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I am obsessed with the song "Viva Discordia" by That Handsome Devil. It is so freaking catchy oh my god. Kind of ridiculous. Doing pretty well overall, really glad that this week is almost over. Mostly updates!post and some writing things. November is coming, did you bring your coat? More on NaNoWriMo as it gets closer. Though "closer" will be pretty soon. Also Wheel of Time in a few dayssss!
I'm a bit excitable now. ...and GOD THIS SONG. It's weird but I can't stop listening o.o
In other news, look what came in the mail today!
Full text, right there. And it's a good point. >.> Though I am a little edified by the confirmed lack of really good English. And she hasn't mentioned anything about the posting on her journal. But this is basically what I was looking for. And while I can argue my point here, I will probably not and just see what else she has to say. But people were curious, so I thought I'd offer that.
We'll see if more comes of it.
Secondly, I counted and have twenty prompts on the Five Things meme. Writing them in drabbles or sort of, so these will be coming a bit at a time, though I'm hoping to get them all done before too long so I can work on extending those 'one sentence fics I've never written' prompts I want to expand.
FOR THE MOMENT THOUGH.
One. She and Petyr sat very close in the godswood, and Petyr smiled at her and tilted his head in that little fashion that made her think of a mockingbird. “You said you had something to tell me, Petyr?” She was a girl, then, barely a girl, and he was younger, but he had long since abandoned male playmates.
------
One. ::No,:: said Gideon, his tone like a slap. Felix started backward in surprise and couldn’t help himself from staring at his lover, who stood, expression impassive. ::No, Felix.::
“Gideon, why not, it won’t hurt-“
::I am not going to help you smooth things over when your brother is rightfully angry with you. Mildmay and I have no quarrel, and I will not become part of yours.:: Felix looked blankly surprised, as though he had never considered the possibility of a refusal. Just for a moment, satisfaction seemed to flicker on Gideon’s face. ::That is my final word. I cannot help you. Some problems you must solve on your own.::
“I can’t,” Felix said, weakly, and Gideon turned, expression slightly angry, and that Felix could read easily.
::Then you will not. Excuse me.::
Two. “I don’t deserve you,” Felix said, in a small voice, curled up in an armchair and watching Gideon with almost fearful wide eyes. “I don’t deserve what you give me, Gideon.”
::No, probably not. If you do not stop drinking I will throw all your bottles out the window, do you hear me?::
“Why did you come back? Why would you ever come back? You shouldn’t have. I would be fine. You and Simon get along well…”
::Do you want me to leave, Felix?:: There was a touch of peevishness in Gideon’s voice. ::It is not a lightly made decision. If you are so eager to foist me off, though, I would not make myself a bother.::
“No! No, that’s not it,” Felix protested, looking more concerned. “That’s not it at all, it’s only,”
::Shut up, Felix.::
“Only that you could do better than me, and I don’t want to hold you back from – greater things-“
::Felix. I mean it. Shut up.::
“That would be unfair, I couldn’t be unfair to you. Not after – everything.” Gideon’s eyes rolled, and he stood up and quite suddenly kissed Felix, firmly. Felix froze, eyes widening with surprise and then softening with desire.
::There,:: Gideon’s mind-voice said, ::That’s better.::
Three. “Darling,” Felix drawled, lazily, lifting his glass, Gideon did not return the greeting.
::Felix. If I hear anything of you and Isaac Garamond again…can I trust you? You have been nothing but unfaithful.::
“Unfaithful,” Felix said carelessly, “Is all I know how to do. I am a whore.”
::Yes,:: Gideon snapped, ::But you need not act like one. Felix, am I not enough? Am I worth so little to you that you would cast me aside at the first sign of a likely toy?::
“Not cast you aside, darling. Put you on a shelf for a moment, perhaps. By all means, indulge yourself as well. I wouldn’t object.” He sipped the wine, delicately, and must have felt the anger in the room, but ignored it as smoothly as he ignored everything that displeased him.
::I have no desire to. It is you I chose and it is you I would stay with. If you would return the favor.::
“And if I do not?”
Gideon drew himself up. His height was not impressive, but his eyes flashed. ::Then next time you spend the night with that servant of the Bastion, you will return to this suite and find me gone. And I will not return.::
“Darling,” Felix drawled. “Don’t be melodramatic.”
::How I wish you could hear how you sound,:: Gideon said, savagely, and stalked away.
Four. ::You are not Malkar.::
“I don’t know,” said Felix, his face streaked with tears, face pressed to Gideon’s shoulder, his lover stroking his back. “I don’t know. Sometimes I feel it, the potential, there-“
::And you are aware of it. So you can fight it. So you are not him.:: Gideon touched his chin, tilted Felix’s head back. “I won’t lie and say that you have never hurt me. But I do not think that you could ever hurt someone the way he hurt you. And that is what makes you different. You won’t pass on your pain.::
“Don’t I already,” he murmured, looking down again, and Gideon sighed.
