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tikificTitle: The L Word (Revisited) (Mythklok Interstitial)
Author: tikistitch
Rating: PG-13
Summary: A literary discussion
Warnings: Slash, AU, OCs, swearing, smoking.
Notes: This is short postscript to a 6 chapter sequence I’m calling the Volcano Arc. More notes after the jump.
Not even going to bother to cross-post this one. Just a couple of little pieces that wouldn't fit. If you haven't read chapters 21-26 yet then THERE ARE SPOILERS HERE.
Mythklok is a Metalocalypse AU. If you're behind and for some strange reason wanna catch up, the best place is my fic journal,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
tikific, where you are welcome to come poke it with a pointed stick. I've also written a general introduction in case you wanna jump in the middle of things, or have forgotten all this stuff due to Real Life.
RECAP: This happens just after events recounted in the Volcano Arc (chapters 21-26). If you don't wanna get spoiled for something, you need to read that first.
The L Word (Revisited)
Skwisgaar Skwigelf entered the stables at Valhalla.
"Oh, Sigyns, I just ams wants to tells ya, no hards feelings," he cheerfully told the blonde goddess who was attending one of the mares.
"Uh, hard feelings over what?" she said quietly, blinking her sincere blue eyes and pulling the short brown fur out of the brush.
"Dat you ams fucksing Skanda, da dude dat killed Ganesh. You ams adults, and dat ams your lifestyle choices."
Sigyn tried to go back to brushing, but the mare suddenly jerked away from her. It appeared to study her with it's weird, slitted eyes.
"I have..." Sigyn began. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Oh, so when we walks into his house and sees you ams sitsing in Skanda's laps, dat ams nothings?" said Skwisgaar, merrily rubbing the muzzle of the pure white mount he usually rode.
"It was.... It was a misunderstanding," Sigyn said. Oddly, she seemed to be talking to her horse, and not Skwisgaar.
"So, he didn't gives ya any of da silver pieces, huh?" Skwisgaar asked, looking sly.
"What silver pieces?"
"Dat he gots from da angels, for stealings dose plans?"
"He was paid?" She had stopped even pretending to brush the horse.
"Ja, he ams gives his wife Devasena thirty silver pieces. You ams not gets nothing for helping him? Dat's a pretty bad deal. Especially if you ams helps stealings dem.”
Sigyn glowered. "I received nothing," she whispered. "I didn't do it for money."
"Do what?"
Her horse made another warning sound. "Nothing. I have done nothing."
"Hey, where ams dat Loki dude? I hasn't heard him in da whirlpool latelies. Dat must be why you ams gots lonelies and decided to fuck Skanda, huh?"
Sigyn's horse reared and whinnied. "For the last time, I am not..." she started.
Skwisgaar grinned and, grabbing the bridle, led his white horse out of the stables.
There was a small angel waiting outside, standing beside her small horse. They listened for a time to the sounds of an intense thrashing and terrible vocalizations, and something that sounded very like a woman screaming. And then they mounted and rode.
After a time, Skwisgaar asked, "Dis ams beings da vengeance angel?"
"More or less," grinned Raziel.
"Ams not da bad gigs, huh?"
Sariel sat out in a beach chair on Ganesh's sunny patio. He blamed Raziel for this. She was the one who had gotten him addicted to this tanning stuff. Even though angel skin didn't really tan. Added to the fact that he was currently swaddled in what felt like about sixteen layers of clothing. And a quilt. Who needed a quilt in fucking India? Ganesh appeared to believe it was still possible for him to catch a chill in 72 degree weather. He had also refused Sariel's demand for a tiki drink, despite a lengthy argument about the benefits of all those fruit juices. Look how healthy all those people on the beach in Maui looked, right? Although, to be honest, Sariel hadn’t actually had a chance to study people on the beach in Maui, as he was hunched over, vomiting from alcohol poisoning at the time.
