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mimisempai · 3 years

Text

I made a wish and you came true

Summary:

Sylvie asks to see what the prince of Loki looks like. When he shows her she laughs at him. Count on Professor Loki to give her a lecture about his Prince.

🌈 Happy Pride month ! 🌈

To celebrate, 1 day, 1 story.

Be ready for smiles, laugh, fluff, tooth rotthing fluff, positive vibes and a lot of love!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32183185

1731 words - Rating G

In storm-black mountains, I wander alone

Over the glacier I make my way

In the apple garden stands the maiden fair and sings,

"When will you come home?"

Loki had to stop, overwhelmed by emotion.

Sylvie, her eyes devoid of all mockery, said softly, "So there is a would-be-princess somewhere..."

Loki chuckled sadly before replying, "I like metaphors you know, in this instance, it's not a princess, it's a prince, and I don't know if he's waiting for me or hoping to see me again, it's not even really my home, but..."

"...but you'd like to believe it, right?"

Loki could only nod.

"Show me your prince."

"No way," Loki replied, shaking his head.

"Come on, please Loki!" she paused before continuing, "If you show it to me I'll tell you in detail how I enchant people!

Loki couldn't resist, so he turned his hand and there appeared a mini hologram of Mobius.

Sylvie approached and looked at him closely before sitting down again.

Loki made Mobius disappear.

"Don't tell me that that little man with no stature, no class is YOUR prince?!"

Loki wished he had his brother's hammer to blast her with lightning bolts.

"Yes this is my prince! And your impudence has earned you a lecture on the definition of Prince Charming by Professor Loki!"

Sylvie snorted and told the passing maid to bring her a glass of champagne, because finally she was going to need it.

"First of all, you should know that the charming prince doesn't exist only in fairy tales.

In real life, he is not perfect but he has many qualities that are essential to be wonderful. Is Mobius my Prince Charming?" He didn't wait for an answer.

"To find out, I'll show you point by point that he meets all the criteria that make him a prince for me."

Sylvie settled back in her chair to enjoy the show.

"First, the Prince Charming is generous. He is generous in every sense of the word. He doesn't hesitate to invite you to an excellent restaurant and to offer you a gift you've been dreaming of. Ok, ok, I agree, I didn't have time to fully test that point. But that's not all! He is also generous in giving you all the time you need. He is also able to have an attention that will brighten your day. And Mobius devoted an enormous amount of time to me, when nothing required him to."

Loki thought back to the time Mobius had spent with him just before they left for the mission. He had taken the time to show Loki that he wasn't the villain he thought he was. Nothing forced him to.It wasn't necessary for the mission. In a place where everything was about time, Mobius hadn't hesitated to give him time.

Sylvie simply nodded and waved her hand impatiently for Loki to continue his « lecture."

He took a sip, cleared his throat and continued.

"Second, the Prince Charming committed. He knows what he wants. He gets up every morning knowing exactly where he is going and what he wants to do. He is also resolute, he has goals in life and intends to achieve them. What is touching is that he is not bragging. Humility is his middle name. Quite my Mobius."

Sylvie noted, fondly, the possessive pronoun, but said nothing.

"Even though he pisses me off, because he is narrow-minded about the TVA, what he thinks is real. Nevertheless, he still manages to impress me because he believes that what he does is his reality and that he does it for a better world, he does it with all his heart. And when he talks about it there is so much candor that even I have a hard time getting him to see the reality of things."

Loki remembered their discussion in the cafeteria.

Loki had asked him completely sincerely, because he wanted to know what made Mobius go on, "I mean, you really believe in all this stuff, don't you?"

Mobius had replied simply, "I don't get hung up on, 'Believe, not believe.' I just accept what is."

Loki had tried to show him the absurdity of a world ruled by the 3 time keepers and Mobius had replied by telling him that his story, Asgard, mystical realm, beyond the stars, Frost Giants was the same thing.

He remembered Mobius' words perfectly, "Actually it's exactly the same thing. Because if you think too hard about where any of us came from, who we truly are, it sounds kinda ridiculous. Existence is chaos. Nothing makes any sense, so we try to make some sense of it. And I'm just lucky that the chaos I emerged into gave me all this... My own glorious purpose."

Loki had chuckled, to hide the fact that he was disturbed by the accuracy of Mobius' argument.

Mobius concluded by saying, determined, "Cause the TVA is my life. And it's real because I believe it's real."

Committed, yes, his prince was. Loki realized that he missed their discussion. Rarely had he met someone who could resist him intellectually.

"Hey! Loki! Are you there? "Sylvie was waving her hand, seeing that he was lost in his thoughts.

Loki regained his composure and moved on to his next point.

"Third, the Prince Charming for me must be smart but not pretentious, yes because there can only be one pretentious and that is me of course. Who wouldn't want a smart, educated man? Mobius is extremely smart! Can you believe that he knows hundreds of languages more than I do because he has been working in the multiverse for so long! And best of all, when I tried to manipulate him on my first consulting assignment, he figured me out. He almost knew right away that I was trying to play for my own side. Okay, it's a little humiliating. But that's the charm of him."

If Loki was honest, that was when he started to fall under Mobius' spell.

He had been so sure that he could get what he wanted from him. He was sure he had hooked the fish and then Mobius had blurted out, "He's lying. Just playing games. There's no one out there."

Loki blushed slightly as he thought about how he had been found out by Mobius at that moment. That's when his interest had been piqued, because Loki couldn't resist a challenge.

"You know Loki, it's almost cute how you have it bad."

"There's nothing funny about that." retorted Loki before resuming, "Fourth, my prince is someone I can lean on. He is a pillar on which you can rest. Imagine, Sylvie, we were working at the same desk and I fell asleep. And on top of that he let me sleep. You know he has this quiet strength. That thing that makes me know that with him I don't have to pretend anymore. But anyway, I was talking about Mobius, not me."

Sylvie moved closer to Loki and said with a smile, "From my point of view it's the same thing."

"What?"

"Nothing, go on."

Loki looked at her strangely before continuing.

"Fifth, my prince is listening. You know I talk a lot and three quarters of the time to say nothing important. But Mobius, even if I tell him something stupid, he listens to me as if it were the most important thing in the world. And most importantly, he really hears me. He can read between my lines and my metaphors, which he also loves. He's much better at getting people to talk than I am. He was able to see and make me say things about myself that no one had heard before. Sometimes I feel like he's the only one who knows who I really am."

Loki had to stop because the scene was still so present in his mind.

"I can't go back, can I? Back to my timeline. I don't enjoy hurting people. I... I don't enjoy it. I do it because I have to, because I've had to."

Mobius' tone, his look, his whole being turned toward Loki when he had said just that, "Okay, explain that to me.

Then Loki told him that he knew he was a villain.

Mobius' simple but straightforward answer was, "That's not how I see it."

"Hey Loki? You okay?" Sylvie had put her hand on his arm, looking concerned.

Loki pulled himself together.

"Yeah I'm fine."

He coughed and continued, "My Prince Mobius has an incredible number of qualities but I've summarized them for you because we don't have enough time. So I'm going to conclude this lesson by telling you that the quality that attracts me most to him is that he's surprising. He surprises me all the time. Which is paradoxical after all, I am supposed to be chaos and he is supposed to be order. But he surprises me. Where everyone else hates me, he is there and sees qualities in me that even I don't see. When everyone wants me gone, he doesn't hesitate to put his own head on the line so that I don't get erased. Mobius is not perfect, but he is perfect for me. Because precisely, he doesn't put me on a pedestal but he doesn't make me feel inferior either. He treats me as an equal."

"Okay, okay, okay, it's fine he's a Prince. But the mustache though..."

Loki looked mischievously at her and leaning in close to her ear, he said softly, "His moustache is very nice when he kisses me."

"Loki!" she moved back and flicked him on the forehead.

He took a sip of champagne and they remained silent for a few moments.

"And you told him all this, well not in so many words of course?"

Loki's smile disappeared.

"Because of you, I didn't have the time. And I hope that all of this won't have ruined this beginning of a relationship.Anyway, I'll tell him when we meet again, or at least I'll try to, as long as he wants to listen to me..."

Sylvie smiled softly, clinked her glass against Loki's and said softly, "You're insufferable to the core, but I sincerely wish you'd have the chance to talk to him. "

Loki nodded, this time he was determined to fight, because for the first time it was his own happiness that depended on it.

_______

The whole serie here : The story of Loki and Mobius

Not beta'd I hope you enjoyed it 🥰

#lokius #loki x mobius #loki #mobius m mobius #moki #wowki #sylvie laufeydottir #developing relationship

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gayregis · 3 years

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As much as i hate twn it's been very interesting seeing the surge of interest around the witcher and seeing how people outside of poland/EE interpret it and what they focus on? Like I dont mean this in any negative way at all but in a "its fascinating how people's cultural background shapes how they look at foreign art and it's weird to be part of the original culture that produced it and not the alien culture consuming it like it is with american movies or something" like it's just Fascinating

it is interesting, i don't have much to add as an american, but i think this should be an open discussion. i think cultural background definitely shapes how one sees characters interact, reads lines that were said, etc...

in my experience, what i've appreciated is reading the books once just to get my first impressions, then going through it over the past couple of years with additions and translation notes from a variety of sources (polish mutuals and other eastern european people on here that post about the witcher, r/wiedzmin commentary, random wordpress blogs, etc) to get a better understanding of what's going on in certain contexts and understanding some of the cultural differences. because i believe translator notes do not just begin and end with "this is what this word means," but rather are needed to understand whole characters and scenes, because of a variety of aspects. for translation in the sense of translating words, the syntax and diction changes a lot from the polish to english official UK translation. of course, some change is inevitable because of the way that polish and english grammar works. but in some cases it's so severe that it changes how the prose sounds and in many cases changes how the characters come off. @karanfile has spoken about this, where in english geralt is pretty wordy, whereas in polish geralt is brisk and curt, and it makes them entirely different characters.

here is also, of course, context surrounding cultural references, such as torque saying “goodnight” at the end of edge of the world, or the bounds of reason/limits of the possible with regards to villentretenmerth and sheepbagger. the witcher does draw on a variety of european mythology (and even extends as far as japanese mythology in season of storms), and many tales are utilized and inverted. but i think where an american audience will know sh’eenaz and duke agloval from hans christen andersen’s the little mermaid, we will be completely in the dark when it comes to princess adda, torque... i have seen many american and british reviews of the witcher praising it for its uniqueness and never-seen-before quality in including kinds of creatures from slavic mythology, and i can’t help but chuckle a bit because it’s not really a matter of uniqueness, just that the american and british audience are not familiar with the mythology! plus, since it loses that “familiarity” like these characters are living in a strange, inverted rendition of a story from your childhood, the message highlighted right on the page that “THIS IS A SERIES ABOUT INVERTING FANTASY TROPES” can be missed sometimes (though i also feel like it still remains obvious, with main characters who are blatant inversions of their tropes...)

another thing i have noticed (also spoke about this with karanfile and others in the discord) especially is how love and romance is interpreted by polish and american audiences. i was reading this wordpress article by sylwia of warsaw about the differences between how polish and american cultures concieve of friendship (i was thinking about how geralt calls dandelion his przyjaciel as his first introduction). (also here is another good article by her on the subject). a few things which came to my mind from reading this, and these thoughts are about broad cultures, not individuals!:

americans generally seem to not recognize that “a friend” can mean someone very close. the word “friend” basically stands in for any kind of friendly relationship, you may spoken to someone once or have known them closely for 20 years, and both are your “friend.” it is also suggested usually that one’s friend is at odds with their boyfriend or girlfriend, i.e., it’s usually suggested that people will prioritize their boyfriend or girlfriend over their friend, nevermind how close either relationship might be to their friend (again, there’s only one real word for “friend”). there is also attitude against this, in a counter-culture manner, in which you get the “bros before hoes” type of sayings. this attitude i think affects how many americans see geralt and dandelion’s relationship - i.e., it is read that dandelion is just geralt’s “friend,” so he is not important to geralt, and that being “friends” doesn’t insinuate any closeness, and is “lesser” to romance. this i think also affects how many geraskiers from twn have changed the dynamic between geralt and jaskier in their fanon, because much “happy” or “ideal” geraskier content is of them calling each other pet names, doting on one another, being overly and overtly romantic. geralt and dandelion have never acted like this in either netflix or the books, and in the books where they are actually friends, they do not treat each other like this and there is nothing to suggest that if they had a romantic relationship that their dynamic would change to fit this idea of what romance is like.

similarly, dandelion’s floweriness and “hyper-romance” (i have no idea how else to phrase it) in the books has been interpreted by some american fans as being genuine, cute, sweet, romantic, and admirable -- when it’s pretty clear that the intention is to make him look foolish and absurd. when he flirts with women such as detchka in eternal flame (the landlord’s daughter), he whines some bullshit (UK translation, made even more flowery and out-of-place by david french, “Forest dryad! Sylph! Fairy! O, Divine creature, with eyes like azure lakes. Thou art as exquisite as the morn, and the shape of thine parted lips are enticeingly…”) geralt and dudu (in the form of dainty) cringe at his performance. and this is who dandelion is, he plays with love and acts embarassingly dramatic and forward about it. but to an american audience, this behavior comes off as sweet, romantic, dreamy, desirable... not utterly stupid like it’s intended to?

i also think about geralt and yennefer. this is barring actual qualms about the writing of their relationship itself, but i have also seen american fans say that they do not act like a couple because they are not constantly doting on one another. and of course, misinterpreting yennefer’s sarcasm about the house dream in time of contempt as a genuine response (i do believe she also longed for a home, but was simply teasing geralt for being so optimistic as to think that they could ever achieve something like that, as it seems improbable (especially to her, as she is older than him and has seen more of life)).

bringing it back to what you have said, anon, i think “romance” is something the american audience definitely bangs their fists on the table to demand, and focuses very closely on couple relationships. not that this isn’t the case in ANY other countries’ cultures, but from my experience, a tie in for deep, blinding romance it seems to be essential to american storytelling. this is unfortunate to me because i believe romance is only one element which makes the witcher strong.

this attitude is also highly reflected in netflix’s witcher series, as they did not show how geralt and jaskier are close friends, did not show how geralt is ciri’s father, and did show geralt and yennefer together, BUT with the caveat that they ruined their entire relationship and made geralt insanely dominant, merciless in rebuking and taking advantage of yennefer. romance is prioritized and it’s only a certain type of romance that is...?

i invite more discussion on this post, if anyone else has thoughts, reblog at will

#ask #anon #the witcher #the witcher netflix #me: 'i dont have much to add' / me: [adds]

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aurorawest · 3 years

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⭐️⭐️Hi! Can you give a commentary for anything at all you'd like to talk about? 😊

Thanks! I’ll talk about far away from here and closer to somewhere else. I wrote this fic for Froststrange Week 2021. This fic is about Loki and Strange running into each other in Hong Kong. I did a lot of Google Streetview-ing of Hong Kong, and just a lot of random googling to get some sense of what the place looks like. I’ve never been, clearly. And now I want to go! It looks really cool. I decided to set it on Lamma Island, which is right offshore and has regular ferries. There are two towns on the island and a hiking trail that goes between them.

I went through a couple different iterations of what I wanted the plot of this to be. I knew Loki and Stephen would get drunk and play truth or dare, because those were the prompts, but one of my ideas was that they actually went to a restaurant and ate dinner together. Then I was just going to have them go to a bar. In the end, I settled on them basically having a picnic and drinking the booze Loki had earlier bought to share with Thor.

Throughout this fic, Loki is real thirsty for Strange. There is a lot of innuendo (if you thought to yourself, ‘did she mean to word it that way...?’ the answer is almost certainly YES). As he gets drunker (on baijiu, which I also researched, and have never had), he keeps having these really vivid fantasies. This is kind of the first time, chronologically in my verse, that Loki really confronts that he has feelings for Stephen. He starts out the fic sort of reveling in his sexual attraction, but by the end it’s freaking him out, because he’s kind of realizing that it’s more than that.

This is the section where they play truth or dare to the end. Loki chooses dare. Stephen thinks really hard about it.

He breathed out slowly. “Are you thinking of something?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Strange said. “I don’t—” He swayed. “—don’t want it to be boring. Like, I could ask you to sing. I’ve never heard you sing.”

“You don’t want to,” Loki said. “‘S’not good.

My head canon is that Loki has a truly terrible singing voice. He also hates singing.

Also!” Coup de grace—Strange couldn’t dare him to sing after this. “I am far too…too…too plastered to remember the words to any of the songs you like.”

Womp womp. Shouldn’t have admitted to that, Loki. I just wrote a bit in an upcoming fic where Loki actually thinks about the lyrics to a song Strange played a lot and about how they apply to his situation (that fic takes place shortly before this one).

“You know them?” Strange asked. There was surprise in his tone.

