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kinkfestDate: July 27, 2007
Pairing: Bugs/Fran
Title: Enchanted Interlude
Author: Dmcladyinred
Rating: PG for concepts and language
Word Count: 1,211
Summary: Bugs Bunny meets a girl of his dreams: Fran, the Viera from Final Fantasy XII.
Author’s Note: When I saw this prompt, I cracked up. I knew I had to do a story about it.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Looney Tunes or Final Fantasy XII, or any of the characters contained therein. No profit is being made from this piece of work.
Prompt: Flirting - misunderstanding.
Bugs Bunny enjoyed digging tunnels. Dark, cool tunnels led him places he would otherwise never go and satisfied the need for adventure his irrepressible nature fostered in him. They gave him a refuge from the vicissitudes of the world and the madness of his contemporaries. Much as he enjoyed baiting Elmer, Sam, Daffy, Taz-boy, and Witch Hazel, sometimes he just needed to get away and spend time by himself. Even a “wascally wabbit” had to take a break now and then. His bunny hole with its many branches suited that purpose to a tee.
Hazel, never in a good mood even at Hallowe’en, had found a cantrip that needed a wild hare. Her attempts to trap or catch him had amused the bunny at first, but he got tired of it, flung an insult over his shoulder, flashed his cotton tail, and dove head first down his hole.
“Curse you, you rabbit,” Hazel stuck her head in the hole and yelled. “I’ll get you yet! Take this!”
She flung something, but Bugs, ever dexterous, dodged, and it exploded in the tunnel behind him. Bugs did quality work. The tunnel shook, smoked and dropped a few trails of dirt, but it held. Bugs turned a corner designed for the express purpose of blocking incoming objects and headed for his sitting room. He donned his debonair smoking jacket, took out his silver case and plugged a prime Havana carrot into his buck teeth. Then he poured three fingers Old Daucus Carota No. 9 into a rocks glass filled with ice. He seated himself in his easy chair and read a relaxing chapter of WATERSHIP DOWN.
The memory of Hazel and her promise stuck with him, however. She could be a vindictive old biddy, and Bugs really didn’t want the hassle of ending up in her stewpot. It was time for a new branch off the old hole anyway. With a sigh he set aside his book, emptied his glass, washed it, put it away, and shed his jacket. Then he got to work.
A funny feeling assailed him as he dug. He wondered if he could be coming down with tularemia or something. His head felt fuzzier than usual, and he had the oddest impression he wasn’t in Kansas anymore. Of course, since he’d headed west toward Albuquerque that was only natural. He took his usual left, but a nagging sense of unease made him decided to head upwards for a look around.
The instant his head popped out of the hole he knew he had traveled into terra incognita. He climbed out, dusting himself off with his hands and gazing about.
“I tink I musta took a wrong turn at Albuquerque,” he said aloud.
He appeared to be in a space port of some kind. Damn that Hazel anyway. The last thing he wanted was to run into Martin the Martian or Duck Dodgers. He got ready to jump back into his hole. Then he saw her.
His eyes bugged out. His heart pushed out of his chest and began thumping wildly. He swayed backward, his ears going limp for a moment and hanging down around his shoulders. Then he sprang upright, wolf-whistled and howled his approval.
Mile long legs made her tall. Her curvaceous body would have given Mae West cause for envy. She turned to look at him, cocking her head to one side, a puzzled look on her piquant face. Wild white hair tumbled around that face, and a pair of the longest, whitest bunny ears Bugs had ever seen graced the top of her head. He longed to run his fingers over the delicious, soft-looking fur of those ears.
Her companion, a thirtyish man with short blond hair and a sharp, cynical face, also turned to gaze at Bugs. He gave a short bark of laughter.
“Well, Fran,” he said, “it seems you’ve attracted a suitor.”
The female gave her confederate a cool glance. “I attract many suitors, Balthier. You, yourself, said no one knows men like I do. It is one of the ways we Viera remain viable as a race.”
Balthier’s eyes danced. “Far be it from me to stand between the Viera and viability.”
Bugs took this conversation to mean that the fellow wouldn’t object to his making a little time with the dame. Bugs straightened and ran his hands over his ears, making sure they stood upright and looked their elegant best. He strolled forward and placed himself between the two.
He leaned toward the man and placed his hand beside his mouth. “Am-scray, would ya buddy. You’re crampin’ my style, if you know what I mean.”
Balthier smiled. “I shall withdraw, Fran. Don’t be too long. The Strahl awaits.”