Regardless, he did find he liked being out in the sun. It almost made him not long for a cigarette. Almost. And he liked reading a book instead of peering into a laptop. He had asked Raziel to bring a stack of real books down from Valhalla for him, as he couldn't stand that ridiculous electronic tablet that Ganesh now kept glued to his hand.
Speaking of whom (or actually, thinking of whom) Ganesh had just placed himself in the chair next to him, too-big grin on his face. It was weird. He had been dead, in the ground, and now here he was, back, and with a perfect tan.
He decided, if he didn’t love Ganesh, he would probably have to hate Ganesh.
Which brought up a thought….
"What are you reading?" Ganesh inquired.
"Wuthering Heights. OK. What's with the raised eyebrow?"
"I didn't realize you had a taste for romantic tripe."
"Tripe? The classic film starred Lawrence Olivier."
"Overrated."
"It's one of the world's most beloved films."
"We are supposed to believe Heathcliff and Catherine strolled merrily into the afterlife together?"
"That was studio tampering!"
"Hmpf. So Wyler claimed,” Ganesh laughed, sliding down further on the chair and putting his arms lazily behind his head.
"Besides," Sariel said carefully, "you don't believe love persists in the afterlife?"
Ganesh appeared ever so slightly flummoxed. "Well, obviously.... I mean.... There is.... I am an example...."
"Huh. You still can't say it?"
"Of course I can say it."
"Say what, exactly?"
"That's ... a rhetorical question."
"But, why can't you say it?" Sariel sounded honestly puzzled.
"Well, it's no good saying it now, is it?"
"Why not?" asked Sariel.
"Well, it would be empty! I would obviously only be mouthing the words at your prompting."
Sariel shrugged. "I'm OK with that."
“So, it would be OK with you if I were a robot, or a brain in a jar, and programmed to say certain phrases that pleased you?”
“Philosophically speaking, I’m pretty sure you’re not a brain in a jar, or a head in a box. And as for being a robot, I’ve been accused of worse.”
Ganesh threw up his hands. Two of them, anyway. “So, now you believe you can debate me into saying what you want?”
“Why not? I’m a pretty fucking awesome lawyer.”
“Might I remind you, I am as well an attorney of some renown.”
“Yeah. And I won the only case we ever tried together.”
“Won?” Ganesh was now sitting up straight in the chair. “Your client ended up sentenced to a slow death, confined to the body of a beast!”
“You’re saying he didn’t deserve it?”
Ganesh glared. "Why are you obsessed over my saying certain words?"
"Why are you so stubborn about not saying them? Obviously, I would like it."
"Yes, and I would like to drape a single arm about your shoulders when we view The Philadelphia Story! But, see what a fuss you put up!" There was much pointing and gesturing accompanying the words.
"Huh. Well, I guess I could get used to that, if you'd drop this blocking thing."
"I do not have ‘a blocking thing!’ Might I remind you, I returned from the dead, for you only!"
"Is that what it's gonna be like now? 'I came back from the dead for you, so pick up those socks!'" Sariel attempted to imitate many hands pointing with his two hands.
Ganesh tilted his head. "I don't really sound like that, do I?"
"More or less."
"I rather think I have more of a British accent."
"Not when you're agitated. Then you go back to your real accent."
"My real accent?" Ganesh fumed. He stood, gesturing impatiently. "All right. Move over."
"These chairs aren't big enough for two."
"You barely count as one full body! Perhaps one half!" Ganesh managed to maneuver into Sariel's chaise lounge with the angel on top of him. To Ganesh’s surprise, Sariel buried his head in Gamesh's chest.
Sariel popped his head back up, still sniffing. "YOU'VE BEEN SMOKING!" he said.
"Er. Maybe. Just one. And, not in your presence!"
"YOU'VE BEEN SNEAKING CIGARETTES!"
"I only need to smoke when I am quite agitated!" Ganesh protested.
"And what's gotten you agitated?"
"Your presence seems to have that effect! You are agent provocateur!"
"See?" Sariel grinned. "There goes the accent."