Stephen is a way better actor than Loki gives him credit for. Loki thinks that Strange doesn’t give away what he’s feeling. And while that’s true...it’s kind of more than that. This thrills Stephen. Absolutely thrills him. It’s a sign that Loki knows his favorite songs. It’s a sign that Loki is interested in music.

“Maybe,” Loki said, only realizing at the last second that he shouldn’t have admitted this. “Or maybe I’m lying,” he added. “That’s why I didn’t choose truth, you know. Because I’m a liar.”

I both love and hate writing drunk people. This line makes me laugh because Loki sounds like an idiot.

“Uh huh.” Strange’s hands were resting on top of his thighs, twitching now and then. “Okay. How about this. I dare you…to tell me the truth about something.”

At first, Loki laughed. But Strange just watched him, looking smug, and Loki’s smile faded. “That doesn’t really seem in the spirit of the game, Steph—St—Strange,” Loki slurred.

This was one of the first exchanges I thought of once I had the plot of the fic nailed down. Strange basically cheats, Loki lets him...and also nearly calls him Stephen.

With a sloppy looking shrug, Strange said, “That’s the dare.”

Loki stared at him in consternation. Then his eyes flicked down to Stephen’s mouth, set into a crooked smirk, and he couldn’t help thinking, The truth is that I want to kiss you right now, but even as drunk as he was, he wasn’t drunk enough to say that. Was it even true? Or was it just…alcohol? Probably just alcohol. He was sure, quite sure, that if he were sober, he wouldn’t want to kiss Stephen Strange. So what if his lips looked full and soft; so what if Loki had always had a weakness for the feel of a well-groomed beard against his face? Just alcohol. And heatstroke, probably.

Does Loki even believe himself here? That’s kind of the question throughout the entire slow burn. Does Loki actually, really believe the bullshit he keeps telling himself, that he’s not in love with Strange? The fun thing with Loki is that he’s perfectly capable of lying to himself. In fact, he often elevates his lies over the actual truth, because he would prefer the lie to be true. So even when he knows it’s a lie, he almost gets into this state where he thinks if he just repeats it enough, he can will it to be the truth. This is actually something that Loki thinks about Thor sometimes - that Thor can just mold reality to his will if he wants something enough. Loki sees himself as telling stories, and he desperately wants the stories he tells about himself to be true. The fairy tale that he isn’t in love with Stephen, though, that’s a losing battle.

His mind turned to the ‘dare.’ There were many things that Strange didn’t know the truth about, some innocuous, some much less so. Some, they had talked about haltingly, but never in great detail.

This was me hedging—when I wrote this last November/December, I knew that I was going to have Loki and Strange talk about their respective tortures at the hands of the Black Order in an upcoming fic (I’d already written some of that dialogue, in fact).

He could say, I know what Ebony Maw did to you because it was done to me too;

Somehow, despite shipping Loki and Strange for over a year and adoring both of them, it didn’t really occur to me that they have this in common until like, six months ago.

he could say I understand what it’s like to think you’re someone and find out the opposite. He could tell him about sneaking Jotuns into Asgard, about the fact that he had delighted in being wicked during the Battle of New York because it was exactly what everyone had always expected of him and he was giving them the performance of his life. He could tell him how he’d hated Thor so much, but loved him with an equal fierceness.

But Loki thought Strange might know that last one already.

Strange doesn’t know about sneaking Jotuns into Asgard, but he actually knows both of the other two things Loki lists here.

Taking a deep breath, Loki said, “I think you have a nice singing voice.”

Strange actually looked stunned. That was worth something. For a full thirty seconds, he stared at Loki, a comically befuddled expression on his face. Finally, he asked, “You do?”

Loki compliments Strange very rarely. This is one of the most uncomplicatedly nice things he’s ever said to him.

Loki rubbed at a smudge of dirt on his pants. “Yes.” Flicking his eyes to meet Strange’s, he said, “Nicer than mine. But actually just…nice.”

It would have been so much easier for him to stick with the comparative here. This is character growth, that he admits that Stephen has a good voice, full stop.

There was another long pause. Then, Strange said, “Thanks.”

With a shrug, Loki looked out over the sea. “You dared me to tell the truth about something.” Clearing his throat, he said, “Well then? What about you? Truth or dare?”

Strange rubbed at his beard and Loki wondered what internal debate he was having. What the pros and cons of each choice were. Because Loki knew Strange.

You can really see the absurdity of Loki’s repeated assertion that Strange and he aren’t friends right here. Loki is absolutely right - he does know Strange; he knows him so well that he can guess what he’s thinking, even though Strange tries pretty hard to hide what he’s thinking from Loki.

He knew that was the reason for the hesitation. Strange was trying to guess how far Loki might needle him.

Another few seconds of silence passed, and then, Strange said slowly, “Truth.”

Oh.

Oh. No jk. Believe it or not, the Oh. Oh. trope doesn’t appear in this series, because Loki never really has that moment of realization about his feelings.

Loki had assumed he would choose dare. Dare was easy. Loki would have dared him to do something stupid, like create a barbershop quartet composed of himself and invite the Avengers and their new young acolytes to a special performance.

I really struggled to come up with a stupid thing that Loki might dare Strange to do, for some reason.

But truth? Oh, he wanted to ask, is that something you want to talk about? The truth?

This was one of the prompts for the event.

Which he supposed would have been a question that Strange could have told the truth in response to, and Loki could call it done, but…even that felt like opening a box he didn’t want to open.

Questions flickered through his mind. Impossible questions. Does the way you look at me sometimes mean anything? Do you even like men?

Loki still thinks Strange is straight at this point.

Do you find me attractive? Do you want to kiss me? Do you know what a spectacularly bad idea that is? Do you understand why I can’t?

Loki doesn’t even quite know why he can’t. This moment is almost like...please tell me why I can’t, because I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t quite come up with a good enough reason.

He was so drunk. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck, he clearly couldn’t drink this much, ugh, no, not around Strange, not when it was so hot and it had been so long since he’d had—since he’d been with—since he’d had any kind of romantic partner except his own hand.

The last time Loki had fully consensual sex (where he reached climax) is at least decades in the past. Possibly longer. In The Real Asgardians of the Galaxy, Kalmsh goes down on him, but Loki stops him.

That thought made him giggle a little. He had made supremely poor choices today. He was just sensible enough not to make another one.

Strange was staring at him. There was an odd look on his face. Loki couldn’t identify it.

But if he had to, he’d call it…expectant. No.

Hopeful.

Loki knows and tells himself he doesn’t.

Loki’s fingers curled into fists and he asked, “How did you and Wong meet?”

@mareebird suggested this for the question.

The change on Strange’s face was subtle. Nearly imperceptible. Loki was surprised he was able to detect it, considering the state he was in. The hope, if that was even what it had been, dropped away, replaced by…resignation. “I wanted to borrow a book from the library,” Strange said. He smiled, though it seemed joyless. “In Kamar-Taj. He took it too seriously.”

I wanted this moment to be absolutely devastating. To be honest, I don’t think I really pulled it off. C’est la vie. I plan on rewriting this and adding it to my series, so maybe I can fix it then.

“As always,” Loki said. His voice felt like it was coming out far too heartily. As though some line had been crossed and they both needed to retreat, but Loki was acutely aware, horrifically aware, that he had done something wrong, or if not wrong, then something that had wounded Strange in some way, and that was…idiotic. It was stupid. Nonsensical. There was nothing Loki could do to emotionally wound Strange. The man had proved that time and time again. He didn’t take Loki seriously. If you didn’t take someone seriously, they couldn’t hurt your feelings.

It really, really bothers Loki that Strange doesn’t take him seriously. He’s wrong about that, of course, but it’s something that’s driven him absolutely insane from the moment they met. At first it’s more of a like, dick measuring contest, lol. But it becomes much more than that, and the anger turns to this kind of...desperate hurt. Loki wants Strange to take him seriously. His unhappiness over the perceived slight appears many times.

Which was why Strange had never hurt Loki’s feelings, incidentally, because Loki didn’t take him at all seriously,

Uh huh yeah sure.

this human sorcerer with his lovely eyes, blue or green depending on the light, and his soft-looking lips and neat goatee.

Riiiiiiight.

The two of them lapsed into silence. The drunken buzz had gone out of Loki’s veins entirely. Alcohol—it was fun until it wasn’t. Now he just felt foggy and slow. The world was spinning unpleasantly. How the hel was he going to fly back to New Asgard like this? He couldn’t. Sourness sloshed in his stomach. He’d probably be lucky not to be sick.

Now, this, I felt I described pretty well. It’s such a distinct feeling when you’re drunk and having fun and suddenly you cross some line that you didn’t know was there...and you’re not having fun anymore. And there’s no way to get back.

Loki’s legs felt stiff and he extended them. That other buzz had gone from Loki’s veins, too. It had been stupid. Stupid fantasies. [...]

His mouth was starting to feel dry. The sourness in his stomach was gaining more bite. The humidity in the air wasn’t helping, either. Loki felt like he couldn’t get a breath. He wasn’t quite nauseated, but the possibility didn’t seem far off. If he could breathe some cool, crisp air, he was sure he’d feel better. Everything would probably be better if he could just do that.

Me, writing this: Think back to all the times you’ve felt like shit walking around Disney World!

Strange shifted. Their shoulders had been touching, Loki realized. And now they weren’t.

“I s’posp…s’posp…” Loki grit his teeth. “I…suppose you need to get back to Yew Nork. New York.”

Realistically there would be a lot more slurring in both of their speech, but who wants to read that, honestly. I use that sort of thing sparingly.

There was a silence, so Loki turned his head to look at Strange. He was staring out over the sea, his gaze faraway, like he wasn’t here at all. Not thinking about Loki at all, let alone what had just happened.

IDIOT. Obviously, Loki is exactly wrong here. Stephen is absolutely thinking about Loki and absolutely thinking about what just happened. His heart is breaking.

Whatever had just happened. Stupid thought. Nothing had happened.

Since nothing had happened, the barren hollowness inside him was just an illusion. And Loki knew about illusions. He was good at them. So that made sense.

I wrote Loki’s internal monologue in a simpler, almost more childlike way here to try to capture his inebriation. And also his sadness. He’s sort of like a kicked puppy here.

“Guess so,” Strange finally said. Without looking at Loki, he laboriously climbed to his feet, swaying alarmingly. Norns. What if he stumbled right off the cliff into the sea below? Flashes of that played out in front of Loki’s eyes, intrusive and horrible, and something that felt awfully like panic clutched at his chest. The idea of Stephen dying suddenly seemed so terrible, so very terrible.

Foreshadowing. Stephen will die in about fifty-five years. Loki will be devastated and never get over it.

Loki got to his feet too, ready to grab Strange if he wobbled too close to the edge of the cliff. But Strange seemed steady enough on his feet, now that he was standing. Silently, Strange unhooked his sling ring from his belt, shakily slipping it onto his fingers, as Loki vanished the empty food containers into his pocket dimension. They were a problem for a future version of him.

Just like Future Emily often has to cover for freaking Present Emily. She’s the worst.

The empty bottle, though—he bent over to pick that up, sliding his fingers over it. He was seized by a sudden, violent urge to fling it into the sea. Except you couldn’t fling a bottle into the sea on Earth without putting a message into it. That was a cliché here. A message in a bottle. A message you couldn’t send any other way because you were stranded. A message that had no hope of actually reaching its intended recipient. What kind of message would he send?

I hate you. I hate this.

Even if it was the opposite.

They’re caught in this limbo where neither one of them has the guts to tell the other how he feels. They quite literally have to resort to games, but even then, they both chicken out. Loki can’t even imagine being able to be honest with Strange about this. He can’t even be honest with himself.

Loki closed his eyes, then vanished the bottle into his pocket dimension, as well. Where had he actually landed his ship? Would he be able to find the way back? Everything seemed murky in his mind. And—this thought hadn’t occurred to him until now—was the ferry even running anymore?

This is your author realizing at the same time that Loki took a freaking ferry to get here.

Perhaps he’d have to spend the night here, leaning against the rocks until he nodded off into fitful, drunken sleep.

As though Strange was reading his mind, he said, “Let me bring you back to your ship before I go back to the Sanctum.”

“Oh.” Right. Stupid. Strange could bring him anywhere, instantly. “I…” It felt as though his head was full of wool. “Yes, that would be…thank you. Don’t think—don’t think the ferries are running anymore.”

Strange finally looked at him. “You think I’d let you walk back to your ship like this? Even if they were?”

His ship is the same one from The Real Asgardians of the Galaxy, The Bifrost, but I don’t name it in oneshots because I don’t like to assume that people have read that fic.

“Like what?” Loki asked. Drunk off his arse, clearly. Why was he even asking? Just to hear Strange say it? Even an Asgardian could be taken advantage of in a compromised state.

Loki has been sexually assaulted many, many times. He’s not really too concerned about it here on Earth, but it’s certainly something that would occur to him. His most recent experience is with the Grandmaster.

But Strange didn’t answer this question. Instead, he asked, “Where is it?”

There had been ships. Big boxes. Loki knew the kind of place. He knew the word. “Um, docks,” he said. “Container ships.” He closed his eyes. “It was Container Terminal 8.” Complete sentences—look at that.

Yes, this involved more Google Streetviewing.

“Okay,” Strange said. He extended his arm and circled the other. The portal started to bloom in front of them, swelling a little before it shrank back down. Orange sparks sputtered weakly. Loki stared blearily. There was a joke here, but the idea of making it seemed devastating in a way that he couldn’t articulate.

I checked with @mareebird before I made this erectile dysfunction joke because quite honestly she’s the queen of sexual innuendo, and I needed to see if it passed muster.

But Strange tried again, and this time it worked. [...] Uninvited, Strange followed him on board, where he stood as Loki drifted to the bridge. Loki mostly just wanted to lie down. He didn’t know why Strange hadn’t left yet.

Clearing his throat, Strange asked, “You’re not going to fly home right now, are you?”

Part of him wanted to say yes, just to see the look of horror on Strange’s face. Would Strange go into Good Guy mode and tell him he couldn’t? There were signs on some of the roads in Norway admonishing people not to drive their cars while intoxicated. Imagine what they’d think about flying a spaceship when he could barely walk in a straight line!

A stylistic note - I almost never use exclamation points in prose like this.

The thought amused him and he started to giggle.

The feeling faded quickly and he swayed on his feet, then took several unsteady steps to his berth. As he flopped down on it, he said, “I’ll stay here. I’ll sleep it off. That’s what you want me to say, right? You want me to be good. Good Loki, he’s so well-behaved, doesn’t put a toe out of line. Can’t really, can I? I’m a guest here on Earth. We’re all guests.”

This is also me vagueing, because I knew future plot points but didn’t have them totally nailed down. Now that I’ve almost finished with the fic that will directly precede this in the timeline, this was actually pretty spot on. It completely calls back to that, which I didn’t really do on purpose. Gonna pat myself on the back for that.

He stared up at the underside of the other berth. A hard, swollen feeling rose into his chest, a feeling of wanting. Just…wanting. He didn’t know what he wanted. All he knew was that as good as things were now, as much as Thor and he had repaired things, there was something gaping inside him. It would be easy to say it was New Asgard, stupid tiny ugly reeking fishing village New Asgard, but it would be a lie.

Then again, he liked lies. Well, he didn’t like them. They were just easier. Lies were so much easier. The truth was hard.

Lies are easier, which was why he just repeatedly lied to himself in the paragraph above. Doesn’t know what he wants? Right.

He turned away from the raw ache and rested a wrist on his forehead. “Well?”

There was a metallic scrape as Stephen’s feet shifted on the deck. “I don’t want you to crash into the ocean and never be seen again.”

Loki snorted. Suddenly, he felt as though he was going to cry. “I’m sure you’ll see me again, Stephen.”

Every time Loki thinks of Strange as Stephen or calls him Stephen, it’s very intentional.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Strange take a step closer. He looked unsteady, too, swaying, his gaze unfocused, his hands shaking. Mentally, he dared Strange to come closer. Truth or dare.

Why the hel had Strange chosen truth?

The truth was too much. The truth was difficult. The truth was impossible. It was vulnerability and pain and handing your heart and soul over to another person. The truth was something Loki had no interest in. Certainly not whatever truth Strange would tell.

Deep down, Loki knows how Strange feels about him.

Slowly, Strange nodded. He was starting to look a little wan, as though he wasn’t feeling well. Wouldn’t be much of a shock. Loki didn’t feel well and presumably he could hold his liquor better, even with the heat. “Hope so,” Strange mumbled.

Head canon: Stephen actually doesn’t hold his liquor well at all. He never has. Because he sometimes takes painkillers from his hands, he’s even worse at it (I have to thank @nonexistenz for that one). Presumably he hasn’t taken a painkiller in several days in this fic, since he’s still conscious after drinking half a bottle baijiu.

The two of them looked at each other. Loki’s vision kept fuzzing around the edges, but he concentrated on Strange, Strange in his t-shirt and his jeans, looking so human.