::You do,:: he said, tiredly, ::But it doesn’t matter. Not to me.::
“I should just leave,” Felix said, into Gideon’s chest, “Leave, and walk away, or just lie down and-“
::If you ever,:: and now, there was real anger in Gideon’s voice, ::Ever suggest such a thing in my hearing or out of it again, I will gladly slap you silly, Felix. You don’t need self-pity. You’re too intelligent for it.::
He was relieved that Felix didn’t try to answer that.
Five. Felix’s cheeks were too red with drink, his color high and eyes too bright. “Gideon, you know not what you say.”
::I know very well. If you cannot treat Mildmay as he deserves, for all he has given you-::
“Then what? You will leave me? Gideon, you must have threatened that a thousand times. I do not fear it.” He took a few steps nearer, reached out, but Gideon drew back, looking disgusted.
::You are not the man I loved.::
Felix’s hand fell and he stepped back, eyes flashing several different shades for moments, then settling on slightly mad fanaticism. “Where is the man you loved, then? Mad? Dead? I give you everything I have-“
Gideon shook. ::No, Felix. You give me nothing.” He took a step back, slowly, and Felix went rigid. When he spoke, his voice was like poison.
“It is my brother, isn’t it? All along – the both of you, playing this little tryst – that is why you care so much for his well being, why it is such a personal thing for you – you could have said something, Gideon, I would not-“
::Not everything is sex!:: The anger was plainer, then. ::Felix, you will go too far. You will go too far, and you are already nearly there. If you insist on behaving like-::
“Like a whore?”
Gideon drew a breath and he said the words without thinking, with all the venom that had festered with every wound inflicted and every poisoned word. ::Like Malkar,:: and when Felix went very still he knew that he had struck home.
------
One. “Cal…” Niko looked unhappy. That was no good, he didn’t want to make Niko unhappy. The principal looked across the desk at them both, chin folded sternly on her hands, and frowned. Cal ignored her and shuffled his feet. “They said you…bit someone.”
Cal glared, ferociously, at the bookshelf. It would serve for an adequate adversary. “Yeah. I did.”
“You can’t do that,” Niko said, carefully. “It’s not okay.”
“Why not?” Cal challenged, and Niko looked very much like he wanted to hit his head against the wall, which made him feel a little bad. But only a little.
Two. The principal had a large nose. It was a little lumpy, like it’d been made of Silly Putty and someone’d squished it around one day. Cal watched his nose in minor fascination and ignored what he was saying completely. He hadn’t really meant anything he’d said anyway, not really. What did it matter if you didn’t mean it?
The balding man with the lumpy nose leaned over the desk and sighed, shaking his head. “Why can’t you be more like your brother, Caliban?” And he very carefully didn’t answer that question, even if he knew why.
Three. “Caliban, I have had some complaints about your behavior in English…but this is the first time I have felt it necessary to speak to you officially like this. Is it true that you walked out of class on –“ She checked her notes – “Tuesday the 22nd, during the review of Lord of the Flies?”
“Yeah,” Cal said, dryly, slouched in a chair that was quite familiar to him by now, more sullen than angry, hair in his eyes and loose-limbed. “It’s true. I got hungry.”
Four. He was still steamed. It felt like something was boiling under his skin. Stupid kids. None of them knew anything. They could suspend him, expel him, whatever, it didn’t matter. He didn’t feel bad. Not at all. “Caliban, are you aware of Mr. McCall’s injuries?”
“I definitely broke his nose,” he said, standing at the opposite end of the room. God, he hated school principals. They were all the same. Officious, self-important bastards. “He pissed his pants, too. But that’s not really an injury.”
The principal frowned – Ms. McClury or something, what did he care? “He may have a concussion.”
“He’s milking it,” Cal said, offhandedly. “I didn’t hit him that hard.” Of course, if the moron mentioned the rest of it he would be in bigger trouble, and Niko wouldn’t like if he had to go to juvie. The principal stood, looking mildly angry.
“Mr. Leandros, I think you fail to comprehend the severity of your transgression.” Cal looked up at her, coolly, and felt even less remorse.
“No,” he said, “I understand. I understand proper consequences too.” He shrugged one shoulder. “He made fun of my brother. He won’t do it again. That’s all.”
He walked out.
Five. He looked up at the ceiling, contemplating the grain of the wood. It didn’t look like anything, though. It was better than looking at the friendly looking, near-sighted man across the desk from him, leaning forward in a concerned manner. “Caliban, I’m afraid we are very concerned with your erratic attendance record.”
He said nothing, refusing to respond or rise. “We placed you on probation, to no response. I’m afraid we have no choice but to suspend you for four full days and have your mother sign and agreement that we assign you a stricter academic probation.”
Cal looked up, slowly, and was silent. Then he just nodded, slightly. “Yeah. Sure. I’ll get her to sign.”
The principal smiled indulgently. “Thank you, Caliban, I’m glad you understand the priority your education must have. Here’s the form.”
