Rolled-up Newspapers Aren't Any Better
Mar. 13th, 2007 07:56 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tanarillUniverse.
M!Heres Tanarill is now canon, because of no less than three things my brain presented me with today. One is how the story works now that Rill was male for a few weeks. Two of them were written things. This is the first.
Title: Love
Fandom: Look, why are you even asking? DP still (C) Butch Hartman, though
Rating: G
Warnings: Fluff, confusing anatomical descriptions, and really confusing usage of masculine pronouns
Eska, in life, had been a determined person practically from the moment she had been born, and she hadn’t changed much just because she’d become a piece of steel. Becoming soulsteel, in fact, had taken more determination that anything else she’d ever done. She’d hauled the ore out of the mountain herself, made the charcoal, served as apprentice while the sword was being made, carried it for nearly forty years, and when it was finally time to become the sword, she’d heated it speared it, red-hot, through her own body.
And that was before spending several thousand years being carried out by troubled youths.
But, she had to admit, Heres Tanarill was the toughest case she’d ever encountered, including that one time with the sheva’ii from the Cities.
All right, she sighed. If she had had a human body, she’d have been pinching the bridge of her nose. Let’s take it from the top. Why are you upset now?
“I had sex with Dan.”
And this is a problem because . . . ?
“I. Had. Sex. With Dan.”
So? Dan enjoyed it. You enjoyed it. What’s the problem?
“Dan belongs to the timekeeper.”
Dan belongs to himself.
“You,” he said ‘you’ in the tone of voice he only ever used when addressing the demon in his heart. He had, only a few hundred years after getting said demon, told him that he was going to be quiet unless spoken to, and the demon had, except for a few extreme cases, done so. “Back me up here.”
The demon in his heart had learned not to use words to talk to him. He used words to talk to other people, or if Heres Tanarill needed technical instructions. But the rest of the time, he ignored words; and after a quite short time, he often ignored words in favor of communication even when he was allowed to talk. Nevertheless, he
uncurled, flicking his tongue softly and soothingly against his mind, purring like a small engine, scales and feathers slipping shining against each other as he wove in and around himself. “No.” A deep, hypnotic rumble, so full of love, so bright and pure, that it was an inconceivable dichotomy that something so dark could have made it. “It was good for you. It was good for him, too,” his tongue was split, and he flicked it out to taste his distress, “but he does no matter so much. I agree with the old woman.”
“The timekeeper’s going to like me even less now!”
“Let him. He does not matter. You matter.”
And at the same time, Why should it bother you, unless he keeps you from doing your job?
“Oh, you–” he could not have said if he was talking to the sword or the demon in his heart or both.
Listen. He’s a timekeeper. You’re a Walker. Once this is done, you’re going to be sent off to Walk the worlds again and you’re never going to see him again.
“Never? I might be called back–”
“In this world?” A contemptuous flick of tail, a slow blink of lazy eyes as one almost invisible film swept down over golden, slit pupils. “In other worlds, maybe. But in this world, it is doubtful. You would not be here at all had you not been summoned.”
“But–”
He’s right, you know. Once you fix something here, the timekeeper will see to it that it stays fixed. Period. Here, magic takes.
“But–”
Oh for Sheva’s sake, boy! Fine. You had sex. You enjoyed it. That’s not a sin. If anything is a sin, it’s thinking that just because you’ve had bad luck in the past, you deserve not to have good luck in the future! Now stop wallowing in self-pity and do something useful! If nothing else, I could use a polish. She didn’t, really, but Heres Tanarill needed something to distract him.
Which didn’t help.
He loved him. He still said nothing but the warmth, the pride and joy and wonder at his being, an emotion so pure and so terrible it had compelled him to leave perfection to search for him (for her, it didn’t matter), was louder still for the silence. He was wound up tight, curled within the very heart of him, scales faintly scraping against each other as he moved, the bright iridescence of his feathers hypnotic as they caught and deflected nonexistent light. He loved him, no matter what form he wore or what long eternities it took. He loved him.
Which did.
Heres Tanarill fell asleep watching the love that the demon in his heart held for him.
Yes, actually, that is what Heres Tanarill sits and does as soon as she's over the post-coital whenever she enjoys sex. Especially if she enjoys sex with someone in a relationship, although she wouldn't have had sex in the first place if she actually thought her partner's partner would mind. That was mostly to showcase her insane, and also the demon in her heart. Thoughts?
The story thus far:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ragtime_wurm's request spontaneously triggered a spawn in my plotbunnies, which in turn resulted in a much larger fic than I had originally anticipated. Work goes smoothly, but it will take time. However, to prove that I am working on it, some amusing snippets.
***
It wasn’t exactly the amulet Danny was holding. It was better-crafted, for one, as if the person who had made it actually knew what they were doing. For another, the sharp runic lines marched in neat ranks across the stone, whereas Vlad’s held only a few, and those crudely carved. And of course, there was the fact that the one on the internet didn’t have a heartbeat. But aside from that, they were similar.
***
“Great,” groaned Danny. “I have a god after me–”
“–an insane god–” broke in Tucker cheerfully.
“–an insane god after me, thank you Tucker [. . .]
***
–naked.
“Sam, you had better not be watching!”
“I’m not watching,” said Sam from the bushes. Watching.