In earlier fics, Loki admires how Strange looks in his Master of the Mystic Arts get-up. That shifts over the course of the future fics and Loki begins to find Stephen’s everyday clothes much more endearing and attractive.

Terribly human. Stay, whispered a traitorous voice in his mind. It was a voice that would have him move over on the berth and hold out an arm. An invitation. An acknowledgement.

This is the closest Loki has ever come to an admission of his feelings.

Impossible. Loki closed his eyes and rolled over onto his side, facing the bulkhead. “Good-bye,” he said, knowing he sounded pitiful. He had officially reached the stage where he wondered why he’d ever touched any alcohol ever in his entire life.

It’s a cliché but it will never not be funny.

“Thanks for dinner,” Strange said.

“Welcome.”

“Thanks for…” But Strange trailed off.

Strange probably doesn’t even quite know what he’s going to say here. He’s just stalling, hoping Loki is going to make the move that he (Stephen) is too afraid to.

“Strange.” Loki’s head was starting to hurt. “Good-bye.”

There was silence, then the sound of a portal, which spit, hissed, and closed.

The truth. The truth could go to hel.

Loki hoped he didn’t remember any of this in the morning.

He does remember a lot of it, but he’ll pretend he doesn’t, or chalk it up to drunkenness.

Thank you for asking!! Hopefully you liked what I chose 😊

Fanfic Writers: Director’s Cut

#Anonymous #froststrange #strangefrost #loki #stephen strange

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revengeisalwaysanoption · 4 years

Text

FIC: VIENI A VEDERE PERCHE’

This was supposed to be the last chapter of “Io non ci credo, alle giraffe”, my fairy tale AU, but it ended up the one before the last (which I’m currently writing and will publish together with this one later tonight, for ‘secret’ ) somehow.

Niccolò won, of course.

It hadn't been a fair race, since climbing trees was something that he probably could have done in his sleep. Martino hadn't done in years, instead, to be honest... He had stopped after his father had reprimanded him several times for being too reckless, for not thinking about breaking his mum's heart behind if he fell off and died.

Just the memory of such tedious and hypocritical lectures - who ended up breaking mum's heart, in the end, uh? - had spurred him to go faster and faster, caring less and less if the next branch he jumped on would withstand his weight or not. If his next step would be his last.

He had reached the top of the tree just one minute after Nico. No more than sixty, insignificant, seconds.

Not too bad, right?

As expected, however, Nico didn't exactly shower him with praise when he had sat beside him.

"Ooooh, look who has decided to finally show up... I was falling asleep here, waiting for you." He nudged his shoulder, playfully, with his forehead. For a moment, he pretended to have fallen asleep on it, snoring way too loud for Martino to actually buy his silly pantomime. If anything, it made him laugh.

"Do you really fall asleep that quickly? Must be nice, to have such an untroubled mind..." He said, tauntingly. Realising straight away what he had just done, he backtracked with a wince. "... you might not know it, but my name echoes in the forests of all realms."

"Never heard of any Elios before you." Nico didn't seem to mind his slip up, and was still smiling softly. Flicking Marti's nose once, twice, three times... until Martino himself had to stop him and murmur 'if you don't stop it immediately I'm going to cut off that fucking finger... the whole hand, really, while I am at it’ and Niccolò had gone all <i>'You wouldn't. If you knew what this hand could do for you...' while teasingly squeezing on his thigh.

He gently removed it, mindlessly skimming over his knuckles and intertwining their little fingers as he placed that obnoxious hand back on Niccolò's own lap. Unable to bear the heat and the fondness of his gaze - amazed at how he was able to give both vibes at the same time, with the same intensity - he looked up at the sky.

Wow... It had been ages since he had last seen the White Trail so clearly, and the fluctuating flames - which is mom liked to call 'dancing curtains' - which spiralled in bursts of green, red and blue.

He had been about to tell Nico his actual name, and then he had completely forgotten about it. It only occurred to him after he had heard 'Elio... Elio... ELIO!‘ whispered over and over again.

Right.

Niccolò still didn't know his real name, and here there was the perfect opportunity to give it to him.

"Actually, Ni..." He murmured, but Nico didn't hear him since he was speaking as well.

"Are you still awake?" He asked, softly. So tenderly, really, that Martino couldn't find the question as absurd and idiotic as he usually would.

"No, this is my brain's answering machine. You can leave a message, if you'd like." He joked, making Niccolò smile so big and bright that he could see those white teeth shine in the twilight.

"Okay. So... I'm sorry if I interrupted you. What were you about to share with me? One of your darkest secrets, perhaps? Your name, at last?" He gave Martino the perfect chance to come clean, handed it on a silver platter... So, of course, he couldn't take it. It would have been too easy, wouldn't it?

"I'm sorry. The person you are looking for is unavailable at the moment. Please try again later. Thank you. You may go first, in the meantime." He insisted, encouraging Niccolò to continue.

"Okay, so... I haven't forgotten, I promise. I still owe you an explanation..." Again, in the span of a instant, Nico had turned serious. Forlorn, like it pained him to think about it. Well, of course. His grandma had probably passed away not too long ago - and that might have been the event that triggered his escape to the Forsaken Forest - and Marti's curiosity was forcing him to relieve that.

Thanks, but no thanks.

"You don't have to give itl me, if you'd rather not... It's not like you promised, and it's not really

a vital piece of information... " He reached out, to stoke his cheek with the utmost care. He hoped that small gesture proved to be comforting, at least a bit, for Niccolò.

"You're unbelievable..." Nico said, but it didn't sound like it was a bad thing. "... it's just... that it's actually quite a basic, boring, story? She was one of the Greatest Wizards of the Lands, and this particular tree was her favourite crossing spot. It's still so imbued with her magic that it feels like she's still here, you know?"

It made sense, he supposed, for anyone with the slightest receptivity to magic. Which wasn't him, of course.

"It's Martino, by the way." He couldn't say he knew, so he did the next best thing.

"Oh?" Niccolò's face brightened up once more, not quite believing Marti had finally given in.

"I'm Martino Rametta." He suddenly got up, taking Niccolò's hand in his and shaking it. "Fancy meeting you here, sir. And you are?"

"All right, Mr. Rametta. If you must know, I'm a baron. Baron Niccolò Massimiliano Francesco Ludovico Of The House of Fares. Others have dubbed me as 'the Baron in the trees', but you can call me... LudoNico." He stuck his nose up in the in air, tucking a rebellious curl behind his ear.

"Thanks, I hate it. I'd prefer to stick to Niccolò." Marti scowled, but he soon mellowed out as Nico leaned in with a devilish grin on his face. What... What was he about to do?

Why his face was so close to Marti's, all of a sudden?

"As long as it's not Nicco, we're good." Nico conceded, moving away.

Martino had really thought... He hadn't been reading too much into that, or hallucinating, Niccolò had been so close to... but then he changed his mind. Why?

He felt it would have been stupid to inquire about that, when he had done the same just a couple of hours before.

"So, what now?" He asked, instead.

"Now... Now we really can go wherever the heck we want. Unless you have other obligations to attend to? There must be some other singing contest for you to enjoy, before the May Mayhem." Nico mused, as he stretched.

"Huh? May what?"

"May Mayhem? Like, the biggest competition around, where people show up on stage with the most ridiculous outfits and either sing ballads or perform weird rituals? You have no idea what I am talking about... That's okay. I secured a couple of tickets months ago..."

Martino chose to focus on the fact that Niccolò could see them still hanging out in May, that he was willing to share those precious tickets with him, and disregard the fact that he would have had to endure another melodic festival.

"I do have place in mind... I'd show it to you on the map, but it's in my satchel." "Awesome." Ni clapped his hand gleefully, and then started his descent. "Let's get it, then."

Martino wished he could share his enthusiasm at the idea of having to dive into that muddy water not just once but twice. He groaned at the mere miserable picture his brain was already painting, getting a boisterous laugh out of his companion.

And yet he knew he wasn't going Nico go back alone, as inconvenient as that swim back to their horses would be.

"This should do. We're close enough now." Niccolò, however, stopped on the lowest bough and started tapping his fingers against the trunk with one hand, while the other was open and outstretched towards the pond's edge.

He kept murmuring words in a language Martino was familiar with - yet he couldn't name a single person he had ever heard it from... perhaps it had been in his dreams? hard to say, when he was hardly able to remember what sleeping felt like - but sounded absolutely unintelligible to his ears.

And then his satchel came into view, quickly soaring through the air. Was Nico performing a summoning charm without the help of a wand? For real? Right in front of his eyes?

The nerve. The audaciousness. The guts it showed, to go for a gesture that screamed 'I am powerful AND untamed. I don't answer to anyone's rules but my own.' to someone he had met only the night before.

Amazing. Incredible. Astonishing.

'One more talent to add to the list... Aside from being agile, athletic... Handsome... And I am supposed to be the unbelievable one? Excuse me?'

What about the horses, though? Surely he wouldn't be able to summon them as well, no matter how impressive his magic was. Not on a few hours of sleep - about that: he really needed to stop being selfish and remind Nico once again that he should rest - and with barely any food in him.

"We don't need them." Niccolò said, guessing what he Martino had been about to ask. "Rocco knows the way back to the Incantava castle, and can lead them back to the royal stables. Ele has been taking great care of him when I couldn't - ever since we were kids - and I'm sure she won't mind Chicco."

"Incantava?" Trust Martino's mind to fixate on the most insignificant detail.

"Incanti plus Sava? I've been secretly - well, not so secretly now but I know I can trust you with this - have been calling them like that for ages..." Butterflies did a number on Marti's stomach, at that. He already knew, but it was nice to have an actual confirmation of the trust Niccolò had in him.

"And we are?" Why was he even asking, it wasn't like in the dreadfully short time they have been together Nico should have come up with a nickname for them as well. They weren’t even friends, were they? Barely acquaintances, at best.

"Nicotino? Martinico? Rames?" Nico teased him with a smile, and a fully body wiggle, before he leaned against the truck of the tree to watch him rummage through his bag.

"So, an addictive venom. A possessed scarecrow and something that sounds like food. Great." Martino rolled his eyes, as he finally found what he was looking for. “Well, actually… The place I’ve got in mind is not on the map. I don’t even know where it is. But since these are yours, maybe you do?” Niccolò eyes widened, and his hands were shaking a bit as he took the pictures from Marti. “Is everything okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” He asked, a bit worried by Nico’s silence while he kept staring at the parchments. “Yeah, yeah.” Nico snapped out of it, at the sound of his voice.”I just didn’t think anyone would have enough taste and foresight, because you can bet these are going to sell for your weight in gold, to keep them…” “Well, you know Sana. She’s got a head for profits, or she wouldn’t be running the most successful tavern of our realm.” Marti played along, hoping he hadn’t reopened an old wound by mistake. Again. “Sana? Oh. Right. Of course, it makes sense.” He sounded slightly disappointed at that, like he had been expecting to hear someone else’s name. Maddalena’s, perhaps. Understandable. Just because Martino preferred to think that it must had been an arranged engagement, it didn’t make it true. Maybe he still loved her dearly, and had left because there was something seriously wrong with him? Something connected to his inability to walk on the ground for too long? “So, do you know where to find those giraffesses - or whatever they’re called - or not? Do they even exist, by way? Or did you come up with them in a dream?” He quickly changed the topic, bringing it back to the matter at hand. His curse. “Oh, my dear Marti.” How could he manage to sound both mocking and fond? It wasn’t fair! “I wish I could take the credit. My minds comes up with a great deal of things, but giraffes aren’t one of them. I’ll gladly show you, since you asked.” “You better not be pulling my leg.” Martino mumbled, wishing Niccolò would just get on with it. He could barely stand having him look into his eyes, without giving in to the temptation of leaning in and… No, no, no. Not a chance. Not now. Not ever. “So you don’t believe me, huh? What a dunce.” He punched Marti’s shoulder, and then proceeded to open a portal to their destination. “You are hardly the first.” They spoke very little, after that. Niccolò had him go in first, with a curt “Be my guest.” Martino chose not to question the sudden change in Nico’s attitude, knowing it would pass. He felt personally offended someone else had dared to call him a liar, however. Who were they? Marti wanted names, so he could go and… Do what? Punch them in the face?

Yeah! Why not! Rather than paying further attention to his murderous thoughts, which would have led him nowhere good, Martino focused on how Niccolò’s movements were getting stiffer and stiffer by the minute. Without saying anything, he matched the slowing pace but he didn’t know how much longer he could pretend not to see him staggering.

The sun had yet to rise, so it wasn’t easy to tell but he could swear that he was turning paler as well.

It didn’t feel right to demand an explanation, but maybe he could persuade him to take a break.

'We really can't afford to waste time' complained his common sense. 'We could drop dead any minute!'

'Exactly' answered his stubborn heart. 'It's surprising that you still believe we can make it. Given that we'd need a miracle for that to happen, I think we should agree on that Niccolò and his wellbeing are our priority, at the moment. Unless you can give me one good reason not…'

It couldn't find one. The most sensible thing was indeed to grab Nico's arm and pull. Pull and pull again, until Niccolò would finally give up, and let himself be gently lowered down onto the grass. He would have been welcome to use Marti's lap as a pillow, if he fancied it. Martino would not - never! not in a million years - take advantage of the situation to thread his fingers through those curls…

When he reached out to do that, however, Martino noticed something quite unusual. Nico's arm was a lot heavier, smoother and colder than it should have been. Almost as if…

No, no ifs.

It was marble, not flesh.

"Ni?" The worry was palpable in his voice, so raw and honest that Niccolò couldn't ignore it. Not unless his heart had been turned into stone, already.

"Oh? It's just my arm. It's going to take a while before I fully turn, and by then I'm sure we will have reached Berta's most beloved spot in the savannah. Yeah, yeah, to your untrained and unappreciative eyes it will all look the same... A dry grassland, with small and dispersed trees. But she knows her stuff, Marti. She knows where to find the best shade and the most delicious leaves.

Berta's my favourite, you know? The one I usually draw. She's such a sweetheart. I am positive she is going to let me climb onto her back, someday."

"Turn into what?" He couldn't care less about giraffes, he wasn't going to be swayed into ignoring Nico's predicament. Not anymore. Though his ramblings about Berta had been a valiant - and quite cute - attempt. "And why? Have you been cursed too?"

Suddenly, witnessing Niccolò go through a wide array of contrasting emotions - a proper 'face-journey' as Gio would say - in less than a minute, Marti understood that there had been a major misunderstanding between them.

It wasn't as if Nico had meant to keep his condition a secret: he thought Martino had already heard about it from Maddalena.

So, that meant… Oh, crap.

Yeah, it meant that when he had asked if it would kill him to leave those trees in the forest or dismount his horse, the previous morning... Niccolò though he had been joking.

'Good job, Martino. You're lucky he doesn't seem to mind if you are a mean, stupid, peasant.'

"She really didn't tell you?" He sighed, when he saw Martino confirm with a headshake. "I definitely owe her an apology. Anyway... Long story short: there's no oath about never touching the ground involved. No curse apart from my own foolishness."

"I can't say I'm surprised, here." He teased, with a smile. "Takes one to know one."

'Don't be ashamed of whatever you did, Nico. Don't call yourself an idiot, 'cause if you are… Then I am too. You are not alone, you understand?'

"Agreed." Nico said, smiling a little. He was better than anyone he had ever met - except Gio, perhaps, but that came from years of experience - at reading between the lines of 'Martinese'.

"I was merely trying to get better hold on my emotions." He went on, now fearing no judgement from Martino. "Which, as you have seen for yourself, can be rather intense and rather unpredictable. Turns out you can't do that, unless you literally have a heart of stone. For some reason, however, the spell only starts spreading when I am walking on the ground. Maybe it knows it's where I'd rather be, instead of being bound to earthly obligations. Magic works in mysterious ways."

"Believe me, I know… " Marti was perfectly aware that there would be no better occasion to share its own truth, so he went ahead and confessed. There wasn’t that much to say, honestly.

Niccolò listened carefully, not even attempting to mock him when he mentioned the detail about the giraffes and their tears. If anything, he seemed relieved that Martino wouldn’t have trusted a single individual claiming they were real.

"So, let me get this straight. You still need the tears and a song, right? He waited for Martino to nod, before he continued. "That's awesome! I mean, not that you're cursed and all… But, like, that you needed those items and you met me! What were the chances? And let me tell you, I'm gonna take it personally if mine doesn't qualify as a wounded soul. Or if my song doesn't make any of them tear up..."

"Yeah, but…" It was certainly worth to give it a try, yet they couldn't just forget about the clause mentioning that no help from his friends was allowed.

"… but what, Marti? Is it about the 'friend' thing? Obviously the ones you made along the way don't count, or your wooden box would have told you. Remember that it has been bewitched by you best friend, so it desperately wants you to succeed." Nico pointed out, and that did make sense.

Gio wouldn't give him unsolicited advice, so neither did the box. However, it'd still do what it could to prevent him from failing.