On the way out, he dropped it in the trash and left the school. They’d be leaving New York soon anyway, and he was done with that shit. Completely done with it.
BACK TO WORK *whpcha* Though I warn you in advance some certain ones may be a bit of a long while. >.> I'LL DO MY BEST NOT TO KEEP YOU WAITING ON.
ETA: ONE MORE BEFORE SLEEPINGS.
One. Angrod was in a good mood. Angrod’s good moods were one-thousand times more annoying than Angrod’s bad moods. In fact, Angrod’s good moods were the one thing most likely to put Caranthir in a bad mood within five minutes. If he was generous. Which he wasn’t often in the mood to be.
It was all the enthusiasm! Where did he get it? And it was even worse on days like today, when he’d been yelled at by his brother, his father, and cousin Artanis twice.
Family was so stupid.
He glared at Angrod’s back. “What’s got you so happy?”
“You’re unique, Moryo, in that you need a reason to be happy. Most people just need a reason not to be unhappy.” Caranthir sneered.
“Oh, sure. That’s profound.” Angrod didn’t look up from where he was meticulously doing…something. “What are you making with those flowers anyway?”
“Daisy chain. I lost a bet with my sister so now I have to wear it.”
Disgusting. “Huh. That’s stupid.” Maybe if he could just provoke a brawl. Maybe then his cousin wouldn’t be in such an exasperatingly good mood. Angrod just shrugged, though, and grinned.
“I know you’re jealous, Moryo, I can make one for you too when I’m done. I’ve gotten really good at them. I can probably even teach you now.” Caranthir wanted very much to punch his cousin, for a moment, but Maitimo was watching, so he crossed his arms and looked the other way.
“I don’t want your stupid flowers.”
“Suit yourself,” Angrod said amiably, and didn’t budge. Stupid family. Stupid cousins. Stupid Angrod.
Two. It wasn’t his fault he’d thrown all his crabapples already. But there was Angrod, grinning at him, holding three more, and Caranthir just knew even if it meant getting tackled by Tyelko later Angrod would hit him with all of them, because that was what he always did.
“If you throw those at me,” he warned, seriously, “I will hurt you.” He meant it, too.
Thunk thunk thunk. Right in the forehead. Ears ringing, Caranthir started toward Angrod, furious, who held up his hands. “Surrender, surrender!”
“I warned you!”
“Have to give quarter when I ask!”
Caranthir was stuck on that one. He was even more stuck when Tyelko came over and ruffled his hair, laughing. “You need to keep cover, Moryo.”
He glared at his feet. “I hate you both. Want you to know that.”
“That’s all right,” Angrod said, and grinned. “Rematch?”
Three. “Breathe, Caranthir. You’re going to asphyxiate.”
“I am not going to – whatever you said. I am fine.”
“Yeah, and it’s on your good days you like to throw anvils through windows. Was that an anvil?”
Caranthir’s fists clenched. “No, it wasn’t, and it’s none of your business what it was. I don’t like smithing.”
“I don’t think there’s anyone who doesn’t know that anymore. Could you yell a little louder, though, just in case?”
“I’m going to hit you. Why are you talking to me?”
“I don’t know. I like expending my time on hopeless causes. Why are you talking to me?”
Caranthir was struck dumb, and did not really have a ready answer to that question. He glared at Angrod, as this lack of response was clearly his fault. “—it’s stupid. It’s all stupid.”
“The range of things you could be referring to there is broad enough to make me nervous that your self-awareness has reached new heights.”
Caranthir’s mouth snapped shut like a trap and he turned his back, furiously. “Go and be clever elsewhere. I’m not going to talk to you.”
“We’re running out of anvils. And that’s funny. You are still talking to me.” Caranthir turned, angrily, but Angrod’s expression was so broadly open that he just…couldn’t do anything about it.
Four. “I hate her.” Caranthir paced, back and forth, anxiously, “Can’t you do something about it? It was just a stupid little fight. Not a big deal. Why does she always have to interfere with everything?”
“That’s my sister,” said Angrod, from his post a few feet away, where he was making more of those damn daisy chains. He claimed they kept his hands busy.
“If she would just keep her mouth shut and not get into everyone’s business I wouldn’t have such a problem, but no, it’s always me, too, she doesn’t care if Findekano starts a fight, of course not, everything he does is fine.”
“My favorite sister,” Angrod continued.
“And it’s really creepy, you know, that thing she does with her eyes sometimes, I don’t like it-“
“Yeah,” said Angrod, suddenly, “And your brothers are stupid, self-centered fools who couldn’t do something right to save their own lives.”
“What did you say?”
Angrod poked a daisy calmly through another. “I call point,” he said, coolly, without looking up, and Caranthir hated him very much, just that moment.
Five. He caught up to Angrod several paces away from the council chamber, grabbed his shoulder, turned him around, and punched him as hard as he could, square in the nose. It broke with a very satisfying crack, and a thoroughly surprised Angrod went down with a strangled noise of surprised pain.
“Do you know how long I’ve wanted to do that?”