Ganesh lay back for a time. "I am…. I am in love ... with an idiot."
"Hum. I guess that will do. For now."
Ganesh combed his fingers through his lover's distressingly silvery hair for a few moments. "We must do something about fixing your Court Form, jaanu," he fretted. He noticed Sariel's breathing had slowed. The angel was quite suddenly fast asleep. And consequently, now seemed to weigh an extra hundred kilograms.
Ganesh shook his head. Pinned under an angel again. Well, he hadn't a whole lot to do that afternoon. He carefully plucked off Sariels eyeglasses and placed them on the table, and then reached over and, grunting, grasped Sariel's novel from the low table.
"Romantic tripe," he tutted, and began to read.
Author: tikistitch
Rating: PG-13
Summary: A literary discussion
Warnings: Slash, AU, OCs, swearing, smoking.
Notes: This is short postscript to a 6 chapter sequence I’m calling the Volcano Arc. More notes after the jump.
Not even going to bother to cross-post this one. Just a couple of little pieces that wouldn't fit. If you haven't read chapters 21-26 yet then THERE ARE SPOILERS HERE.
Mythklok is a Metalocalypse AU. If you're behind and for some strange reason wanna catch up, the best place is my fic journal,
tikific, where you are welcome to come poke it with a pointed stick. I've also written a general introduction in case you wanna jump in the middle of things, or have forgotten all this stuff due to Real Life.RECAP: This happens just after events recounted in the Volcano Arc (chapters 21-26). If you don't wanna get spoiled for something, you need to read that first.
The L Word (Revisited)
Skwisgaar Skwigelf entered the stables at Valhalla.
"Oh, Sigyns, I just ams wants to tells ya, no hards feelings," he cheerfully told the blonde goddess who was attending one of the mares.
"Uh, hard feelings over what?" she said quietly, blinking her sincere blue eyes and pulling the short brown fur out of the brush.
"Dat you ams fucksing Skanda, da dude dat killed Ganesh. You ams adults, and dat ams your lifestyle choices."
Sigyn tried to go back to brushing, but the mare suddenly jerked away from her. It appeared to study her with it's weird, slitted eyes.
"I have..." Sigyn began. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Oh, so when we walks into his house and sees you ams sitsing in Skanda's laps, dat ams nothings?" said Skwisgaar, merrily rubbing the muzzle of the pure white mount he usually rode.
"It was.... It was a misunderstanding," Sigyn said. Oddly, she seemed to be talking to her horse, and not Skwisgaar.
"So, he didn't gives ya any of da silver pieces, huh?" Skwisgaar asked, looking sly.
"What silver pieces?"
"Dat he gots from da angels, for stealings dose plans?"
"He was paid?" She had stopped even pretending to brush the horse.
"Ja, he ams gives his wife Devasena thirty silver pieces. You ams not gets nothing for helping him? Dat's a pretty bad deal. Especially if you ams helps stealings dem.”
Sigyn glowered. "I received nothing," she whispered. "I didn't do it for money."
"Do what?"
Her horse made another warning sound. "Nothing. I have done nothing."
"Hey, where ams dat Loki dude? I hasn't heard him in da whirlpool latelies. Dat must be why you ams gots lonelies and decided to fuck Skanda, huh?"
Sigyn's horse reared and whinnied. "For the last time, I am not..." she started.
Skwisgaar grinned and, grabbing the bridle, led his white horse out of the stables.
There was a small angel waiting outside, standing beside her small horse. They listened for a time to the sounds of an intense thrashing and terrible vocalizations, and something that sounded very like a woman screaming. And then they mounted and rode.
After a time, Skwisgaar asked, "Dis ams beings da vengeance angel?"
"More or less," grinned Raziel.
"Ams not da bad gigs, huh?"
