the cloak heavy over his ruined suit, his hair plastered into his eyes. He managed to unlock the fingers of his left hand from the broomstick long enough to smear his bangs back out of his face before he resumed his deathgrip on the wood.

This was supposed to have been a nice day. Draco had volunteered to teach him how to fly on a broom, even if Roger could fly without it. It was one of the many fun things in the wizarding world had to offer and Roger was quite eager to try. Most magic, Draco had told him, was actually the effort of will over the environment. There were some things that he'd never be able to do as a Muggle, but things that were magicked could be manipulated.

Roger's first efforts had caused Mike great amusement, considering how many times he'd ended up on his butt while the broom ran away. Shaking his head fondly, Draco would easily call it back and they'd start again. After some trial and effort, Roger had managed to get the thing going while remaining on it. He found that wrapping one long leg around it helped a lot in keeping him seated.

He was sure this storm probably didn't look like much from the ground, but, up here, it felt like Armageddon. It felt like his last battle in Paradigm City. And here he had no Megadeus to keep him protected.

Mike arced up ahead of them, courting the lightning. Draco looked just as miserable as he did. It wasn't any use trying to cast any spells to dry himself, as he'd only be wet again in seconds.

"Shouldn't we try to land?!" he yelled over to the young man he considered to be a brother.

"We will," Draco hollered back, "after Mike's had his fun. I can't see enough to know whether or not we'll ditch ourselves into the Channel!"

In other words, neither of them had any idea where they were.

Roger looked around at the constant grey, weirdly homesick for a second before he saw a break in the clouds. Draco had seen it first and was already angling his broom in that direction. Roger followed him. Just before Draco dropped out of sight, he waved wildly for Roger to come.

The clouds thinned into a grey sky over lush green and stone. Draco aimed for the stone, slowing until he could settle gracefully down. Roger's landing was not quite so practiced and he ended up ass over teakettle with the broom and his cape tangled around him.

"Where are we?" he asked after he managed to right himself with Draco's help.

"Giant's Causeway," Draco said. "Welcome to Ireland."

The area was aptly named in Roger's opinion. Large stones dominated the area before the craggy peak beyond. They were obviously cut, shaped, not at all natural to his eye.

"Is it? A giant's causeway?"

Draco nodded. "Of course, the Muggles don't believe that, but we have a number of stories of how and why this causeway was built." He looked up at the sky as thunder rumbled, but it was obvious the storm was passing them by.

"Except Muggles who know better," Roger grinned. He slung off the cape and wrung it as dry as he could. His suit, he knew was ruined. His fault, though. Draco had warned him he shouldn't be dressed so nicely, especially for his first lesson.

"Scourgify," Draco commanded, cleaning them both up instantly.

"It'd be so nice to do that."

"One of the many perks of being a wizard." He gazed up again at the sky. Though Roger didn't pry, he could feel Draco reaching his husband telepathically. "Mike's going to be a while," he finally muttered. He sat on his broom, letting it float him along as Roger walked alongside on their way to the grass beyond. The stones were unevenly spaced, a couple of them sunk so low that Roger would leap across them rather than jump down and jump back up.

"We could go to the Bushmills Inn," Draco suggested. "Get something to eat. Mike'll find us there."

Roger agreed eagerly. After fighting with a broom in a storm, he was more than hungry. "Bushmills, isn't that a whiskey?"

Draco nodded. "The very same. And this is the oldest distillery."

Roger grinned. "What are we waiting for, then?"

With as big a smile, Draco apparated them to the hotel to wait for Mike.