“I’d guess a very long time,” said his cousin, holding his nose, “Feel better now?”
Caranthir considered that. Frowned. Considered it a while longer. “No. Not really. Want me to fix that?”
“No, thanks. Nice of you to offer, though.” Angrod’s stare was baleful. “If I felt like being as much of an idiot as you and your family are being I’d punch you back. But I don’t think it’d help.” He shoved himself to his feet and turned away.
“Wait,” said Caranthir, irritably, “If you want to-“
“I don’t. It wouldn’t have any point.”
“It’d be fair,” he said, and then felt utterly stupid for voicing that thought at all. The look Angrod gave him clearly agreed.
“I’m not going to respond to that.” He paused. “…you know. I was expecting you to do that a long time ago. Not when I may actually have deserved it.”
Caranthir blinked, bewildered. “…what?”
Angrod reached out, patted his shoulder, and said, “Work on it,” holding his sleeve to his nose. He turned and began to walk away. “Good afternoon, Moryo.” Caranthir stared after him, bewildered, until Angrod glanced over his shoulder and frowned. “I still hate you, you know,” he said, and then turned a side path and was gone. Caranthir tried very hard not to be amused. But it really was awfully hard.
Damn Arafinwëans.
I'm a bit excitable now. ...and GOD THIS SONG. It's weird but I can't stop listening o.o
In other news, look what came in the mail today!
Thank you for your attention!
I think i'll write you some thing soon, but not too soon:
1) I do not have much skill in writing in inglish & in constructive criticism, it's easier to me to say "I like it" or "I don't", "I agree" etc.
2) I have some things to do rather soon, for the beinnig of November.
But ti write something useful, here is the first question:
"The journey back was longer, and harder, than he’d ever imagined it might be. Somewhere, he’d never thought about the way back. Somewhere, he’d assumed they would simply ride in triumphant, heads held high and proud."
But why& The situation ih whole (in Silm) doesn't seem simple and happy, and Fingon, going north, doesn't know, is Maitimo dead or alive, and how he can save him (or avenge him, may be)...
May be *your* Fingon have more reasons for future triumph (vision? prophesy? conclusion?). I'm ready to beleive but I want to know why.
(Well, I want to pose spme other questions, mostly about "In Rooms Unfamiliar But Until Now". I have no question about "Minor Details, Starring Feanorians", I simply like it as "To remember" too...)
Full text, right there. And it's a good point. >.> Though I am a little edified by the confirmed lack of really good English. And she hasn't mentioned anything about the posting on her journal. But this is basically what I was looking for. And while I can argue my point here, I will probably not and just see what else she has to say. But people were curious, so I thought I'd offer that.
We'll see if more comes of it.
Secondly, I counted and have twenty prompts on the Five Things meme. Writing them in drabbles or sort of, so these will be coming a bit at a time, though I'm hoping to get them all done before too long so I can work on extending those 'one sentence fics I've never written' prompts I want to expand.
FOR THE MOMENT THOUGH.
One. She and Petyr sat very close in the godswood, and Petyr smiled at her and tilted his head in that little fashion that made her think of a mockingbird. “You said you had something to tell me, Petyr?” She was a girl, then, barely a girl, and he was younger, but he had long since abandoned male playmates.
“Not really,” he said, with a smile that was just charmingly sheepish, “I just wanted to spend some time alone with you.” He twirled a flower between his fingers, and offered it, awkwardly. “…for you.”
Catelyn took it, surprised, and then smiled, blushing, and leaned over to kiss his cheek. “Petyr! You think of such things…I’ve never known anyone so thoughtful as you.”
Two. She had always expected a betrothal, but was worried anyway. Nasty whispers said that the Starks were all like ice, especially in bed. The kinder ones assured her that the Starks were very noble and upstanding, an old and proud family. What if I am not good enough, she wondered? What if I am not what they expected?
She met
“No wonder you’re keeping her tucked away,” he said, with a bow, “Or anyone could steal her.”
She blushed, and her father frowned, slightly, but for herself, she felt her heart leap. He had a very nice smile.
Three. He’d given her months of discomfort and hours of pain, of agony so that she had nearly expected to die. She hadn’t. And as the midwife bent over her and handed her the babe, still squalling, she took him in her arms with a little bit of dread. So much responsibility, now, for this small and fragile thing-
He did not sound so fragile, though, her firstborn son, bawling and waving his fists, thin patch of red hair already visible on his head, darker for the damp. She brought him to her breast with the help of the midwife and he latched to her hungrily, suckling greedily, warm and soft, and she felt a little weak.
Her son. “Robb,” she whispered, and touched his head, tenderly, “His name is Robb.”
Four. Her husband seemed nervous, and was certainly quieter than
But they rode into Winterfell all the same and it towered into the bright blue sky just as icy as its master, or so it seemed to Catelyn. She pretended to be happy, though, and amazed, or at least tried her best. Her husband was watching her, and she didn’t want to fail in her duty.