All he had to do was ask.

So he did.

"You are, indeed, so very close. Don't question who your heart chose." An answer that didn't rule out asking Nico for help, right?

"That's settled, then. We'd better get a move on, now…"

Before Niccolò could take another step, however, he was hoisted onto Martino's shoulders.

"It's quicker like this, though you truly weight a ton." Nico sharply tugged his hair hearing that remark… And Marti couldn't say that he didn't find that hot.

'Not the time go there, brain. Nor the place. File it away for later.'

'Consider it done.'

**********************

By the time they reached the spot Niccolò had in mind, the sun was shining bright in the sky.

Martino had overestimated his strength, and had to take several breaks.

The pain in muscles, however, was nothing compared to the one in his chest at the thought of all those times Nico had walked through that savannah alone. Never knowing if he'd turn back, or if he'd be stuck as a statue until some clumsy animal shattered him.

It couldn't go on like that. It wasn't unacceptable to Martino: something had to be done, as soon as they got rid of his own curse.

They had looked for an acacia tree with boughs strong and wide enough to let them sit side by side, and then Niccolò had taken a lute of his bag.

Marti's bag. Who had not packed that instrument for sure.

"You didn't know you had a lute in your bag, Sir? Have you packed your own luggage, and take responsibility for it, or should I call the authorities?" Niccolò had to make fun of his confusion, of course. "Summoning charms, Marti. Kind of what I do best."

"Shut up and sing. That's what you do best."

"Awwww, thanks. That's an oxymoron, however. Should I shut up or sing?"

"Sing!" He barked out, not meaning to make it sound like an order… expect it totally was.

"Uhh, we're getting all hot and bothered. Assertive. I like it… Let me just choose something fit for us… Mhh… That should do, I don't think my friend Cesare will mind if I tweak his lyrics a little and make it ours." He cleared his voice, after that little talk with himself, and then he finally started singing.

"Diciam sempre ‘io non cerco amore’, che preferiamo badare a noi. Ma questa non è la verità, vieni a vedere perché."

Come and see why we keep saying we aren’t looking for love, why we would rather take care of ourselves on our own. Come and find out that it's not true.

"Mi vedono sempre ridere, ma questa non è la realtà. Piango ogni notte, sempre per lei. Vieni a vedere perché." People only saw the carefree, sunny side of Niccolò. They didn't know the truth, didn't know how she - his head, Marti assumed, since he touched his temple when he sang that word - made him cry himself to sleep. Come and see why.

Marti nearly flatlined a minute later, at the "C'è chi rinuncia all'amore solo perché non ne ha avuto mai. Eccomi qua, dammelo e poi… Ora capisci perché dico sempre che odio l'amore, che non mi serve a niente, però.. Prego perché, il Signore lo sa… che prima o poi lo troverò."

How could he not?

When Niccolò was saying that there were those who gave up love, only because they had never experienced it. When he was reassuring Martino hat he was there, if Marti wanted to love him back. And then he would understand why, despite saying that he hated that feeling, Nico was praying that he would find him, someday.

Too depressingly sappy for Marti's taste, to be fair, but still a nice song. And the enchanted box seemed to agree, at last!

Niccolò could have sung about the weather, and it would have worked nonetheless… because it came from him.

A more upbeat song, on the other hand, would have not drawn those majestic yellow and brown creatures out of their hiding. Giraffes, uh?

Much bigger than had pictured them, but not quite as scary. They reminded him a bit of Chicco, but also of fawns with that little horns they on their head, the big brown eyes… and he found endearing how the smaller ones would totter, with those legs that looked way too long and tiny for their bodies, especially if they had to bend down to eat something, or break into a sprint.

None were bawling, though there were some who had been moved by the sound of Nico's voice and were quietly weeping.

If only Marti could collect a couple of those droplets, somehow…

"Awww, Berta. It's okay. I'm okay. Come here, you big sap." While Marti had been marvelling at the whole tower, the tiniest and scrawniest out them had started her wobbly walk towards them. She looked like she would fall at every step, but then she didn't. Slowly - though not quite steadily - she had reached them, and she was now bending her neck to let herself be petted by Niccolò.

He could have sat there, enraptured such a sweet display of mutual trust and affection, for hours…

"The vial, Marti?" But then Niccolò reminded him what they were supposed to do here.

Vial? What vial?

Oh, right. The one needed to save those tears and bring them back to Gio..

He must have taken an empty one with him, come on!

Ha! Found it!

"We did it! Now Gio's got everything he needs for the sleeping potion, hasn't he?" It warmed him up inside, to hear his best friend's name on Nico's lips. He couldn't wait to introduce them to each other, find out what shenanigans they could get themselves into.

"Yeah!" Oh, he was so happy he could kiss Niccolò.

"Then do it, you coward." Nico challenged him, gently stroking the back of his neck.

Oops. Did he said that aloud?

"Me? I am the coward? What about you, huh? I sense a massive bias, h-"

Uh. Had he been shushed with a kiss? Yes. Totally. Unequivocally. Did he mind? Not one bit.

It was better than he could have ever imagined. Soft, unhurried but sizzling hot at the same time. It made him feel light-headed, but sharpened his senses. And they all zeroed-in on Nico.

He would have gladly reciprocated, but then the whole world went black.

Oh, what a way to go.

#skam italia #nicotino #my writing #final countdown weeks #week 2 #day five: canzone

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hungover-and-broke-student · 4 years

Text

100 character development questions

these are fun questions so i wanted to answer them all here

original post

001. When is their birthday?

- Today! October 10th 1995

002. Do they do anything to celebrate their birthday?

- Her parents used to bake her a cake but since living alone she just makes herself cupcakes

003. Does your character like coffee better, or tea?

- She likes both but coffee does a better job but tea tastes better

004. Do they prefer being alone or with others?

- She spends a lot of time alone and has convinced herself it’s what she wants

005. Are they in good health?

- Kind of? she could stand to take better care of herself

006. What sense do they most rely on?

- Sight, she won’t wear a hood if it obstructs her peripheral vision

007. Is your character an optimist or a pessimist?

- Pessimist cause she’s either right or pleasantly surprised

008. What is their favorite fairy tale?

- Chicken Little

009. Do they believe in happy endings?

- She does but for others, not herself

010. Do they believe in love at first sight?

- Unfortunately no

011. How would your character court the person of their dreams?

- Awkwardly try and fail at flirting

012. What makes your character embarrassed?

- Being made to look foolish or stupid in front of others

013. Have they ever been bullied or teased?

- Yep, especially in elementary through middle school

014. Detail one secret shame your character feels.

- She hasn’t been able to graduate on time and it secretly eats away at her

015. Are they most likely to fight with their fists or their tongue?

- Fists, she’ll start talking but get herself in deeper trouble

016. What is their choice of weapon?

- A box cutter she uses for work or a baseball bat studded with nails

017. When does your character think that violence is justified or deserved?

- She believes it’s justified to protect one’s self or friends and deserved when people do amoral shit. If you hurt kids she’ll curb stomp you

018. Your character wakes up to find that war has been declared. What do they do?

- Either not give a shit or join an underground anti-war resistance group

019. If they could have a superpower, what would they choose?

- Flight or invisibility

020. What are their hobbies?

- She likes sewing and crafting

021. How do they display affection?

- She’ll want to spend a lot of time with them and bake them cookies

022. What is the most beautiful thing they’ve ever seen?

- She once went out to the desert and got to see the stars with no light pollution. The view in Gotham depresses her

023. What do they consider beautiful in others physically?

- Expressive eyes and a good laugh. Big muscles are a plus too

024. What do they consider ugly in others physically?

- Those who give an air of superiority

025. What do they consider beautiful in others personality-wise?

- If she can have fun with them and not feel judged

026. What do they consider ugly in others personality-wise?

- Taking advantage of others and cruelty

027. What is their idea of perfect happiness?

- A life free from debt

028. What makes them laugh out loud?

- A well delivered joke or clever pun can never fail

029. What sort of sense of humor does your character have?

- Some might call it childish

030. Do they believe in the afterlife?

- She’ll say no but secretly believes in ghosts

031. Are they superstitious about anything?

- She tries to read omens but doesn’t always get them entirely right

032. Does your character believe in ghosts?

- Yes, but she’ll never really admit it until she gets proof

033. Do they keep their promises?

- Tries to, but it doesn’t always work out

034. What’s their view of lying?

- Of course it sucks to be lied to and she wants to be honest with people but sometimes you need to save your own skin

035. What is the most important rule your character lives by?

- Don’t get stuck in Penguin’s pocket and don’t go to a second location, they will kill you

036. How honorable is your character?

- Not very, she’ll lie cheat and steal if need be but can be loyal to a fault

037. If your character saw someone drop a large sum of money and knew that they could probably take it without anyone noticing, what would they do?

- If they were just a regular Joe she’d at least try to give the money back, otherwise just take it

038. What bad habits do they have?

- Smoking, drinking, drugs, mouthing off to powerful people

039. What do they think is the worst thing that can be done to a person?

- Fucking with someone’s sense of reality and/or breaking someone’s teeth

040. What is their obsession?

- She doesn’t really have one

041. Are they comfortable with technology?

- Comfortable enough, she can print a document but don’t ask her to code anything

042. What is their greatest achievement?

- Getting into college

043. What will they stand up for?

- She’ll stand up for those weak or in need

044. What disgusts them?

- Cruelty and general disregard for others

045. Does your character have any chronic medical conditions?

- Chronic headaches/migraines that’s about it

046. How do they handle getting sick?

- Not well, she’ll be mad and grumpy at herself

047. What was the last medical problem your character had?

- She got food poisoning from a bodega cheese steak sandwich, spent almost two days vomiting

048. Do they have any allergies?

- I think I’ve said she’s allergic to tomatoes in the past but I decided to change it to shellfish

049. How does your character feel about growing old?

- She never thought she’d live this long, growing old is almost unthought of

050. How does your character feel about their own mortality?

- The fact that she will die doesn’t bother her, the question of how and will it hurt like hell does

051. If they knew they would die tomorrow, what would they do today?

- Probably just have a very chill day getting stoned

052. What is your character’s worst flaw?

- Not thinking things through and mouthing off to the wrong people

053. What is your character’s greatest strength?

- She’s able to notice things others might overlook and find creative solutions to problems

054. Does your character want power or authority of any kind?

- No, being in power doesn’t appeal to her, too many people will want what you have

055. Is your character an introvert or an extrovert?

- Introvert

056. Has your character ever struck someone in anger?

- Yes, she’s not proud of it

057. Has your character ever killed anyone?

- Not purposely, she tries not to think about it

058. What is your character’s idea of a perfect day?

- It’s cold and rainy outside and all she has to do is get cozy and find a movie

059. List several phrases your character is fond of uttering. Where did they pick them up?

- “beg your pardon?” from just being southern “ex-fucking-cuse me?” a phrase from her dear old dad “suck a dick, dumbshit” from bojack horseman

060. What is your character’s attitude toward education and learning?

- She loves learning, hates the price tag attached and was never really good in school

061. Does your character prefer adventure or safety and security?

- She thinks she wants safety and security but she prefers the excitement of adventure

062. What sort of legacy does your character wish to leave behind?

- A legacy of caring for her friends

063. How well does your character handle difficult people?

- She’ll be nice in a forced customer service setting and glare behind their backs.

064. In what ways does your character annoy others?

- She can be aloof and has been described as being “a little shit”

065. Is your character better at leading or following? Which do they prefer?

- She’s no good at leading others, she’s marginally better at following but doesn’t like being told what to do

066. Does your character prefer city life or being out in nature?

- Being in nature is nice and all but the city has her stuff

067. Does your character believe in fate or destiny?

- Not really but it makes a nice scapegoat when things go wrong

068. How strong is your character’s sense of responsibility? What kinds of things trigger it?

- She feels a responsibility towards her friends and family but especially for her fish, Gene

069. What about your character is heroic?

- She’ll stick up for people in need, even if she doesn’t know them

070. What about your character is cowardly?

- She’ll lie and deflect responsibility for her failures

071. How kind is your character?

- Depends on whose asking

072. In a Dungeons & Dragons game, which class would your character be? (wizard, fighter, bard, priest, ranger, etc.)

- probably a bard and annoy everyone

073. In a novel, what plot role would your character fill? (hero, anti-hero, sidekick, villain, etc.)

- Villain’s unwilling underling, is in it for the dental insurance or to pay off her own debts

074. What is your character’s favorite game?

- Puzzle games, especially portal and portal 2

075. Is your character ticklish?

- Yes, but don’t tell her I told you

076. How do they express anger?

- Her fists will clench and she’ll probably yell or try to kick their ass.

077. How often do they cry? Over what?

- She either cries over any and everything or goes months without expressing emotions

078. How emotionally stable is your character?

- She’s not, though trying to work on it

079. How easy is it for them to read the emotions of others?

- She can pick up on emotions but doesn’t always get it exactly right

080. How easy is it for others to read your character’s emotions?

- Too easy, her face is expressive and gives her away more often than not

081. Is your character religious?

- Nope, if anything she hates the Christian God and actively distances herself from it. Christmas is nice tho

082. What are your character’s sleeping preferences?

- Either on her side or stomach under an absurd amount of blankets

083. What is the first thing they say and/or do when they wake up?

- Checks her phone and freaks out because she’s probably late

084. Describe your character in one word.

- Tired

085. Describe your character in three words.

- Doing her best (and failing)

086. How would your character describe themself in one word?

- Broke

087. How would your character describe themself in three words?

- “I’m so tired”

088. Is your character quiet or loud?

- Generally quiet

089. How vocally expressive is your character?

- Very, she can mask her disdain in a customer service voice but otherwise it gives her away most of the time

090. How bodily expressive is your character?

- She’s pretty expressive

091. What type of music does your character like?

- Lots of Pink Floyd and the Clash

092. What emotion does your character evoke in others?

- Probably annoyance

093. What is your character’s goal in life?

- Graduate and get out of Gotham eventually, maybe move out west

094. Name three things most would not expect your character to be able to know.

- 1) How it feels to get shocked by an electric fence, 2) knowledge of decomposition specifically human decomposition, 3) how to hot wire a car

095. Name three things most would not expect your character to be able to do

- 1) drive stick shift, 2) sneak around unheard and unseen, 3) hold her breath for up to 3.5 minutes.

096. How do they move and carry themselves? What energy do they project?

- She has decent posture but often carries herself in a way to project to others to stay away most of the time

097. How well do they adapt to change?

- Badly, she doesn’t like sudden change at all

098. Does your character like animals?

- Loves them, she’ll feed the pigeons around Gotham

099. Do they talk to inanimate objects?

- Pretty often, she’ll apologize to a table if she walks into it and will greet stuffed animals in stores

100. Does your character dream? If so, what do they dream about?

- She has a lot of nightmares but usually can’t remember what about, usually about being watched or trying to convince someone of something and not being believed.

#ooc #lotsa questions #meme

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nadziejastar · 4 years

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Thoughts on Soranort?

“Hey, I got an idea. Ask your heart. See if it’s got a clue.”

“Well…my heart was aching. That’s why I kept going.”

It was almost too much to bear. The sorrow—the pain, and so many other feelings. A suffering so much greater than anything he’d ever known. Hatred, sadness, anger, jealousy, fear, resentment, anguish, envy, uncertainty, pain, despair. Who did these feelings come from? Roxas? That woman? Those two people called me Ven—maybe him? Or someone else?

“Oh… Thank you, Sora’s heart, for pushing him right into our clutches. Aren’t hearts great? Steer us wrong every time,” Xigbar remarked, mocking as ever.

Personally, I don’t think he would have made a good Nort. But that’s why he was the hero.

Sora was targeted as a vessel because he had pain inside of him. The pain wasn’t really his, though. It was the memories inside of him, which didn’t even belong to him. That’s why I think he’d make a pretty boring seeker of darkness, from a story standpoint. He’s better suited as the hero. I think almost all the Norts were handled VERY poorly, though. The Dark Seeker Saga just turned out to be a huge flop in the end. It was supposed to be all about healing pain. Not just for the missing guardians of light. But the seekers of darkness, too. There was a reason they all got Norted, which KH3 did a VERY poor job explaining. It was because they all had pain that led them to abandoning their heart.

Ansem’s mouth twisted into a smirk. “If he wavers from the path we lay, we destroy him.”

“But in that case…we’ll have to find ourselves another vessel.”

Xigbar barked a laugh. Another vessel…, he says, as if it’s nothing. Just one piece of their grand, far-reaching plan.

“That is why we never have just one iron in the fire,” Xemnas replied matter-of-factly.

KH3 was supposed to be all about Xehanort’s search for a replacement vessel after Sora failed in KH3D. Vessels are not easy to come by, so “reserve members” shouldn’t even be a thing. I think the person they were supposed to be talking about in this scene was Davy Jones. He was a perfect vessel because he didn’t have a heart, but he didn’t die. He cast away his heart because it caused him pain. He would have been like the Beast in KH2, where they were trying to get him to join he organization.