Go ahead, C&C. I adore C&C.
M!Heres Tanarill is now canon, because of no less than three things my brain presented me with today. One is how the story works now that Rill was male for a few weeks. Two of them were written things. This is the first.
Title: Love
Fandom: Look, why are you even asking? DP still (C) Butch Hartman, though
Rating: G
Warnings: Fluff, confusing anatomical descriptions, and really confusing usage of masculine pronouns
Eska, in life, had been a determined person practically from the moment she had been born, and she hadn’t changed much just because she’d become a piece of steel. Becoming soulsteel, in fact, had taken more determination that anything else she’d ever done. She’d hauled the ore out of the mountain herself, made the charcoal, served as apprentice while the sword was being made, carried it for nearly forty years, and when it was finally time to become the sword, she’d heated it speared it, red-hot, through her own body.
And that was before spending several thousand years being carried out by troubled youths.
But, she had to admit, Heres Tanarill was the toughest case she’d ever encountered, including that one time with the sheva’ii from the Cities.
All right, she sighed. If she had had a human body, she’d have been pinching the bridge of her nose. Let’s take it from the top. Why are you upset now?
“I had sex with Dan.”
And this is a problem because . . . ?
“I. Had. Sex. With Dan.”
So? Dan enjoyed it. You enjoyed it. What’s the problem?
“Dan belongs to the timekeeper.”
Dan belongs to himself.
“You,” he said ‘you’ in the tone of voice he only ever used when addressing the demon in his heart. He had, only a few hundred years after getting said demon, told him that he was going to be quiet unless spoken to, and the demon had, except for a few extreme cases, done so. “Back me up here.”
The demon in his heart had learned not to use words to talk to him. He used words to talk to other people, or if Heres Tanarill needed technical instructions. But the rest of the time, he ignored words; and after a quite short time, he often ignored words in favor of communication even when he was allowed to talk. Nevertheless, he
uncurled, flicking his tongue softly and soothingly against his mind, purring like a small engine, scales and feathers slipping shining against each other as he wove in and around himself. “No.” A deep, hypnotic rumble, so full of love, so bright and pure, that it was an inconceivable dichotomy that something so dark could have made it. “It was good for you. It was good for him, too,” his tongue was split, and he flicked it out to taste his distress, “but he does no matter so much. I agree with the old woman.”
“The timekeeper’s going to like me even less now!”
“Let him. He does not matter. You matter.”
And at the same time, Why should it bother you, unless he keeps you from doing your job?
“Oh, you–” he could not have said if he was talking to the sword or the demon in his heart or both.
Listen. He’s a timekeeper. You’re a Walker. Once this is done, you’re going to be sent off to Walk the worlds again and you’re never going to see him again.
“Never? I might be called back–”
“In this world?” A contemptuous flick of tail, a slow blink of lazy eyes as one almost invisible film swept down over golden, slit pupils. “In other worlds, maybe. But in this world, it is doubtful. You would not be here at all had you not been summoned.”
“But–”
He’s right, you know. Once you fix something here, the timekeeper will see to it that it stays fixed. Period. Here, magic takes.
“But–”
Oh for Sheva’s sake, boy! Fine. You had sex. You enjoyed it. That’s not a sin. If anything is a sin, it’s thinking that just because you’ve had bad luck in the past, you deserve not to have good luck in the future! Now stop wallowing in self-pity and do something useful! If nothing else, I could use a polish. She didn’t, really, but Heres Tanarill needed something to distract him.
Which didn’t help.
He loved him. He still said nothing but the warmth, the pride and joy and wonder at his being, an emotion so pure and so terrible it had compelled him to leave perfection to search for him (for her, it didn’t matter), was louder still for the silence. He was wound up tight, curled within the very heart of him, scales faintly scraping against each other as he moved, the bright iridescence of his feathers hypnotic as they caught and deflected nonexistent light. He loved him, no matter what form he wore or what long eternities it took. He loved him.
Which did.
Heres Tanarill fell asleep watching the love that the demon in his heart held for him.
Yes, actually, that is what Heres Tanarill sits and does as soon as she's over the post-coital whenever she enjoys sex. Especially if she enjoys sex with someone in a relationship, although she wouldn't have had sex in the first place if she actually thought her partner's partner would mind. That was mostly to showcase her insane, and also the demon in her heart. Thoughts?
The story thus far:
ragtime_wurm's request spontaneously triggered a spawn in my plotbunnies, which in turn resulted in a much larger fic than I had originally anticipated. Work goes smoothly, but it will take time. However, to prove that I am working on it, some amusing snippets.***
It wasn’t exactly the amulet Danny was holding. It was better-crafted, for one, as if the person who had made it actually knew what they were doing. For another, the sharp runic lines marched in neat ranks across the stone, whereas Vlad’s held only a few, and those crudely carved. And of course, there was the fact that the one on the internet didn’t have a heartbeat. But aside from that, they were similar.
***
“Great,” groaned Danny. “I have a god after me–”
“–an insane god–” broke in Tucker cheerfully.
“–an insane god after me, thank you Tucker [. . .]
***
–naked.
“Sam, you had better not be watching!”
“I’m not watching,” said Sam from the bushes. Watching.
Go ahead, C&C. I adore C&C.