He brought her inside and it wasn’t drafty, in fact seemed rather warm, but she didn’t understand until he took her to a room where steam filled the air and sunken bowls of water delved into the floor. She gasped, just a little, and Eddard looked sideways at her.
“I know you must be used to a warmer place…I thought I should show you these first, to help you adjust. They are yours, whenever you want…”
He sounded so anxious, and suddenly she was endeared, and wondered if his quiet was only shyness. She leaned over and kissed his cheek, and her smile this time was genuine, heart warming and unclenching. “It’s perfect,” she said, softly, and reached to take his hand.
Five. Her youngest boy toddled over to her, barely walking at all but grabbing at the air, and she caught him just before he fell forward. “Careful, Rickon,” she said, sternly, lifting him, and he reached for her face, grabbed at her nose.
He was a loud boy, boisterous even more than his older brothers had been, needier, fiercer in his demands for attention. And he seemed slower to learn, as well. She sighed and smoothed his flame red hair back. Though she knew it would darken as he grew to auburn.
Rickon bit her finger, opened his mouth, and said, suddenly, “Mama.”
Even after four children, that particular first word still brought warm tears to her eyes, and the way he nuzzled against her and said it again made everything all right.
One. ::No,:: said Gideon, his tone like a slap. Felix started backward in surprise and couldn’t help himself from staring at his lover, who stood, expression impassive. ::No, Felix.::
“Gideon, why not, it won’t hurt-“
::I am not going to help you smooth things over when your brother is rightfully angry with you. Mildmay and I have no quarrel, and I will not become part of yours.:: Felix looked blankly surprised, as though he had never considered the possibility of a refusal. Just for a moment, satisfaction seemed to flicker on Gideon’s face. ::That is my final word. I cannot help you. Some problems you must solve on your own.::
“I can’t,” Felix said, weakly, and Gideon turned, expression slightly angry, and that Felix could read easily.
::Then you will not. Excuse me.::
Two. “I don’t deserve you,” Felix said, in a small voice, curled up in an armchair and watching Gideon with almost fearful wide eyes. “I don’t deserve what you give me, Gideon.”
::No, probably not. If you do not stop drinking I will throw all your bottles out the window, do you hear me?::
“Why did you come back? Why would you ever come back? You shouldn’t have. I would be fine. You and Simon get along well…”
::Do you want me to leave, Felix?:: There was a touch of peevishness in Gideon’s voice. ::It is not a lightly made decision. If you are so eager to foist me off, though, I would not make myself a bother.::
“No! No, that’s not it,” Felix protested, looking more concerned. “That’s not it at all, it’s only,”
::Shut up, Felix.::
“Only that you could do better than me, and I don’t want to hold you back from – greater things-“
::Felix. I mean it. Shut up.::
“That would be unfair, I couldn’t be unfair to you. Not after – everything.” Gideon’s eyes rolled, and he stood up and quite suddenly kissed Felix, firmly. Felix froze, eyes widening with surprise and then softening with desire.
::There,:: Gideon’s mind-voice said, ::That’s better.::
Three. “Darling,” Felix drawled, lazily, lifting his glass, Gideon did not return the greeting.
::Felix. If I hear anything of you and Isaac Garamond again…can I trust you? You have been nothing but unfaithful.::
“Unfaithful,” Felix said carelessly, “Is all I know how to do. I am a whore.”
::Yes,:: Gideon snapped, ::But you need not act like one. Felix, am I not enough? Am I worth so little to you that you would cast me aside at the first sign of a likely toy?::
“Not cast you aside, darling. Put you on a shelf for a moment, perhaps. By all means, indulge yourself as well. I wouldn’t object.” He sipped the wine, delicately, and must have felt the anger in the room, but ignored it as smoothly as he ignored everything that displeased him.
::I have no desire to. It is you I chose and it is you I would stay with. If you would return the favor.::
“And if I do not?”
Gideon drew himself up. His height was not impressive, but his eyes flashed. ::Then next time you spend the night with that servant of the Bastion, you will return to this suite and find me gone. And I will not return.::
“Darling,” Felix drawled. “Don’t be melodramatic.”
::How I wish you could hear how you sound,:: Gideon said, savagely, and stalked away.
Four. ::You are not Malkar.::
“I don’t know,” said Felix, his face streaked with tears, face pressed to Gideon’s shoulder, his lover stroking his back. “I don’t know. Sometimes I feel it, the potential, there-“
::And you are aware of it. So you can fight it. So you are not him.:: Gideon touched his chin, tilted Felix’s head back. “I won’t lie and say that you have never hurt me. But I do not think that you could ever hurt someone the way he hurt you. And that is what makes you different. You won’t pass on your pain.::
“Don’t I already,” he murmured, looking down again, and Gideon sighed.
::You do,:: he said, tiredly, ::But it doesn’t matter. Not to me.::
“I should just leave,” Felix said, into Gideon’s chest, “Leave, and walk away, or just lie down and-“
::If you ever,:: and now, there was real anger in Gideon’s voice, ::Ever suggest such a thing in my hearing or out of it again, I will gladly slap you silly, Felix. You don’t need self-pity. You’re too intelligent for it.::
He was relieved that Felix didn’t try to answer that.