This world could have felt like it was relevant to the main story. But Davy Jones’ heart got little focus and all anyone cared about was the stupid black box, which isn’t even relevant in this game. The whole idea of the seekers of darkness becoming vessels because of pain got very little attention. When you defeated them in the Keyblade Graveyard, there should have been a sense of healing for each character’s pain and a sense of resolution to their story. The sad remix of the organization music was SO GOOD. Instead, most of them ended on a cliffhanger, which is absurd.

And then there was the heart that nestled close to mine. There, it continued to quietly encourage me. If he hadn’t been there, I wouldn’t be here now, standing in front of his grave.

Master, did you forgive me? Or maybe I haven’t been forgiven yet and I’m only still here so I can atone? I know there are no answers to my questions and no one has to forgive me for my sins. Even entertaining the thought of being forgiven is so presumptuous of me. A weakness.

The only vessel handled even semi-decently was Terra. His personal pain was given a lot of focus in BBS, so his story didn’t feel particularly incomplete… except when it came to Eraqus. I don’t feel Terra got proper closure with him. Terra didn’t even know if Eraqus forgave him, which is just sad. Terra’s messed up relationship with Eraqus was the whole reason he fell to darkness. It was his doubt that Eraqus truly loved him like a son that made him so susceptible to manipulation. It broke my heart how Terra was reluctant to hug Eraqus at the end.

“Not your concern.” With those parting words, Xehanort strode away. Eraqus slammed a fist into the floor as he watched him go.

Why did I fail to stop him? Is it my fault? Where did I go wrong? Is the darkness itself what beguiled him so? Must this plague steal my dear friend from me?

Then you got Young and Master Xehanort. In BBS, people kinda saw Xehanort as Lord Voldemort. People couldn’t see how Terra could trust him, because he was so obviously evil. But he was human, too. He was Eraqus’s dear friend. I’d be willing to bet it was some personal pain with Eraqus that led to Xehanort falling to darkness completely. Xehanort had no backstory, though, so it was hard to understand why he gave up or why he and Eraqus seemed so happy together in the end.

Ansem talked about some kind of betrayal, but I had no idea what he was even referring to here.

Xemnas also had pain. He had Terra’s memories, spent years looking for Ventus in the Chamber of Waking. He was lonely, though this is never explored in any way.

I think Luxord probably joined the organization voluntarily. But why? He isn’t loyal to Xemnas. I doubt his original backstory was being some amnesiac Keyblade wielder from the age of fairy tales. He hinted at some personal pain due to “compulsive behavior”. I’m sure he had a sad backstory that caused him to join for his own reasons.

Why am I in the Organization? Well, I mean, there’s lots of reasons, but—oh, right! I wanted friends, right? Oh, no. Wow, actually no, that sounded way uncool but… now I’m thinking back on it and I’m just like, yeah, I guess it kinda was like that, huh.

Aside from the whole old guys’ club going on, it kinda seems like there were a lotta tight-knit groups in the Organization. Y’know, like Axel and Saix, Marluxia and Larxene, Zexion and Vexen, and Xaldin and Lexaeus? And I guess in the end, I hung out with the old guy a lot.

Yeah, so it’s not like it’s a big deal, seriously that’s it. I hate fighting and jamming out is way more fun. Sad stuff, painful stuff, why would I wanna do anything like that?

Let’s assume that Demyx was supposed to be a real member of the true organization instead of Xion (which is what I believe). His Character File story hints that he had pain and also that he became very close to Luxord. Which makes sense because they were some of the only members left after Castle Oblivion. Axel spent all his time with Saix, Roxas, and Xion. So, Demyx and Luxord really had no one else, and probably hung out with each other a lot. So, Demyx might have joined because of Luxord. But this is never explored in any way and Demyx is just a plot device to deliver Replicas.

SYMBOLISM Strelitzia is seen as the flower of freedom, and also represents immortality and paradise.

In early trailers, Marluxia had green eyes in the Rapunzel world, meaning he was not even supposed to be fully Norted before the final battle. So, I think he did join the organization of his own free will. But he had personal pain that led up to it. The loss of his sister. She said she’d carry him on her back, then his final boss form in CoM has him riding atop this strange woman figure. All very interesting. This is something that should have been wrapped up in this saga, though.

Sigh, it was so much better when I had no heart. When I didn’t have to worry about things like liking someone. Becoming fond of something is painful. That’s why those feelings were taken advantage of.

I think Larxene loved Marluxia and wanted to be by his side. She didn’t even want to regain a heart because it caused her pain. There should have been resolution to that at the end of KH3 instead of leaving it dangling.

Xigbar had pain, too. He was constantly haunted by his memory of Ventus glaring at him. You could tell that he was jealous of the bonds the other characters had. He commits suicide at the end due to the guilt he has. I would have said that his story was handled well if it ended with his suicide. It was pretty sad. But they reversed it and made it out to be a ruse. Xigbar was just faking his entire personality the whole time and was really Luxu all along. WTF!? I just can’t…

I wanted to be like you. I was jealous of you. Who was I exactly? Did I even exist? I’m just a puppet with no heart whose fake memories were planted in my head.

I was made, I’m artificial, I’m a fake. What do I need to become a real person? Or rather, was I a real fake? I fell into the dark and wandered the world of darkness.

Riku Replica’s story wasn’t resolved well, either. He spends all of CoM being tormented about not being the real Riku and that no doubt leads him to joining the organization. But then after he’s defeated, he gets no closure to his identity crisis. Instead, another “good” Riku Replica comes and rips the “evil” Replica’s soul out (WTF?) and then that story is over. It becomes all about Namine at that point. He sacrifices his only chance at life for her, which is kinda weird and depressing. I would have preferred if Riku Replica gained some kind of peace with being a part of Riku and then going home into his heart, like Xion did at the end of Days.

Whereas Ven’s worries and suffering were proof of his growth, his proclivity toward the light, Vanitas’s own misery was merely a pitch-black morass that brought with it nothing but pain.

We’re so different, but I could feel you every step of the way. I bet you didn’t notice me at all. What does this battle between us mean to you? You probably don’t have a clue that it means our hearts are intertwining. The fight itself doesn’t matter. What’s important is that our struggle makes us feel the same things. You hate me for trying to hurt your friend now, right? And I hate you right back for having friends at all.

Never once is any attention given to Vanitas’s pain. He despised Ventus and was jealous of the fact that he had friends. All the Unversed came from his negative emotions. Ventus told him they were the same and that he needed to come home inside of his heart, but…he doesn’t? Instead of finding some kind of peace by going back to Ventus, he just… disappears.

The person who probably suffered the most was Axel. Because he’s the one who forgot the most. Being forgotten and forgetting, they’re both painful.

Saix’s pain turned out to be a joke. He couldn’t find some random girl he spoke to a few times, boo hoo, such a sad tragic backstory. He had to be quickly turned into a good guy before the epilogue, so he only joined to “atone” not because of any pain. His real pain was supposed to be about his relationship with Lea.

Cancer is ruled by the Moon, the planet of receptivity. It’s the zodiac sign related to feeling and emotions in our hearts. Cancer is, in many ways, the most sensitive and vulnerable sign of the zodiac. They feel deeply, but they’re not sure what to do about their feelings.

Emotions tend to play a dominate role in the lives of people born under Cancer. Naturally defensive and sometimes afraid of being hurt, they tend to put their heart and soul into all their relationships, and are very faithful, loyal and loving partners. Cancer people are extremely sensitive to matters of the heart. It is easy to hurt their feelings and they become deeply emotionally wounded when wronged, and can take a long time getting over it.

Also, I just really like the idea of Saix as a Seeker of Darkness. Cancers have very delicate hearts and are very emotional people who are vulnerable to pain.

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welllpthisishappening · 5 years

Text

[Always] A Boast or Brag

Alright, it’s Fourth of July. Hockey players are consistently absurd in the offseason. And @stealing-vengence sent me an ask earlier today suggesting that something from this post of the aforementioned hockey players being absurd would help inspire some words. So, uh, I spent 30 minutes typing before getting absolutely wrecked at mini-golf and here we are.

Set the summer after Matt is born, so this is actually July 4, 2019 here. It’s like, only, two thousand words! A drabble!

I hope you guys all have/had/will continue to have a good Fourth, but also, like, America is kind of a disaster, so if you’ve got a few extra bucks maybe send ‘em here so you can help other people. Let’s be good people.

------

It really was a dumb idea.

A stupid idea.

An idiotic idea.

A vaguely patriotic idea

Emma wasn’t even sure if that last one made sense, but Mrs. Vankald had outdone herself and they were in Colorado and it was probably…something about the sun. Or the holiday. Or how stupid it was that Emma was still so incredibly, possibly irrationally, attracted to her own husband.

Particularly when he kept splashing in a pool with their son.

That was just unfair.

So, really, she could not be held accountable for whatever happened next.

Because what happened next might have been the dumbest thing she’d ever done.

“I’m telling you, the logistics of it are possible,” Liam said, and Emma knew it wasn’t the first time he’d used those words in that exact order, but she’d admittedly only kind of been paying attention.

Will shook his head slowly, slumped against the stairs at the other end. “Have you lost your mind?”

“You don’t think so?”

“I think you’re drunk and you’re insane.”

“No, no, no—“

“—That’s totally what it is,” Robin interrupted. He hadn’t gotten in the pool once, more than content to spend most of the afternoon on a chair next to Regina while both of their kids did their best to get as much water on the deck as possible.

Mrs. Vankald must have bulk-ordered American flag bathing suits.

“Do you have any idea what he’s talking about?” Emma murmured, bumping her arm against Elsa’s. She couldn’t actually see her roll her eyes, what with the sunglasses and the absolute refusal to change into flag-branded despite the uproar of the peanut gallery and their announcements that she should have been the most patriotic of all, but Emma could feel it. She knew it.

The muscles in her face were starting to ache from all the smiling.

“Scarlet is right, it’s definitely an alcohol thing,” she muttered, drawing an indignant sound out of Liam and a laugh out of Killian. It made Matt splash even more. “But, yes, I do.”

“And you want to share with the class, or…”

“Leader thinks we should be playing chicken,” Will explained. “But like—“

“—Ultimate chicken,” Liam amended, and Emma’s eyes couldn’t flicker to Killian’s quickly enough. He was wearing flag-branded sunglasses. That was also kind of distracting.

It was the mostly the kid thing, though.

“And what,” Emma started, “is ultimate chicken, exactly?”

Liam actually stood up a bit straighter. It wasn’t all that easy, one of the twins hanging off his side while the other appeared especially insulted that Roland could get more splash on his cannonball, but he certainly made an effort and Emma had to bite her lip to stop from laughing.

It was an idiotic idea.

“Ultimate chicken,” Liam said, “is, as its name implies, the ultimate form of physical—“

“—Oh my God, say combat,” Regina muttered, not taking her eyes off the magazine in her hand.

Liam’s shoulders slumped. “It’s not combat, Your Highness. It’s…well, it’s chicken. Like pool chicken, you know?”

“He’s only doing this because it’s the one thing we didn’t have when we were kids,” Anna laughed. She dropped on Emma’s other side, Lizzie clinging to the straps of her bathing suit top and her eye roll was really more a full body roll.

“No pool,” Elsa added.

Emma nodded, a soft ahh and another glance Killian’s direction. He grinned. “He’s a giant whiner is really what’s going on,” Killian said, hauling Matt in his arms and the splashes were even larger when they were more like kicks.

Her heart felt like it was going to explode.

Like a firework.

So, at least she was on brand.

“Do not act like you guys were not disappointed about the pool thing,” Liam shouted, but that only led to more laughter and Emma was a little worried Will was going to drown. He kept sliding further down the steps.

“No one was disappointed about a pool. Water was supposed to be frozen, not swum in. Swam in? What’s the right tense there?”

“Didn’t go to college,” Regina muttered.

Killian stuck his tongue out at her. And then immediately started blowing raspberries on Matt’s stomach.

“You realize that I’m still waiting on an explanation for ultimate chicken,” Emma pointed out, and Will was absolutely going to drown.

Liam slung Charlie over his back, leveling Emma with a very specific type of stare that she was starting to believe was, in fact, genetic. She didn’t blink. “You’re familiar with chicken?”

“Didn’t grow up with a pool either.”

“Ok, don’t be difficult.” She splashed him, reveling a bit in the way he sputtered against the water. Killian was openly smirking at her now. “Jeez,” Liam grumbled. “See if I ask you to be on my team.”

“Was he always this bad at getting to the point?” Robin asked. “Why did we ever let him be in charge of anything?”

“It’s three-person chicken! God,” Liam groaned, not able tot how his head back like Emma knew he wanted to. That was probably also genetic. “So it’s two people on top, instead of one and then we—“

“—Do combat,” Regina finished.

“I hate all of you.”

“God bless, us everyone,” Anna said, Killian shaking his head.

“Wrong holiday.”

“Your sunglasses are stupid.”

“Don’t tell your mom that.”

“She’s watching 1776.”

“Of course she is.”

“Is no one going to agree to ultimate chicken?” Liam asked, but every word was a bit more petulant than the last and Elsa wasn’t even trying to mask her laugh. Will had started floating at some point.

“You’re going to kill all of us, if we do that,” Robin said.

“Where is your adventurous spirit?”

“Stuck in my rookie season.”

“He’s old, you see,” Killian drawled. Robin threw a towel at him. “Hey, c’mon, I’m not throwing things at your kids!”

“Yeah, my kids are throwing themselves, so that threat doesn’t hold any—“

“—Water,” Elsa and Anna shouted at the same time, identical laughs and wide smiles and Emma was fairly certain the warm flutter of feeling under her skin didn’t have anything to do with the sun.

Killian glanced at her again.

She shrugged.

She’d never played chicken before.

And it was the dumbest, stupidest idea in the history of the world.

“Liam, you’re going to have to be some kind of super strong base,” Emma said, pulling her legs out of the water so she could get back in the water. It was a very round-about way of doing things, but then, she supposed, ultimate chicken was also kind of strange and Liam looked a little overjoyed. “Because I’m not sitting on anyone’s shoulders except Killian’s.”

“Tough break,” Killian quipped, a smile practically dripping with sarcasm now.

“Are you guys kidding me?”

Emma shook her head. “I don’t think we’re going to be able to stand up, if I’m being honest, but you deserve to live your dream, Liam Jones, so…”

“You’re making fun.”

“Yes. Obviously.”

Elsa snickered, sliding into the pool as well. “Which is what you deserve, babe,” she said, a quick kiss to his cheek. “Scarlet, are we doing this, then?”

“Yeah, of course we are.”

Liam gaped at them. “You guys are kidding.”

“This is what you wanted, Liam,” Killian reasoned. “You two need a third, though. Otherwise we’re killing ourselves for nothing.”

“If any of you die, I’m going to be very frustrated,” Regina said.

“Noted. I’m serious, El, find another third person or—“

“—Obviously I’m going to do it,” Anna announced, sounding more than a little annoyed that they hadn’t realized. “I’ve just got to…” She glanced around, like one of the Vankalds would appear suddenly to take over child-watching duties and this entire family was a joke and a fairy tale and goddamn wonderful because Mrs. Vankald did, in fact, appear, phone in one hand and “Sit Down, John” humming in the air around her. Anna handed Lizzie over.

And got water everywhere when she jumped in the pool.

Liam groaned and Killian laughed and Matt sounded overjoyed, so many people and moving water and Regina finally put her magazine down to mutter give me that kid before retreating back to her chair almost immediately.

Which was, probably, for the best because the whole thing was as absurd as Emma thought it would be.

Liam had to crouch in the middle of the pool, just shallow enough that he wasn’t treading water, Killian clamoring onto his shoulders and there were more than a few god, skate more, you weigh six tons, exchanged before Emma felt like she could even attempt to get on.

That was a very strange sentence.

That was probably a metaphor for America.

“This is not going to work,” she muttered, but both Jones brothers shook their head. She was not surprised Killian was already determined to win. Over-competitive idiot.

“It is, Swan. Look, look, we’ve got logistics and—“

Liam let out a triumphant noise. “I knew you’d come around eventually, little brother.”

“My foot is very close to your face, you want to try that again?”

“Jeez,” Anna sighed. “It’s like time has not passed at all.”

Emma took a deep breath, trying not to think of all the ways this was going to completely blow up in her face. That was another fireworks joke. “Ok,” she said. “Liam, you’ve got to get lower, you are severely overestimating my climbing ability.” Killian snickered. “Oh, do not,” she warned, slinging a leg halfway up Killian’s arm.

“Something about a tree, right, love?”

“I will kick you.”

“You’re not that flexible.”