It was Fran’s turn to laugh. Her laugh rang through Bugs like the peal of mission bells. “You will not leave without me. No one can make the engines on the Strahl sing like I can.”
Balthier spun on his heel and strode off, his hand waving in salute as he left. Bugs couldn’t believe the maroon was dumb enough to walk away from a gorgeous dame like this one. He pulled out a carrot, stuck it in his choppers and sidled closer to Fran.
“What’s up, Schweetheart?” he asked. Not for nothing did he study with Bogie and Pepe LePew.
“The price of loot had risen considerably since the death of Vayne,” she answered.
“What’s a nice bunny like you doin’ in a jernt like this?” Bugs knew she’d be impressed with his smooth savoir-faire.
“Selling pirated items, what else? And stealing back our airship, the Strahl.”
“I’ve done a bit of piratin’ myself in my day,” Bugs boasted.
“I see you are a person of experience,” Fran said. “Where do you come from, strange one, and what do they call you? You resemble a Viera, but there are no males among our kind.”
“I’m from Cali-forn-aye-a. They call me Jugs-er-Bugs Bunny. And you’re Fran, right.”
“That is what I am called.” Fran studied him for a long moment, then she appeared to reach some decision. “Come. There is an inn just around the corner. They will rent us a room.”
“Room?” Bugs felt his eyes grow round. This encounter was moving way too fast. “Let’s not be hasty here, schweetheart.”
A hefty, wicked-looking hammer had appeared like magic in Fran’s hand. “Are you saying you have no intention of mating with me?”
“M-m-mate?” Bugs stuttered. “Schweetheart, I’m not lookin’ for anything permanent. I already got a fie-ann-cee back in Anaheim.”
The hammer lifted.
“A-yee-uh” Bugs said.
All too familiar with the effects of large hammers on skinny cartoon rabbits, he rotated and ran so fast he had to reach back, grab his cotton tail and reattach it. He reached his hole, jackknifed in and pulled the hole in behind him. He stood in his hallway panting and clutching his heart.
“Dat was close. Next time I’m gonna take a right turn at Albuquerque.”
Aboard the Strahl, Bathier looked up as the hatch opened and Fran walked in.
“What, back already? Did you have no success, love?”
Fran sighed. “No he was just passing through. One more case of rabbit transit. He dropped this though.”
She handed Balthier a well gnawed on carrot.
Fin.
Pairing: Bugs/Fran
Title: Enchanted Interlude
Author: Dmcladyinred
Rating: PG for concepts and language
Word Count: 1,211
Summary: Bugs Bunny meets a girl of his dreams: Fran, the Viera from Final Fantasy XII.
Author’s Note: When I saw this prompt, I cracked up. I knew I had to do a story about it.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Looney Tunes or Final Fantasy XII, or any of the characters contained therein. No profit is being made from this piece of work.
Prompt: Flirting - misunderstanding.
Bugs Bunny enjoyed digging tunnels. Dark, cool tunnels led him places he would otherwise never go and satisfied the need for adventure his irrepressible nature fostered in him. They gave him a refuge from the vicissitudes of the world and the madness of his contemporaries. Much as he enjoyed baiting Elmer, Sam, Daffy, Taz-boy, and Witch Hazel, sometimes he just needed to get away and spend time by himself. Even a “wascally wabbit” had to take a break now and then. His bunny hole with its many branches suited that purpose to a tee.
Hazel, never in a good mood even at Hallowe’en, had found a cantrip that needed a wild hare. Her attempts to trap or catch him had amused the bunny at first, but he got tired of it, flung an insult over his shoulder, flashed his cotton tail, and dove head first down his hole.
“Curse you, you rabbit,” Hazel stuck her head in the hole and yelled. “I’ll get you yet! Take this!”
She flung something, but Bugs, ever dexterous, dodged, and it exploded in the tunnel behind him. Bugs did quality work. The tunnel shook, smoked and dropped a few trails of dirt, but it held. Bugs turned a corner designed for the express purpose of blocking incoming objects and headed for his sitting room. He donned his debonair smoking jacket, took out his silver case and plugged a prime Havana carrot into his buck teeth. Then he poured three fingers Old Daucus Carota No. 9 into a rocks glass filled with ice. He seated himself in his easy chair and read a relaxing chapter of WATERSHIP DOWN.
The memory of Hazel and her promise stuck with him, however. She could be a vindictive old biddy, and Bugs really didn’t want the hassle of ending up in her stewpot. It was time for a new branch off the old hole anyway. With a sigh he set aside his book, emptied his glass, washed it, put it away, and shed his jacket. Then he got to work.