Five. Felix’s cheeks were too red with drink, his color high and eyes too bright. “Gideon, you know not what you say.”
::I know very well. If you cannot treat Mildmay as he deserves, for all he has given you-::
“Then what? You will leave me? Gideon, you must have threatened that a thousand times. I do not fear it.” He took a few steps nearer, reached out, but Gideon drew back, looking disgusted.
::You are not the man I loved.::
Felix’s hand fell and he stepped back, eyes flashing several different shades for moments, then settling on slightly mad fanaticism. “Where is the man you loved, then? Mad? Dead? I give you everything I have-“
Gideon shook. ::No, Felix. You give me nothing.” He took a step back, slowly, and Felix went rigid. When he spoke, his voice was like poison.
“It is my brother, isn’t it? All along – the both of you, playing this little tryst – that is why you care so much for his well being, why it is such a personal thing for you – you could have said something, Gideon, I would not-“
::Not everything is sex!:: The anger was plainer, then. ::Felix, you will go too far. You will go too far, and you are already nearly there. If you insist on behaving like-::
“Like a whore?”
Gideon drew a breath and he said the words without thinking, with all the venom that had festered with every wound inflicted and every poisoned word. ::Like Malkar,:: and when Felix went very still he knew that he had struck home.
One. “Cal…” Niko looked unhappy. That was no good, he didn’t want to make Niko unhappy. The principal looked across the desk at them both, chin folded sternly on her hands, and frowned. Cal ignored her and shuffled his feet. “They said you…bit someone.”
Cal glared, ferociously, at the bookshelf. It would serve for an adequate adversary. “Yeah. I did.”
“You can’t do that,” Niko said, carefully. “It’s not okay.”
“Why not?” Cal challenged, and Niko looked very much like he wanted to hit his head against the wall, which made him feel a little bad. But only a little.
Two. The principal had a large nose. It was a little lumpy, like it’d been made of Silly Putty and someone’d squished it around one day. Cal watched his nose in minor fascination and ignored what he was saying completely. He hadn’t really meant anything he’d said anyway, not really. What did it matter if you didn’t mean it?
The balding man with the lumpy nose leaned over the desk and sighed, shaking his head. “Why can’t you be more like your brother, Caliban?” And he very carefully didn’t answer that question, even if he knew why.
Three. “Caliban, I have had some complaints about your behavior in English…but this is the first time I have felt it necessary to speak to you officially like this. Is it true that you walked out of class on –“ She checked her notes – “Tuesday the 22nd, during the review of Lord of the Flies?”
“Yeah,” Cal said, dryly, slouched in a chair that was quite familiar to him by now, more sullen than angry, hair in his eyes and loose-limbed. “It’s true. I got hungry.”
Four. He was still steamed. It felt like something was boiling under his skin. Stupid kids. None of them knew anything. They could suspend him, expel him, whatever, it didn’t matter. He didn’t feel bad. Not at all. “Caliban, are you aware of Mr. McCall’s injuries?”
“I definitely broke his nose,” he said, standing at the opposite end of the room. God, he hated school principals. They were all the same. Officious, self-important bastards. “He pissed his pants, too. But that’s not really an injury.”
The principal frowned – Ms. McClury or something, what did he care? “He may have a concussion.”
“He’s milking it,” Cal said, offhandedly. “I didn’t hit him that hard.” Of course, if the moron mentioned the rest of it he would be in bigger trouble, and Niko wouldn’t like if he had to go to juvie. The principal stood, looking mildly angry.
“Mr. Leandros, I think you fail to comprehend the severity of your transgression.” Cal looked up at her, coolly, and felt even less remorse.
“No,” he said, “I understand. I understand proper consequences too.” He shrugged one shoulder. “He made fun of my brother. He won’t do it again. That’s all.”
He walked out.
Five. He looked up at the ceiling, contemplating the grain of the wood. It didn’t look like anything, though. It was better than looking at the friendly looking, near-sighted man across the desk from him, leaning forward in a concerned manner. “Caliban, I’m afraid we are very concerned with your erratic attendance record.”
He said nothing, refusing to respond or rise. “We placed you on probation, to no response. I’m afraid we have no choice but to suspend you for four full days and have your mother sign and agreement that we assign you a stricter academic probation.”
Cal looked up, slowly, and was silent. Then he just nodded, slightly. “Yeah. Sure. I’ll get her to sign.”
The principal smiled indulgently. “Thank you, Caliban, I’m glad you understand the priority your education must have. Here’s the form.”
On the way out, he dropped it in the trash and left the school. They’d be leaving New York soon anyway, and he was done with that shit. Completely done with it.
BACK TO WORK *whpcha* Though I warn you in advance some certain ones may be a bit of a long while. >.> I'LL DO MY BEST NOT TO KEEP YOU WAITING ON.