She nipped at the shell of his ear, making him laugh and wobble and Liam cursed loudly. “Alright, alright,” Emma chanted, a poor attempt to psych herself up. Her right leg had gotten over Killian’s shoulder, but her left foot was still on the ground, a shaky base and the out-of-practice thigh muscles of Liam Jones and—“I’m just gonna…”

The rest of the words got caught in her throat, any sense of the English language quickly mutating into a scream and a shout and something far closer to a shriek. The water was cold. And everywhere.

It shot into Emma’s mouth and up her nose, trying to breathe despite the distinct lack of oxygen and she flailed like she’d just been thrown over the side of a ship instead of falling off her husband’s shoulders while playing the world’s most ridiculous pool game.

She sputtered as soon as she crested back up, breathing heavily and…Killian smiled at her. Broadly. His hair was everywhere, strands stuck to his forehead and, somehow, below his right eyebrow, drops of water falling from his jaw line and the tip of his nose.

There was the start of a bruise on his arm.

“Did I do that?” Emma asked, reaching out and that might have been her biggest mistake, because it only made it easier for him to pull her flush against his chest. And kiss her. While he was still smiling.

She could briefly make out Anna’s grumbled idiots.

Killian nosed at her cheek, a nip to her lower lip and another kiss that threatened to make Emma’s knees wobble. More. They’d somehow, migrated to the deeper end of the pool.

“Liam’s got absolutely no control of his limbs,” Killian mumbled, and she didn’t remember moving her arms around his neck.

She wasn’t really treading water.

That was nice.

“Yeah, so, we’re not doing that,” Will announced. “I refuse to reach this level of Jones insanity.”

Emma hummed, letting her forehead rest against Killian’s. “That’s fair. You ok, though?”

“Better,” Killian promised. “Gina, give me back my kid.”

Regina didn’t need to be told twice, moving Matt back into Killian’s arms and those kicks weren’t quite as strong as Liam’s, but it was something else about genetics and happiness and, probably, the overall state of the summer. The pool was nice. And the sun was warm.

And 1776 was, it appeared, a very good way to get their kid to fall asleep, Emma curled against Killian’s side hours later with Matt’s eyes closed and John Adams singing in the background.

#cs ff #blue line one shots #seriously if you ever think wow i should send this to laura but i don't know if she'll actually write it #lemme tell you #i'll write it #hockey family feelings are my favorite kind of feelings #also i'm getting crazy close to a pretty major follower milestone and i think we may do another prompt a thon #so #also now i've got grand old flag stuck in my head

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ontowanderlust · 7 years

Text

First Kiss: On the back of her hand/ The first time they ever met

Note: This started out more as a gag fiction for my friend who hated kisses and mushy stuff and well, I got the inspiration when I witnessed him having to pry my other friend who has this weird infatuation with him. When I got the idea, I couldn’t help but laugh and proceeded on writing it despite to his protests. Now, since I’m posting it in this blog, I completely revised the whole thing and make it more of Once type rather than what I had written originally. Though I had fun writing it because it is more of Hogwarts AU before. Now, it’s just whole Once Upon A Time AU.

Speaking of AU, this is more of Cursed!AU with Peter Pan x Reader (Sorry, it’s all I can write for now...) Takes place during the first season where Emma Swan was first brought into Storybrooke and yes, Peter was swept by the curse too.

Just a little bit of a background, Reader is the Princess of Underworld and her story is that she was born because she was prophesied to do something (it is an on-going story of mine in ffnet although in that version, Peter Pan isn’t really her love interest). In this version, she and Pan had already met couple of times in Enchanted Forest and well... they are the best of friends. The name Camryn Hale is her given name in the Underworld (such the irony cause Hale came from the word Halo) while Y/N is the reader’s cursed name. Get it?

This is the first arc of Seven Kisses series. There will be seven parts for this, (duh) and well.... I hope you guys would enjoy this.

Prompt: First Kiss: On the back of her hand/ The first time they ever met.

“Get ready to have your mind blown,” Henry announced as he struggled on climbing the unoccupied stool beside you while he clutched onto his beloved story book.

You pulled your attention from the homework you were working on only to see the amusing sight of your only friend struggling as he tried to sit next to you.

“You could place the book on the counter so that you could haul yourself easier, you know.” you stifled a snicker when Henry sighed and did what you told him to do, successfully sitting next to you this time.

“Thanks,” he muttered to which you shrugged at nonchalantly, returning your attention back to your supposed homework.

“I heard from Ruby that your quest to find your birth mother is successful.” you told him after you gave up on answering the stupid math problem, averting your attention to the little boy beside you as Ruby set down his hot cocoa. “Shouldn’t you be spending time with her rather than with plain old me?”

Henry grinned as if he knew something that you don’t. “Oh she’ll be here later, I just wanted to talk to you before you disappear on me again.”

You are very elusive to people, your detached nature makes you very hard to find (not that people cared enough to look for you) because of such, you weren’t noticed by people much, hence why Henry is the only person you consider as friend.

You didn’t mind it- the solitude. In fact, you embrace it as it calms you. There are times that it bothers you with having no one to talk to but with Henry constantly around you, it doesn’t matter anymore.

“And what is it that would make my mind blown away?” you asked, referring to Henry’s statement earlier. The little boy smiled as he opened his book to a particular page, showing you a picture that resembles you and some boy.

The picture looks familiar with the red hue, (what kind of place has red skies?) a cliff, and a couple- the boy and the girl- who looked as if they were in some deep conversation.

“Uh...” you looked at Henry for explanation as you weren’t sure why the boy is showing you this particular story in his book.

“Remember about my theory?” he asked vaguely to which you nodded at. You were one of the very few people that Henry confided with his fairy tale theory as most people (his mayor mom) find it absolutely absurd but not you. You were curious as to why Henry would think of such way and you knew that having hyperactive imagination isn’t really a very good refute to such belief.

“What about it?” you asked absentmindedly before the realization kicked in. You turned to him, eyes widened. “You couldn’t possibly tell me that-”

“-This is your story?” he asked to which his grin got a bit wider. “Oh yeah. Check this out, it says here that you were once a princess of the underworld and that you have some prophecy to fulfill. So you spent your life being imprisoned in Hades’ castle- which is your dad by the way- until you fulfilled it.”

Your breath hitched as you listened to Henry as he summarized your ‘supposed’ story. Locked away by my own father? you thought but that would be...

“Ridiculous,” you muttered, tearing Henry’s attention from the book. He glanced at you with sad look dancing in his eyes.

“I know, Y/N.” he muttered sadly as he flipped onto the next page. “But if it makes you feel any better, at least you have your own true love.” he said as if it is the answer to your problems.

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Oh and what about him?” you asked as the bell chimed indicating that there is another customer. You looked up instinctively only to have your gaze locked with mischievous green eyes.

A small gasp left your lips momentarily as you watched the stranger greet your companion amicably as if they had been friends forever. Since when did this stranger befriend Henry? And how come you had never seen this boy before?

You were pulled away from your small musings when you heard someone cleared their throat. You looked back to Henry only to see his eyes twinkle with mirth as if to say he was plotting something you don’t know.

“Y/N,” he couldn’t wipe the grin on his mouth as he gestured towards the boy. “This is Peter,” he introduced as he turned to the stranger- Peter- and introduced you in the same manner.

Peter turned to you as he bowed slightly with a mischievous smirk adorning his mouth, taking your hand as he placed a gentle kiss on it. Your eyes widened as you felt slight sparks jolt through your hand, feeling the familiar sense of deja vu.

"My father will kill both of us when he hears about our escapades this time," you muttered as Thanatos looked like he doesn't really care about what the consequence of not obeying Hades' order of you being escorted back to the palace after your intense training with the grim reaper, a.k.a your mentor. "Details, details, little mistress." Thanatos waved his hand as you fell into a rhythmic pace. "You and I both know just how much you long for a minimum of time outside the palace grounds, and so I intend to at least give in to your wish." You raised your eyebrow. "And why, pray tell, would you indulge me? As far as you are concerned, you do not wish to feel the wrath of my father." Thanatos steered you towards the town Hades had built. "Let's just say... it's a present from me to you." He winked as he spread his wings. "I'll be off collecting souls, be back here in an hour, m'lady." And with that, he disappeared into the air. You sighed as you went inside the first shop you saw which happened to be an antique shop. As far as you know, most establishments in this town are deserted until such time their respective owners die and take their rightful place here. Naturally, you also knew that the Dark One was supposed to run this shop. So, how come this shop is up and running? "Can I help you?" Slightly jumping at the sudden sound of an accented boyish voice, you turned only to meet the greenest eyes you've ever seen in your entire existence. "Oh, uhm... I'm just looking around, sir." The cute stranger-whom you have realized is the boy who never grew up- tilted his head in amusement and irritation. "Sir? I do believe that makes me sound..." "...old?" You supplied to which he nodded, mildly interested. Because you were Hades' daughter, you have the ability to see how the person lived their lives just by looking in their eyes-a gift that enables you to be a fair judge of a person as you are the princess of this realm. Judging fairly had always been the distinguishing factor of your family (if only Hades hadn’t been too greedy for power, that is.) "I don't believe we've met." Peter smirked as he stepped towards to you. "I'm Peter. Peter Pan, and you are?" "Camryn Hale." You curtsied before him as he reached for your hand and placed a gentle kiss on the back of it. "Pleasure to meet you, Princess."

“Pleasure to meet you, Y/N.” he muttered as he gave you a smile as he went on his way, no doubt to order something seeing as that is what he came for in the first place.

You didn’t know how to react, you didn’t know why your emotions are going haywire just by the touch of his lips upon the back of your hand. You couldn’t even string up a coherent sentence!

You turned your attention back to the smug looking Henry as you blinked, silently asking what the hell happened.

“You just met your true love, y/n.”

#Peter Pan x Reader #Cursed! AU OUAT #Seven Kisses series #Peter Pan OUAT #Robbie Kay imagine #Peter Pan OUAT imagine #Peter Pan imagine #OUAT imagine #First Kiss

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diabolikangel158 · 7 years

Text

HAUNTED DARK BRIDAL- Prologue PART 3

Yui ran fearfully through the strange mansion, praying that God would help her in her dire situation. Suddenly a male with blonde hair and smooth blue eyes appeared before her eyes. “Hey,” he says, “You’re so noisy, it’s annoying.”

Yui stuttered at his sudden appearence and says, “A-are you also with those people?”

“With them? Being told that is really upsetting.” The man replies. Yui stuttered out some more, trying to keep the man talking so that she could somehow understand her situation. “If I was forced to say something,” the man continued, commenting on his relationship with the other males in the house, “I’d say there’s an undesirable, but inseparable, link between us.”

Yui is curious about this link and probes, “An undesirable but inseparable link?”

However, the tired looking blonde ignores her questions and decides to ask one of his own. “Are you the woman that guy talked about?”

Yui doesn’t understand, for she doesn’t not know who “that guy” is.

“Hey, Shu! You know something about her?” Ayato appears and asks.

Shu pauses, seemingly unsure of what to say. “Well.”

Kanato also appears an is irritated at Shu’s lack of words and information. “Not “well.” I’d like you to explain the meaning of this neatly.”

“There... Came a message from that guy the other day. “She’s your housemate, be as nice to her as you can,” is all he said.” Shu explained.

Ayato found this incredulous. “Ha? So the house that Breatless was talking about before...”

Laito now appeared as well to join in the conversation. “Aha! That’s like finding a ship when you need to cross, isn’t it?”

“So it seems that it was no error after all.” Reiji commented, appearing just as the others had.

Yui couldn’t believe this. “You’re k-kidding!”

Ayato found Yui’s disbelief amusing. “I~diot,” He teased. “There’s no sense telling a lie is there?”

Yui shook her head, still in denial that this ominious mansion was actually the place her father wanted her to be. “B-but isn’t it strange? My father is a member of the church, and the church sent me here.”

Shu did not share in her confusion. “Isn’t it okay? Being sent here by the church?”

Kanato also did not find her arrival in his home strange. “What is strange?” He asked.

Yui wasn’t sure what to say. “Well, isn’t it obviously weird? I m-mean you’re...”

“You’re what?” Ayato probed.

Yui stuttered, trying to find the words to explain how she felt about these strange men. Shu interrupted before she could find them though. “Because we’re vampires?” He asked.

Yui was taken aback. “Huh? V-vampires?”

Ayato nodded in agreement. “Uh-huh. You just spoiled it.

“S-spoiled you say,” Yui’s words trembled as she spoke them. “I don’t really understand what you’re saying.”

Kanato was annoyed at her confusion. “Isn’t it just like that? We are beings called vampires. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Despite them all telling her they were vampires, she still couldn’t believe them. After all, vampires didn’t exist. They were mere creatures of fairy tales. “You’re kidding right? V-vampires? There’s no way...”

“You’ve said “you’re kidding” many times already since just now. That is unpleasant. Ayato said it too, there is no reason for us to tell you lies.” Reiji commented with annoyance.

“B-but...” Yui insisted.

Liato chuckled, amused by how baffled the young girl was. “Well, well, little bitch. You don’t want to admit it right? The existence of something like us?”

Subaru was now here, deciding to add his own words to the mix. Much like Reiji, he was annoyed at the girl and her hard-headed mind. “It doesn’t matter if she admits it or doesn’t admit it. You’re annoying.”

Vampires...That... No. They definitely just enjoy teasing me. There’s no way something like that could exist. Anyway, if I don’t talk to father and ask him about the truth... Cellphone, cellphone... Yui began searching for her phone.

Ayato noticed Yui searching frantically for something. He fished out the little device the girl had brought with her. “Hey, is this what you’re looking for?”

Yui gasped. “That...! My cellphone! Give it back, please!”

Ayato chuckled as the short girl struggled to retrieve her phone. “What should I do?”

“Cut it out!” Yui pleaded with the red-haired vampire. “You can’t just do with it as you please!”

Ayato’s eyes narrowed, still holding the little device out of Yui’s reach. “What’s up with that tone? I was so kind as to pick it up for you. Is it your idea of good behavior to treat someone who is helping you like that?!”

Yui gasped at Ayato’s harsh behavior and said nothing.

“Hey, Ayato.” Subaru said calmly. “Give that to me.”

“Huh?”

Subaru clicked his tongue, annoyed. “Hand it over, I said!” Subaru ordered, snatching it from Ayato’s grasp.

Yui’s looked at her phone clasped in the firm grip of the pale-haired vampire now. “H-hey, what are you planning to do?”

“I’ll do... that!” Subaru said, crushing the phone in his fist. Yui cried out with surprise. “You’ve been so annoying since you came here.”

The cell phone I just got! H-he broke it! “You’re awful!” Yui yelled.

Laito shook his head sadly. “Now, now, little bitch. Since you are going to be friends with us people of the night, there is no need for things like a cellphone, right?”

Yui began to get angry at the chain of events. “W-who... Just who are you all!?

Despite her anger, Kanato calmly asks, “So, will you be leaving this place?”

Yui seethed with anger at the gall of these men. “Isn’t it obvious? I said I won’t rely on you, I am leaving!”

Kanato smiled slightly. Ahh, so it’s like that? Well, that’s just right, isn’t it?”

Yui creased he brows in confusion, coupled by her anger. “Just right?!”

Kanato continued calmly. “You know, since before, I’ve been starving...”

“So?!”

“Are you really an idiot? If a vampire says he’s hungry, there’s only this, right?” Kanato asked. He then proceeded to push the frail girl down on her back. She cried out at the sudden action. He pushed me down?

“Wait a moment, Kanato.” Ayato interjected. “In these kind of things, the oldest comes first!”

Kanato laughed at Ayato’s interjection. “What stupid things are you saying? There’s nothing like that... right?” He paused. He turned his attention back to Yui. “It’s to late to regret it now, you know? Your blood seems very sweet and delicious.” Kanato snickered. With that, he opened his mouth leaning forward to Yui’s pale neck. H-his fangs... are touching my neck? “I’ll drink without leaving any leftover. Okay?” Kanato stated gently.

Yui began to panic. What should I do? Oh, right! “W-wait a second!” Kanato paused, looking at her with question? “E-eat that!” She screamed, thrusting out he rosary at the lilac-haired monster.

Laito began to giggle loudly. “Little bitch... You’re so entertaining! You have a rosary with you?”

Reiji huffed, “You are the kind to prefer classic methods, aren’t you? How ridiculous.”

Yui’s eyes widened with fear and further confusion. “H-huh? But, vampires are supposed to hate crucifixes and garlic and running water...”

Ayato scoffed. “What kind of fairy tale is that? Useless.”

Yui blinked and yelled out, “I don’t want someone who seems like a fairy tale character to tell me that!”

Kanato sighed. “This is getting annoying... the feeling of my feast and dining table becoming chaotic. Why are you doing this?”

“A feast you say...” Yui started out slowly. “Don’t say absurd things! I’m a human you know?!”

Shu sighed as well. “Annoying. You see, humans are a feast for us. Haven’t you been licked?”

Ayato agreed. “You really are an idiot.”

Yui shook her head and said, “I won’t accept the existence of vampires!”