A funny feeling assailed him as he dug. He wondered if he could be coming down with tularemia or something. His head felt fuzzier than usual, and he had the oddest impression he wasn’t in Kansas anymore. Of course, since he’d headed west toward Albuquerque that was only natural. He took his usual left, but a nagging sense of unease made him decided to head upwards for a look around.
The instant his head popped out of the hole he knew he had traveled into terra incognita. He climbed out, dusting himself off with his hands and gazing about.
“I tink I musta took a wrong turn at Albuquerque,” he said aloud.
He appeared to be in a space port of some kind. Damn that Hazel anyway. The last thing he wanted was to run into Martin the Martian or Duck Dodgers. He got ready to jump back into his hole. Then he saw her.
His eyes bugged out. His heart pushed out of his chest and began thumping wildly. He swayed backward, his ears going limp for a moment and hanging down around his shoulders. Then he sprang upright, wolf-whistled and howled his approval.
Mile long legs made her tall. Her curvaceous body would have given Mae West cause for envy. She turned to look at him, cocking her head to one side, a puzzled look on her piquant face. Wild white hair tumbled around that face, and a pair of the longest, whitest bunny ears Bugs had ever seen graced the top of her head. He longed to run his fingers over the delicious, soft-looking fur of those ears.
Her companion, a thirtyish man with short blond hair and a sharp, cynical face, also turned to gaze at Bugs. He gave a short bark of laughter.
“Well, Fran,” he said, “it seems you’ve attracted a suitor.”
The female gave her confederate a cool glance. “I attract many suitors, Balthier. You, yourself, said no one knows men like I do. It is one of the ways we Viera remain viable as a race.”
Balthier’s eyes danced. “Far be it from me to stand between the Viera and viability.”
Bugs took this conversation to mean that the fellow wouldn’t object to his making a little time with the dame. Bugs straightened and ran his hands over his ears, making sure they stood upright and looked their elegant best. He strolled forward and placed himself between the two.
He leaned toward the man and placed his hand beside his mouth. “Am-scray, would ya buddy. You’re crampin’ my style, if you know what I mean.”
Balthier smiled. “I shall withdraw, Fran. Don’t be too long. The Strahl awaits.”
It was Fran’s turn to laugh. Her laugh rang through Bugs like the peal of mission bells. “You will not leave without me. No one can make the engines on the Strahl sing like I can.”
Balthier spun on his heel and strode off, his hand waving in salute as he left. Bugs couldn’t believe the maroon was dumb enough to walk away from a gorgeous dame like this one. He pulled out a carrot, stuck it in his choppers and sidled closer to Fran.
“What’s up, Schweetheart?” he asked. Not for nothing did he study with Bogie and Pepe LePew.
“The price of loot had risen considerably since the death of Vayne,” she answered.
“What’s a nice bunny like you doin’ in a jernt like this?” Bugs knew she’d be impressed with his smooth savoir-faire.
“Selling pirated items, what else? And stealing back our airship, the Strahl.”
“I’ve done a bit of piratin’ myself in my day,” Bugs boasted.
“I see you are a person of experience,” Fran said. “Where do you come from, strange one, and what do they call you? You resemble a Viera, but there are no males among our kind.”
“I’m from Cali-forn-aye-a. They call me Jugs-er-Bugs Bunny. And you’re Fran, right.”
“That is what I am called.” Fran studied him for a long moment, then she appeared to reach some decision. “Come. There is an inn just around the corner. They will rent us a room.”
“Room?” Bugs felt his eyes grow round. This encounter was moving way too fast. “Let’s not be hasty here, schweetheart.”
A hefty, wicked-looking hammer had appeared like magic in Fran’s hand. “Are you saying you have no intention of mating with me?”
“M-m-mate?” Bugs stuttered. “Schweetheart, I’m not lookin’ for anything permanent. I already got a fie-ann-cee back in Anaheim.”
The hammer lifted.
“A-yee-uh” Bugs said.
All too familiar with the effects of large hammers on skinny cartoon rabbits, he rotated and ran so fast he had to reach back, grab his cotton tail and reattach it. He reached his hole, jackknifed in and pulled the hole in behind him. He stood in his hallway panting and clutching his heart.
“Dat was close. Next time I’m gonna take a right turn at Albuquerque.”
Aboard the Strahl, Bathier looked up as the hatch opened and Fran walked in.
“What, back already? Did you have no success, love?”
Fran sighed. “No he was just passing through. One more case of rabbit transit. He dropped this though.”
She handed Balthier a well gnawed on carrot.
Fin.
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