ETA: ONE MORE BEFORE SLEEPINGS.
One. Angrod was in a good mood. Angrod’s good moods were one-thousand times more annoying than Angrod’s bad moods. In fact, Angrod’s good moods were the one thing most likely to put Caranthir in a bad mood within five minutes. If he was generous. Which he wasn’t often in the mood to be.
It was all the enthusiasm! Where did he get it? And it was even worse on days like today, when he’d been yelled at by his brother, his father, and cousin Artanis twice.
Family was so stupid.
He glared at Angrod’s back. “What’s got you so happy?”
“You’re unique, Moryo, in that you need a reason to be happy. Most people just need a reason not to be unhappy.” Caranthir sneered.
“Oh, sure. That’s profound.” Angrod didn’t look up from where he was meticulously doing…something. “What are you making with those flowers anyway?”
“Daisy chain. I lost a bet with my sister so now I have to wear it.”
Disgusting. “Huh. That’s stupid.” Maybe if he could just provoke a brawl. Maybe then his cousin wouldn’t be in such an exasperatingly good mood. Angrod just shrugged, though, and grinned.
“I know you’re jealous, Moryo, I can make one for you too when I’m done. I’ve gotten really good at them. I can probably even teach you now.” Caranthir wanted very much to punch his cousin, for a moment, but Maitimo was watching, so he crossed his arms and looked the other way.
“I don’t want your stupid flowers.”
“Suit yourself,” Angrod said amiably, and didn’t budge. Stupid family. Stupid cousins. Stupid Angrod.
Two. It wasn’t his fault he’d thrown all his crabapples already. But there was Angrod, grinning at him, holding three more, and Caranthir just knew even if it meant getting tackled by Tyelko later Angrod would hit him with all of them, because that was what he always did.
“If you throw those at me,” he warned, seriously, “I will hurt you.” He meant it, too.
Thunk thunk thunk. Right in the forehead. Ears ringing, Caranthir started toward Angrod, furious, who held up his hands. “Surrender, surrender!”
“I warned you!”
“Have to give quarter when I ask!”
Caranthir was stuck on that one. He was even more stuck when Tyelko came over and ruffled his hair, laughing. “You need to keep cover, Moryo.”
He glared at his feet. “I hate you both. Want you to know that.”
“That’s all right,” Angrod said, and grinned. “Rematch?”
Three. “Breathe, Caranthir. You’re going to asphyxiate.”
“I am not going to – whatever you said. I am fine.”
“Yeah, and it’s on your good days you like to throw anvils through windows. Was that an anvil?”
Caranthir’s fists clenched. “No, it wasn’t, and it’s none of your business what it was. I don’t like smithing.”
“I don’t think there’s anyone who doesn’t know that anymore. Could you yell a little louder, though, just in case?”
“I’m going to hit you. Why are you talking to me?”
“I don’t know. I like expending my time on hopeless causes. Why are you talking to me?”
Caranthir was struck dumb, and did not really have a ready answer to that question. He glared at Angrod, as this lack of response was clearly his fault. “—it’s stupid. It’s all stupid.”
“The range of things you could be referring to there is broad enough to make me nervous that your self-awareness has reached new heights.”
Caranthir’s mouth snapped shut like a trap and he turned his back, furiously. “Go and be clever elsewhere. I’m not going to talk to you.”
“We’re running out of anvils. And that’s funny. You are still talking to me.” Caranthir turned, angrily, but Angrod’s expression was so broadly open that he just…couldn’t do anything about it.
Four. “I hate her.” Caranthir paced, back and forth, anxiously, “Can’t you do something about it? It was just a stupid little fight. Not a big deal. Why does she always have to interfere with everything?”
“That’s my sister,” said Angrod, from his post a few feet away, where he was making more of those damn daisy chains. He claimed they kept his hands busy.
“If she would just keep her mouth shut and not get into everyone’s business I wouldn’t have such a problem, but no, it’s always me, too, she doesn’t care if Findekano starts a fight, of course not, everything he does is fine.”
“My favorite sister,” Angrod continued.
“And it’s really creepy, you know, that thing she does with her eyes sometimes, I don’t like it-“
“Yeah,” said Angrod, suddenly, “And your brothers are stupid, self-centered fools who couldn’t do something right to save their own lives.”
“What did you say?”
Angrod poked a daisy calmly through another. “I call point,” he said, coolly, without looking up, and Caranthir hated him very much, just that moment.
Five. He caught up to Angrod several paces away from the council chamber, grabbed his shoulder, turned him around, and punched him as hard as he could, square in the nose. It broke with a very satisfying crack, and a thoroughly surprised Angrod went down with a strangled noise of surprised pain.
“Do you know how long I’ve wanted to do that?”
“I’d guess a very long time,” said his cousin, holding his nose, “Feel better now?”
Caranthir considered that. Frowned. Considered it a while longer. “No. Not really. Want me to fix that?”