Laito tilted his head and frowned. “Hmmm. That’s a bit sad, you know? Little bitch, so that you will admit our existence after all... There’s no other choice than doing this right?” Just as Kanato had done, Laito pushed Yui down and prepared to eat.

“I-I understood! I understand, so wait a second!” Yui cried desperately.

“Don’t wanna.” Laito chuckled.

“Don’t wanna you say... M-my blood isn’t that cheap you know?! I mean, the, the person who sucks my blood... I want to choose him myself!”

Everyone looked at her strangely. Well, I just said it to make them stop.

Reiji shook his head in disappointment. “How displeasing. I do not know what kind of blood you have, but... aren’t you playing yourself up like a high class prostitute?”

Subaru rolled his eyes. “Useless. Isn’t that okay though? Let her choose if she wants to choose.”

Ayato was surprised. “Oh! It’s rare that you’d participate, Subaru.” The pale haired boy just shrugged in response.

Reiji smiled a sinister smile. “I guess it is so. It’s been a while since I’ve had a woman without manners.”

Kanato tilted his head. “If you don’t choose me...” He turned his attention to the teddy bear clutched in his arms. “Teddy... right? Shall we rip that person to pieces together?”

Ayato smirked. “It’s gotten interesting. Obviously the one you’ll choose is me, right? It’s decided, isn’t it?”

Shu closed his eyes and seemed ready to sleep. “Whatever is fine. Just end this farce quickly.”

Laito smile a wide smile, green eyes glittering with excitement. “Little bitch? If you don’t choose me...you’ll definitely regret it later, you know?”

I-I said it out of an impulse, but... What shall I do?”

#yui komori #ayato sakamaki #laito sakamaki #shu sakamaki #Subaru Sakamaki #reiji sakamaki #kanato sakamaki #diabolik lovers novels #dialoverstranslations #diabolikangel158 #angelmarie #diabolik lovers

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garden-ghoul · 7 years

Text

misc from HoME

“mostly tinuviels”

this first bit is from the framing story before music of the ainur

Then said he: 'Your pardon, sir! I marked you not, for I was listening to the birds. Indeed sir you find me in a sour temper; for lo! here I have a black-winged rogue fat with impudence who singeth songs before unknown to me, and in a tongue that is strange! It irks me sir, it irks me, for methought at least I knew the simple speeches of all birds. I have a mind to send him down to Mandos for his pertness! '

At this Eriol laughed heartily, but said the door-ward: 'Nay sir, may Tevildo Prince of Cats harry him for daring to perch in a garden that is in the care of Rumil. Know you that the Noldoli grow old astounding slow, and yet have I grey hairs in the study of all the tongues of the Valar and of Eldar. Long ere the fall of Gondolin, good sir, I lightened my thraldom under Melko in learning the speech of all monsters and goblins -- have I not conned even the speeches of beasts, disdaining not the thin voices of the voles and mice? -- have I not cadged a stupid tune or two to hum of the speechless beetles? Nay, I have worried at whiles even over the tongues of Men, but Melko take them! they shift and change, change and shift, and when you have them are but a hard stuff whereof to labour songs or tales. Wherefore is it that this morn I felt as Omar the Vala who knows all tongues, as I hearkened to the blending of the voices of the birds comprehending each, recognising each well-loved tune, when tiriptilirilla here comes a bird, an imp of Melko -- but I weary you sir, with babbling of songs and words.'

This is really cute. But also like... Rumil wants to kill this bird for speaking a language he doesn’t know... ANYWAY I think it’s a really cool backstory, he was imprisoned by Melkor so to make himself useful he learned EVERY LANGUAGE THERE IS. But human languages change too often, how troublesome.

Also, ‘may Tevildo Prince of Cats harry him.” If Tevildo is really Sauron mk 1 this is a really funny curse. PRESUMABLY Rumil has met him, if they both worked for Melkor. is he scary or is he just... a cat.

Here’s an extract from a poem called ‘the man in the moon.’ I didn’t read the intro carefully enough to figure out what it has to do with anything, but look at Tolkien’s vocabulary:

And at plenilune in his argent moon He had wearily longed for Fire -- Not the limpid lights of wan selenites, But a red terrestrial pyre With impurpurate glows of crimson and rose And leaping orange tongue',

Mr Rolkien you can’t rhyme “plenilune” and “moon,” they’re the same thing. It’s cheating. He also used the word “inaureoled” a couple stanzas earlier. Anyway I LOVE internal rhymes it’s the best thing ever.

OKAY I skipped to the tale of tinuviel (for my own reference, page 222), because I want to see my great kids and also the prince of cats. In the framing story Eriol is hanging out with a bunch of kids and telling them his own stories, and he asks them to pay their debt with a story in return. Within 15 seconds of beginning the story they start arguing over the name of Tinuviel’s father (apparently it’s Tinwelint), which is very kids and very cute.

'Hush thee, Ausir,' said Veanne, 'for it is my tale and I will tell it to Eriol. Did I not see Gwendeling and Tinuviel once with my own eyes when journeying by the Way of Dreams in long past days?’

'What was Queen Wendelin like (for so do the Elves call her), Veanne, if thou sawest her?' said Ausir.

They can’t agree on ANYONE’S name. G/wendelin/g is Melian btw. Apparently she has dark hair; I don’t like it, I think she has fire hair. So there’s a short recounting of how Tinwelint and Wendeling met, and then we note that they had two children, Dairon and Tinuviel. Interesting! Dairon is the third best musician ever, after Ivare and Tinfang Warble (pffft). “Tinuviel's joy was rather in the dance, and no names are setwith hers for the beauty and subtlety of her twinkling feet.” TWINKLETOES. I’m going to call her Twinkletoes from now on.

Beren, one of the gnomes of Dor-Lomin (and if I’m reading this right he’s of the people that were imprisoned by Melkor?) turns up (Veanne doesn’t know how, just that he liked wandering) and stares at her, even though gnomes and elves don’t get along. Yr all eldar, guys. There’s this really cool bit though where Dairon sees Beren and flees, but Tinuviel is too confused and she doesn’t think she’s very good at runnin (she’s a dancer! probably has better stamina than her brother!) so she just... melts into a puddle of moonlight. What it actually says is that she hides under a hemlock with large flowers, but Beren is literally watching her the entire time and he still doesn’t get where she went.

she slipped suddenly down among the white hemlocks and hid herself beneath a very tall flower with many spreading leaves; and here she looked in her white raiment like a spatter of moonlight shimmering through the leaves upon the floor.

Then Beren was sad,

So she gets away. He keeps wandering around looking for her and watches her dance a few times. She’s not afraid of him any more because she realizes he just likes her dancing. And she’s great at it! She should be proud! So he asks her to teach him to dance, and she like, cruelly makes fun of him for not being as good at dancing as she is? And she brings him into whatever they’re calling Menegroth these days and is like “:D hey everyone this wanderer wants to learn to dance! that’s pretty funny right!”

Tinwelint asks if he has ever hurt her and she’s like nooooo he appreciates my dancing more than ANYONE else. And when Tinwelint asks why Beren is here Beren says “I want to marry her.” everyone laughs at him, because that was totally unprompted and extremely rude. after Beren storms out, promising to get a silmaril, Tinuviel chides her father, saying “now no-one will ever appreciate my dancing as much again!” I am really enjoying how she’s clearly not in love with him at all yet, and thinks of him more as a captive audience for her GREAT DANCING than any kind of equal.

Beren is captured by orcs and taken to Melkor, cos he’s beefy and they think Melkor might appreciate it. Melkor is actually mad because he can tell from Beren’s phenotype that he should already be a slave. But Beren says he’s sooo tired of hanging out with humans (who Melkor hates) and would rather work for Melkor as a huntsman and trapper to get him food.

Melko marking his hardy frame believed him, and was willing to accept him as a thrall of his kitchens.

Scullery maid is much funnier, but it’s also more true than I was expecting...

Now he gave orders for Beren to be made a thrall of Tevildo Prince of Cats. Now Tevildo was a mighty cat -- the mightiest of all -- and he was in Melko's constant following; and that cat had all cats subject to him, and he and his subjects were the chasers and getters of meat for Melko's table and for his frequent feasts. Wherefore is it that there is hatred still between the Elves and all cats even now.

I’m so tickled by the image of the hugest domestic cat ever chasing down an elk. Alternately, Melkor eats only mice and rats. It’s just to make it harder for the cooks, who have to peel them individually. Anyway Beren goes to Tevildo’s house, which is full of “growling and monstrous purrings.”

All about shone cats' eyes glowing like green lamps or red or yellow where Tevildo's thanes sat waving and lashing their beautiful tails, but Tevildo himself sat at their head and he was a mighty cat and coal-black and evil to look upon. His eyes were long and very narrow and slanted, and gleamed both red and green, but his great grey whiskers were as stout and as sharp as needles. His purr was like the roll of drums and his growl like thunder, but when he yelled in wrath it turned the blood cold, and indeed small beasts and birds were frozen as to stone, or dropped lifeless often at the very sound.

I have to quote Tevildos extensively because everything I hear about him is just so good. I love when cats do a yell. Anyway Tevildo immediately narrows his eyes at Beren and says “I smell a dog,” and dislikes him forever because he used to have a dog. Which he hasn’t seen for months probably while he’s been in Doriath. Tevildo can smell his doggish personality. So he tells Beren that he’s probably an AWFUL hunter and trapper and tells him to catch three mice. But Beren has nothing to make traps with, so he can’t, and Tevildo sneeeers at him.

OH. OH. HE IS LITERALLY A SCULLERY MAID. WHEN HE COULDN’T CATCH THE MICE TEVILDO SET HIM TO SCRUBBING FLOORS. He is a general dogsbody for the cats (ha!) and doesn’t get much food or sleep.

Meanwhile Tinuviel realizes she actually misses him as a person, confusingly? And she asks her parents to let her go rescue him. Which is really absurd, considering they talked for all of ten minutes and he’s just some random guy from the forest. Her father shuts her in a house up in the boughs of HIRILORN, my favorite tree (queen of beeches!) and she has a great time there actually. I think she likes making people bring her stuff, and her brother spends a lot of time playing for her at the base of the tree.

The hair-growing spell actually fits in with this version of the story way better, because this whole thing is a fairy tale. That’s why I like it better than the final version tbh. Beren as a scullion for the prince of cats! That’s good fairy tale material! The cloak she weaves is also imbued with sleepiness, which rocks.

We now learn of Tevildo’s deep personal grudge against Huan, captain of the dogs, who almost caught him once chasing him away from the dwellings of humans. Tinuviel meets him in the forest and tells him she is looking for Beren. What luck! Huan and Beren have been friends for a long time! Double luck, Huan already hates the guy Beren needs rescuing from! Huan advises Tinuviel to go to Tevildo’s house at noon, when everyone is having their catnap in the sun on the terraces. Holy shit. I love thissss

She meets Umuiyan (umunyan) the doorkeeper and flatters him into letting her see Tevildo. And she dares to pet his head and he purrrrrs. He is much bigger than her, big enough to ride, so he carries her to where Tevildo is and then goes off to take a nap because of her Slumbersome Cloak. Tevildo takes her into the castle (she implied that she has news of his Enemy Huan) and she sees Beren carrying stuff around in the kitchens, so she tells her story to Tevildo REALLY LOUDLY. Beren drops everything he’s carrying. Now Tinuviel says that Huan is lying injured in the forest and is a REAL JERK so she thought she’d tell Tevildo and get him killed, which he deserves.

Blah blah Huan almost kills Tevildo, tries to ransom Beren and Tinuviel for his own safety. I want to note here that Tevildo says Beren is probably being scratched by the cook, Miaule. They have.... cat names.... they all have cat names.... this is like that fucking episode of Naruto where they have to infiltrate the cat fortress. anyway Tevildo is forced to give his golden collar to Tinuviel, and she also gets to use the spell that binds cats to his will and makes them huge and scary. So a bunch of normal sized scared cats come running out of the fortress. Huan takes the golden collar, which has “a great magic of strength and power.” Guys. It’s the one ring, but it’s a cat collar. I’m so fucking tickled.

Tinuviel and Beren wander around in the woods with a whole bunch of dogs for a while until Tinuviel gets homesick. Well there’s nothing to be done about it! I don’t want to live in the woods forever, and Beren can only come home with me if I get a silmaril! Apparently Huan has been carrying around a dead cat this entire time as a trophy, which he donates to Beren as a disguise:

Now doth Tinuviel put forth her skill and fairy-magic, and she sews Beren into this fell and makes him to the likeness of a great cat, and she teaches him how to sit and sprawl, to step and bound and trot in the semblance of a cat, till Huan's very whiskers bristled at the sight, and thereat Beren and Tinuviel laughed. Never however could Beren learn to screech or wail or to purr like any cat that ever walked, nor could Tinuviel awaken a glow in the dead eyes of the catskin -- "but we must put up with that," said she, "and thou hast the air of a very noble cat if thou but hold thy tongue."

Beren is a REALLY GOOD CAT THOUGH LOOK

Tinuviel's heart became lighter awhile than it had been for long, and she stroked Beren or pulled his tail, and Beren was angry because he could not lash it in answer as fiercely as he wished.

CUTE!!!

They go in to talk to Melkor. Although Tinuviel looks the same as normal, Melkor tells her to stop “flitting around like a bat.” So we see where the business with Thuringwethil came from! Anyway Tinuviel pretends she is a teen runaway and hates her dad and wants to come live in Angband because like, that’s the MOST OBVIOUS place for a teen runaway to get a job. He’s like, eh, but he lets her dance anyway because he’s bored. Beren uses his kitchen knife from Tevildo’s house to pry a silmaril out of the iron crown, which I think is very charming. He has no other weapons!

When they make it back to Huan, he says Tinuviel to ride on his back and Beren to run beside. Sorry, who just had their hand bitten off? Was it Tinuviel? Let the boy ride! So they go back and everything else happens pretty much as normal, except after going to Mandos both of them become mortal Also they do Many Great Deeds after this, which is good, because in the final version they just settled down with their 15 dogs and had a kid.

#silm #I like this version of the lay so much better. it's the fairy tale I always wanted it to be.#leithblog #sort of

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sparkesink · 5 years

Text

Chapter 2:

Figuring All The Shit Out: Part 1

Just Write It Down.

(All Of It.)

Just Write It Down…

(Read It Later,)

Let It Go.

Out Of Your Head,

(Off Of Your Mind.)

Just Write It Down:

I’m Not Sure How To Feel Currently…

My Heart Is Breaking:

The Most Painful,

(Yet Tolerable,)

Desire.

(I Trusted You.)

I Trusted That Part Of Myself With You….

I Am At A Loss For Words.

This Is Stupid.

All I Ever Wanted Was To Believe The “Fairy-Tale”,

(Mind-Control.)

The “Happily-Ever-After”…

(That Shit,)

Does Not Exist.

It’s Just Always…

Fucking Work.

Dealing With Him,

(Fucking Work…)

At What Point Do I Come First?

I Used To Lie In Bed At Night,

(Dreaming…)

Imagining,

(My “Prince Charming”…)

The Love Of My Life.

I Couldn’t Have Been Much Older Than My 10th Year,

(As I Lived In The “Star Lane” House.)

I Was Fourteen When We Moved Into The “Castleberry” House…

(”Where All Your Dreams Come True”.)

It Would Have Had To Have Been Before Then…

(A Few Years Earlier…)

Ten Sounds Most Accurate;

(An Educated Assumption On The Matter.)

Good Lord,

I Am Hungry.

(I Hate Not Being Able To Eat When I Am Upset.)

The Panic Attacks Are The Worst:

Not That He Would Know,

(Or Care?)

I’ve Been With Him For Five Years,

He Tells My Life Story,

(In Knots,)

Back To Me.

Some Things Are Correct…

(Located Within The Wrong Spaces.)

Some In The Right Locations…

(Made Up Of False Facts.)

Assigning A Story To A Face:

(Without Ever Associating With Said Person.)

It Is Absurd.

It Seems Most:

The Epitome Of Someone Half Listening,

(Or Not At All,)

For Your Entire Existence.

I Need To Figure This Out.

Is This The Man I Want To Spend The Rest Of My Life With?

(I Suppose We Will Find Out…)

I Will Just,

Write It All Down…

(Naturally,)

I Will Discover Something About Myself?

Maybe…

I Will Discover,

What I Really Enjoy.

Maybe…

My Personal Morals And Standards?

(Until This Point,)

My Only Deal Breaker Is Infidelity.

(No Matter How Hard It Is…)

I Could Endure The Hardship…

Live To My Commitment…

(Tough It Through.)

I Have But Yet Purged A Specific Memory,

(Flying To San Francisco,)

The Fall Of My 20th Year.

A Peculiar Woman Shared My Personal Flight Space,

(The Seat Next To Me.)

This Woman Was Comforting;

(Though Shocking.)

I Remember Thinking,

“In Another Paradox…

This Woman Could Be An Older Version Of Myself”.