“No, thanks. Nice of you to offer, though.” Angrod’s stare was baleful. “If I felt like being as much of an idiot as you and your family are being I’d punch you back. But I don’t think it’d help.” He shoved himself to his feet and turned away.
“Wait,” said Caranthir, irritably, “If you want to-“
“I don’t. It wouldn’t have any point.”
“It’d be fair,” he said, and then felt utterly stupid for voicing that thought at all. The look Angrod gave him clearly agreed.
“I’m not going to respond to that.” He paused. “…you know. I was expecting you to do that a long time ago. Not when I may actually have deserved it.”
Caranthir blinked, bewildered. “…what?”
Angrod reached out, patted his shoulder, and said, “Work on it,” holding his sleeve to his nose. He turned and began to walk away. “Good afternoon, Moryo.” Caranthir stared after him, bewildered, until Angrod glanced over his shoulder and frowned. “I still hate you, you know,” he said, and then turned a side path and was gone. Caranthir tried very hard not to be amused. But it really was awfully hard.
Damn Arafinwëans.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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I think you should have an icon that says 'It's the Russians again.' :|
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I blame
Am I not making sense? At any rate, I may have to make one, because.
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Gideon/Felix is indeed a good ship to be on, them and their adorable trying hard but failingness. I love them D: I WANT TO HOLD YOUR HAND GIDEON what.
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GIDEON WOULD HOLD YOUR HAND BUT HE'S DEADZORZ D:
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And for the record, I have no problem with Fingon's assumption of triumphant returns. Is part of being a proud Finwean.
(Is that even what she's saying?)
And aaaw, now I miss Angy EVEN MORE.
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I don't blame you. I miss Angy too. :( But on the other hand this is what ficmobile is for?
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&hearts &hearts
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AND I AM TOO GLEEFUL TO BE CONSTRUCTIVE I WILL COME BACK WHEN MY BRAIN WORKS AGAIN BECAUSE EEEEEEEEE. AND DAISY CHAINS.
Also! Would you mind maybe either unlocking this or friending her so that
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I caaaan unlock? And I would be - delighted to meet new people, always, I just feel weird asking and would be worried that she wouldn't like me. .____. Or something, I don't know. XD But sharing is always fine! I like sharing.
(But slkdjf thank you mostly YOU MAKE MY HEART FLAIL WITH YOUR HEART FLAILING.)
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IT'S OKAY THAT YOU HAVEN'T HARDLY ANYONE ELSE HAS EITHER. Last time I checked, which was admittedly not recently, half the major Silmfic sites (read: two) didn't even list him as a character. Which is more tragic than a barrel of Noldor! :(
And do not even worry! For one thing you both think that Fingon is hilariously over-vain of his hair, that's like soulmates or something. >.>
(OH GOOD BECAUSE IT IS FLAILING A LOT. :D :D :D :D :D :D )
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A BARREL OF NOLDOR? BUT THAT'S TERRIBLE.
(I'm feeling capslocky apparently and oh hell, well, I am a friendly little muffin you know me XD AND GOOD FLAILING YES?)
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And very incredibly tragic!
:D :D :D Okay THINGS I LIKED THE BEST: the use of language to show them growing up! Tiny angry Caranthir with his tiny angry sentences, oh my heart. <3 And Angrod snapping just a little in Four, because his patience is not unlimited! (And of course it will run out entirely eventually and hee.)*__* And poor Caranthir so at a loss in Five, because there Angrod has gone and deflated and confused him again, poor thing. AND THE DAISY CHAINS. :D
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slkdfj you make me happy with your sayings of nice things! And Angrod is so impossible to argue with, you know he is, at least most of the time. Angrod who is hard-but-not-impossible to provoke mmmhm.
Mostly now I want a picture of Angrod wearing daisy chains. I wish I could draw. 8D
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Things I really loved: Caranthir wants to punch Angrod over daisy chains! CARANTHIR THROWS AN ANVIL OUT THE WINDOW LOLOLOLOL. That when punching does actually occur it is over that scene ♥______♥
No, srsly. You are pretty awesome :)
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You know he would! (At least I think so, evidently, much as I think Angrod would make them.) So much thank you and I'm glad you enjoyyyed
now I hear we have similar thoughts on Fingon and his hair?Now that it has been done I think the market needs to be flooded.
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From what I hear we do. He is totally vain about it, yes? I mean, dude takes the time to braid it with gold and that is some serious dedication.
And now I am thinking about an AU where Fingon is Rapunzel. What.
I am gonna add you, if you're cool with that. My flist can never have enough awesome tolkien people :)
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I am sure you don't fail at writing! I mean, I often do and yet I do it anyway, so I think you should make things :D and really mostly I want to see how other people would do it that aren't me.
Pfff, getting out is overrated.
He totally is. Recently I was Breakfast Club categorizing people and he got "The Princess" mostly because I could. And I would read this AU.Ah yes, and if it helps, I have loads of personal pseudocanon for all my favorites, so no stones from here! \o/ Though now I am curious...