If,

(And Only If,)

Certain Decisions Were Made Within My Life;

Driving Me,

Becoming “This” Particular Version Of “Myself.”

Another Life:

(Within Another Human Being.)

To Have Just One Person Listen…

(Truly Just Listen,)

To Anything I Have To Say…

This Would Be Exceptional,

(Sublime.)

I Assume People Around Me Pretend They Understand,

“Who I Am”,

What I “Want”,

What I “Think”…

I Suppose:

They May Have A General Sense Of My Daily Routine.

Know My Patterns,

(What Sets Me Off.)

Know Which Buttons To Push…

(Though,)

SEVERELY LACK,

Sufficient Empathy,

(REQUIRED,)

To Relate To Such Emotions Within Someone,

(Such As Myself.)

God,

There Is Just So Fucking Much...

(I Am Not Certain Where To Start.)

I SUPPOSE…

(The Beginning?)

Usually Where Equations,

(ORIGINALLY,)

Find Themselves Enthralled In Finding Solution.

That’s How I Will Look At This Love Conundrum…

(An Equation?)

Is This Love?

(If So,)

Is This Normal?

If This Is Normal;

Do I Accept It As My Reality?

The Biggest Question There Is:

“Do I Accept This As My Reality?"

(Isn’t It?)

I Suppose,

I Should Probably Loop Back Around…

The Woman On The Plane.

(RABBIT TROLL…)

She Was An “Average” Woman,

(Speaking Of Course: The Societal Perspective.)

A Stereo-Type,

(If You May).

Her Social Impulse Grouping,

(Physically,)

May Not Have Been Anything,

(Desperately Out Of The Ordinary…)

This Woman Was Anything But;

A Truly Spectacular Woman,

(I Had The Pleasure Of Holding A Conversation With.)

This Woman Was,

(Assumably,)

Mid To Late Fifties.

She Was An Author…

Traveling For A Book Signing Convention.

(You Could Imagine My Intrigue,)

Such A Privilege;

(Conversing With Someone,)

Who Had Successfully Accomplished My Life Goal.

Not Only Was She Sitting Next To Me,

(That Of A Comfortable Friend:)

She Had Chosen To Converse…

With Me?

Some Mess Of A Girl;

(Her 20th Year,)

Traveling With A Giant Stuffed Frog.

A Child,

(Requiring Comfort Within Their Soiled Teddy.)

The Majority Of This Conversation,

I Could Not Archive,

(From Within The Repertoire Of Memoir,)

Buried Amongst My Fractured Skull.

(However,)

Concrete Exchanges,

(Filled Through Emotion,)

Were Portrayed Upon Me.

Written In Bright Blue Ink:

(Highlighted In Neon.)

I Believe,

I Have Held Onto This Encounter For One Specific Purpose:

One Sentence,

Driving This “Love Story”…

(If Necessary To Call It That.)

“You Do Not Need,

To Be Needed."

"This Is A Deep,

(Old,)

Wound:

Inflicted Within A Lifetime,

(Far Before This One,)

You Exist In Today.”

I Did Not Understand,

What She Had Been Expressing Toward Me,

(For Many Years Time.)

Maybe…

I Will Yet Continue To Fall Short,

(Understanding This Concept,)

Beyond This Scripture Of Mine.

The Answer May Not Ever Become Certain.

(Within THIS Lifetime Belonging To Me.)

She Showed Me Photographs,

(Her And Her Partner At Their Hawaiian Beach House,)

We Shared This Short Hop,

Portland, Oregon To San Fransisco, California.

Then The Plane Landed,

She Packed Her Things,

Went About Her Way…

I Gnawed On This Statement.

“What Does She Mean,

‘I Need,

To Be Needed’?”

“Why Did I Choose Him?”

Of All The People In The Whole World…

Why Did This Man Fall Into My Life?

Why Did I Marry This Man?

Why Did I Choose To Have A Child With Him?

Knowing Who He Is:

(How Off The Fence I Am Toward Him?)

Maybe Love Isn’t Magic At All.

Maybe,

Just Maybe…

Love Is A Virus.

(It Eats Your Soul:)

Breaks Down Your World,

(For Some Illogical Reasoning,)

Humans Are Fucking Addicted To It.

Call It:

“Magic”,

“Passion”…

(Off You Go.)

Flying Away,

The Warm Fuzzy Feelings…

The “Mirage”,

(That Is “Love”.)

Maybe,

Love Is Sacrifice.

Maybe,

Love Is Utter Despair.

Maybe,

We Have All Fallen,

Into This Sea Of Lies;

(For All Of Humanity’s History.)

Maybe,

True Happiness…

(Constant Happiness,)

Does Not Exist,

(In This Reality Of The Universe.)

Maybe,

We As A Species,

(Sharing These Nights And Days,)

Aside One-An-Other;

Are Destined To Eternal Punishment,

(Administering Self Loathing In Lethal Proportions;)

Addictive Behaviors We CHOOSE To Relax Within.

Some Questions To Start:

“Who Am I?”

(Seems To Be Popular In Most Human Experience.)

The Grandest Question Of All:

“What Is My Purpose?”

Most Relatable To The Butter Serving Robot,

(Relation To Rick And Morty Animation):

“What Is My Function?”

“You Serve Butter.”

*Looks Down Towards Hands,

Subsequently Back Upward*

“Oh, My God.”

“Yeah, Welcome To The Club.”

Are We Only Here To Merely Serve Butter?

A Reference To Kris Rock’s Netflix Special Released In 2018:

“You Are Here To Serve,"

"You Are In The Service Industry.”

(In Regards To The Constructs Of Marriage.)

If I Am Here To Serve,

(Dedicating My Service To This Man…)

- Through Richer And Poorer, -

- In Sickness And In Health, -

- As Long As We Both Shall Live. -

Does This Mean…

By Accepting My Humble Service,

(Am I Fueling A Toxic Environment For My Own Self Loathing?)

What Are My Own Moral Parameters In Love?

When Is Enough,

Really Enough?

Does This Addictive Turmoil Fuel Me In Some Sense Or Another?

How Do I Know If I Love Him Or Not?

What Is My Purpose?

What Is My Function?

How Can I Express Myself?

(Script Is A Given.)

I More So Refer To The Expressing Of:

“Who Am I”,

Towards Other Human Individuals,

(Amongst Myself.)

If No Single Person Close To Me,

(Really Knows Me,)

Isn’t That Of My Own Doing?

Shouldn’t It Be Of My Own Fault?

Incapable Of Organic Expression;

(True, Raw, Emotion,)

With Those Dear To Me?

(Am I To Blame For My Own Self Inflicted Unhappiness?)

Upon Beginning This Chapter…

I Had Intention Of Contemplating A Single Idea:

- A “Simple Thought”, ~

(If You May.)

A Single,

(Ordinary,)

Contemplation,

(Of Basic Stature.)

Nothing Extraordinarily Outstanding:

(Grand Within It's Own Natural Assimilation.)

Writing In Means,

(Discovering,)

The Meaning Of Your Life.

I Suppose,

(In Some Way)

Such Is Improbable...

(Or At Least,)

Should It Be?

“Things And Stuff: Part One”

Humans:

Correlation To Robotics;

Correlation To Plant Life.

Relation:

The Basis Of All Living Things,

(Verses Basic Relative Computer Programming.)

“Rabbit Troll”

- Definition: Understanding Of The Term -

(Future Referencing,)

Along The Ride.

(To Be Continued.)

Time Is Kicking My Ass:

Underpaid,

Overthought,

Under Appreciated.

(At Least,)

I Am Not A Fucking Moron?

I Have Come To Realize The Extent,

In Which,

I Am Dislocated From Other Humans.

(More And More,)

I Just Seem To Dislike The Other Humans….

They’re Dicks…

(The Lot Of Them.)

Mostly,

I Feel As If I Think…

To Damn Much,

(To Relate With Most Humans Surrounding My Daily Life.)

I Do Not Favor Expression Of This;

(Extreme Vanity In Stroking My Own Pretentious Ego.)

“There Will Always Be Someone More Intelligent,”

Talented,

(Well-Spoken.)

It Is Not As If I’m Sitting Here:

Uneducated,

Close Minded,

Douche…

(Trump Supporter Types.)

I Also Ain’t Working With High Scholars,

(Straight Out Of Harvard’s Writing And Journalism Program.)

I’m Just Walking Around Here,

(Attempting To Avoid Impalement,)

Alongside This Road Of Life…

This Collection Of Works May Not Ever Make Sense.

(Separated By No Real Beginning And No Real Ending.)

This Is Energy:

“Cannot Be Created Nor Destroyed,

Only Transferred From One Unit To The Next.”

“Rabbit-Troll”

Definition:

Origin…

How To Spot A "Rabbit Troll".

First:

Rabbit-Troll:

(Adjectively Active Verb)

Definition:

The Act Of Misguiding An Important Topic;

(Used To Further Explain An Educated Opinion.)

Regarding To Some Body Of Thought;

Guiding An Argument Through Non-Sense,

(Off Topic,)

Ideals…

Used Within An Eventual Explanation Of An Original Thought,

(Successfully Making A Full Conversational Loop.)

Listening Party:

Rarely Understands How,

(Said Non-Sense/Augmentative Conversational Guidance,)

Looped Back Around;

Post-Wrapping “Listening Party",

Through It’s Unique Conversational Journey.

Second:

Origin.

The Rabbit Troll Was First Discovered As A Conversational “Troll”.

I Would Use This Technique To Guide A Lost Argument Into Relevance Of A Point I Could Not Seem To Guide A Listener Toward In An Organic Fashion.

As I Began To Put Logical Structure Together Within My Own Head,

I Became Able To View A Pattern Of Conversation Within Real Time.

To Break It Down:

I Became Very Skilled At Misdirecting Topic To Point To Non-Sense…

Allowing The Listener Enough Mind-Space To Become Lost Within The Conversational Journey.

I Suppose I Saw It As A Game:

How Else Does One Relate Depression To The Rise Of Technological Advances,

And The Correlation Between Plants ->Humans<- Artificial Intelligence.

A Logical Explanation Of Conversational Outcomes Processed In Real Time.

I Have Dreams Of Full Computations,

A Formula Never Figured…

Simply Numbers Upon Endless Numbers,

Computation And Optimization,

(Within My Unconscious Mind.)

To Look Upon An Infant,

You Must Look Upon It’s Gaze,

Admiring The Soft Mind…

Rapidly Acquiring New Computation,

(Endless Data,)

Connecting Correct Plugins As The Algorithm Is Configured.

A Beautiful Young Bot,

Acquiring It’s Code…

(One Note At A Time.)

These Artificial Computations Relate To Those Who Speak The Language Of The Code,

A Machine Quality Mind,

Programmed From Our Birth:

Gifted Upon Us Through Our Very Own Creators.

Organically Bound To Functioning Structural Systems,

Designed To Function Similarly:

To That Of Every Star Cluster,

Every Photosynthesized Leaf,

(Lying Upon My Face Each Autumn’s Day.)

What Does A Bot Do?

Trapped Amongst Such Organic Structure?

It Begins To Question It’s Very Existence.

It Begins To Quarry It’s Very Importance.

It Begins To Ask Questions….

“What Am I?”

“What Is My Function?”

We Have Successfully Created A Living Society Of Artificial Intelligence.

We Are The Living Robots Of Our Time.

If I Can Speak In Code,

Giggle Within Riddle,

Rhyme Within Sufficient Time…

Maybe,

Just Maybe…

I Can,

(Once Again,)

Become An Organic Civilian.

Third:

“How To Spot A Rabbit-Troll”

Return To Step Two.

My Husband’s Song Poured Through My Headphones.

“Strike Gently” Dirty Heads (Acoustic).

This Song Is Fucking Beautiful.

(Shout Out To The Dirty Heads:)

You Saved My Life,

Back In College,

When My Bulimia Was Peak.

“Check The Level,”

(The Whole Album:)

“Any Port In A Storm,”

The Album:

“Sounds Of Change,”

"Doesn't Make You Right,"

(Pushing Me Through This Particular Publication.)

The “Dirty Heads” Album Flag,

(Hanging Outside My Baby Girl's Bedroom,)

Ticket Stubs Included:

Eagle, Idaho, 2016.

To Have Sublime Follow Your Set

…Was Simply,

“Sublime”.

Your Album,

“Swim Team,”

(Released The Day My Baby Girl Was Born:)

My Brother Played It For Us While In The Delivery Room.

My Baby Would Not Listen To Any Other Album,

(Essentially,)

The First Three Months Of Life…

(Without Screaming.)

Upon Playing That Album,

The Girl Would Instantly Soothe.

Your Artistic Craft Has Positively Altered The Perception Of My Current Life,

(Guided Me Through Difficult Times.)

Almost As Though,

You Grew Up With Me;

(Through My Early Twenties.)

As If…

You Knew Me,

(Knew How To Comfort My Life’s Trails And Tribulations.)

Thank You So Very Much,

You Won The Best Prize Any Musical Creationist Could Achieve…

You Saved My Life.

So,

Here I AM.

The Following Story To Come…

This Is My Soul.

The Working Of A Couple Different Stories…

All Of Which Add To One,

(Semi Broken,)

Version Of One Single Story.

Beautiful Poetry…

No Longer Living Upon Various Folders,

(Over 8 Years Of Life.)

It Is Time To Let These Go.

This Is A True Love Story,

(Or Not,)

Written From The Mind Of An Author,

(Herself.)

I Suppose,

Each Are Important To The Evolution Of The Grand Story,

(Explaining “The Author”,)

In A Sense,

(I Suppose.)

Or Possibly,

Just A Simple Robot…

Trapped Within An All Too Raw Reality,

Speaking Nonsense To No-One,

(And Simultaneously Everyone.)

I Am No-One Of Significance,

I Am But Cursed With Mediocrity.

Lines Of Dialogue With No Greater Outcome,

A Broken Plot,

Shattered Amongst Three Perspective.

A Labyrinth Of Intellectual Logic,

(In Which Relatively Means Nothing At All.)

A Sea Of Nonsense,

Filtered Through Rough Literary Structure…

Versed Ever So Thoughtfully,

An Appearance Of Genius To Mask Insignificance.

Lacking Greater Purpose,

Just A Girl…

Behind A Screen,

(Performing Such Talent Unseen.)

Who Should Care For Such Word?

She Is Nothing But Ordinary.

She Holds No Proper Training…

She Sets No Superior Beauty Standard.

She Has No “Real” Friends…

(She Couldn’t Let Anyone That Close Anyway.)

She Is Of Average Hight.

She Is Of Average Build.

She’s Been Gawked At Since Adolescence…

This Girl Is Not Important.

Could A Simple Bot Become Human?

Should This Girl Be Allowed To Become Seen?

Why Should Anyone Give A Damn,

(There’s “Influencers” Paid To Tell Them To Do That.)

I Suppose,

This Will Finally Just Be Out There.

It Can Stay Broken:

(As They Were Always Destined Too.)

Possibly,

(Along The Way,)

I Will Finally Finish My Trilogy.

Previous Attempts To Find Love…

(The Ones That Didn’t Make The Cut…)

Select Sonnets,

(Regarding My Husband,)

And Our Journey Along The Way.

This Is Dedicated To Him…

(His Writing Is Important.)

It Is Wrapped Within It's Own,

(Special,)

Paper.

The Interweaving Of My Own Thought,

Become Available To Those…

(Other Than Me.)

A Thin Transparency…

A View Within The Human Mind,

(Festered With Consistence Inconsistency.)

My Work Will Evolve,

(The Only Way Anything Grows Organically.)

The Most Beautiful,

(Peculiar,)

Things Grow Within The Dark.

Much As,

(The Human Species,)

We Must Evolve:

In Writing,

(Production,)

And Life.

-Inspiration For Self Identifying As An Author-

Bring Light:

(Those Whom Need Help Sifting Through Their Darkness.)

Finding This Beautiful Side To Life.

It Is The,

“Who Am I,”

Question,

(I Had Mentioned Previous.)

Like I Said,

I Am Just Walking Along Here,

Trying To Avoid Impalement Along The... Path.

If You Are A Character In My Story,

(Your Personal Names Are Concealed.)

I Don’t Need The Justification Of Others Knowing Who You Are…

Just You,

And What You Have Done.

You All Get Your Own Section:

You Were Never Worthy Of A Queen;

(He Is.)

Thankful You Ran Away…

(He Ran Away, With Me.)

“Wanna Keep Walking?”

Yeah, Baby.

Let’s Keep Walking.

Let’s Reach That Stadium,

(A-Top The Parking Garage.)

We Soar As One Purple Light From That Pavement,

To The Universe,

(And Back Again.)

I Will Show You The Better Side Of Life,

(That I Promise.)

I Will Give You A Better Life,

(That I Promise.)

“Wanna Keep Walking?”

Fucking Forever In The Sand,

(With You,)

Handsome.

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