Sariel sat out in a beach chair on Ganesh's sunny patio. He blamed Raziel for this. She was the one who had gotten him addicted to this tanning stuff. Even though angel skin didn't really tan. Added to the fact that he was currently swaddled in what felt like about sixteen layers of clothing. And a quilt. Who needed a quilt in fucking India? Ganesh appeared to believe it was still possible for him to catch a chill in 72 degree weather. He had also refused Sariel's demand for a tiki drink, despite a lengthy argument about the benefits of all those fruit juices. Look how healthy all those people on the beach in Maui looked, right? Although, to be honest, Sariel hadn’t actually had a chance to study people on the beach in Maui, as he was hunched over, vomiting from alcohol poisoning at the time.
Regardless, he did find he liked being out in the sun. It almost made him not long for a cigarette. Almost. And he liked reading a book instead of peering into a laptop. He had asked Raziel to bring a stack of real books down from Valhalla for him, as he couldn't stand that ridiculous electronic tablet that Ganesh now kept glued to his hand.
Speaking of whom (or actually, thinking of whom) Ganesh had just placed himself in the chair next to him, too-big grin on his face. It was weird. He had been dead, in the ground, and now here he was, back, and with a perfect tan.
He decided, if he didn’t love Ganesh, he would probably have to hate Ganesh.
Which brought up a thought….
"What are you reading?" Ganesh inquired.
"Wuthering Heights. OK. What's with the raised eyebrow?"
"I didn't realize you had a taste for romantic tripe."
"Tripe? The classic film starred Lawrence Olivier."
"Overrated."
"It's one of the world's most beloved films."
"We are supposed to believe Heathcliff and Catherine strolled merrily into the afterlife together?"
"That was studio tampering!"
"Hmpf. So Wyler claimed,” Ganesh laughed, sliding down further on the chair and putting his arms lazily behind his head.
"Besides," Sariel said carefully, "you don't believe love persists in the afterlife?"
Ganesh appeared ever so slightly flummoxed. "Well, obviously.... I mean.... There is.... I am an example...."
"Huh. You still can't say it?"
"Of course I can say it."
"Say what, exactly?"
"That's ... a rhetorical question."
"But, why can't you say it?" Sariel sounded honestly puzzled.
"Well, it's no good saying it now, is it?"
"Why not?" asked Sariel.
"Well, it would be empty! I would obviously only be mouthing the words at your prompting."
Sariel shrugged. "I'm OK with that."
“So, it would be OK with you if I were a robot, or a brain in a jar, and programmed to say certain phrases that pleased you?”
“Philosophically speaking, I’m pretty sure you’re not a brain in a jar, or a head in a box. And as for being a robot, I’ve been accused of worse.”
Ganesh threw up his hands. Two of them, anyway. “So, now you believe you can debate me into saying what you want?”
“Why not? I’m a pretty fucking awesome lawyer.”
“Might I remind you, I am as well an attorney of some renown.”
“Yeah. And I won the only case we ever tried together.”
“Won?” Ganesh was now sitting up straight in the chair. “Your client ended up sentenced to a slow death, confined to the body of a beast!”
“You’re saying he didn’t deserve it?”
Ganesh glared. "Why are you obsessed over my saying certain words?"
"Why are you so stubborn about not saying them? Obviously, I would like it."
"Yes, and I would like to drape a single arm about your shoulders when we view The Philadelphia Story! But, see what a fuss you put up!" There was much pointing and gesturing accompanying the words.
"Huh. Well, I guess I could get used to that, if you'd drop this blocking thing."
"I do not have ‘a blocking thing!’ Might I remind you, I returned from the dead, for you only!"
"Is that what it's gonna be like now? 'I came back from the dead for you, so pick up those socks!'" Sariel attempted to imitate many hands pointing with his two hands.
Ganesh tilted his head. "I don't really sound like that, do I?"
"More or less."
"I rather think I have more of a British accent."
"Not when you're agitated. Then you go back to your real accent."
"My real accent?" Ganesh fumed. He stood, gesturing impatiently. "All right. Move over."
"These chairs aren't big enough for two."
"You barely count as one full body! Perhaps one half!" Ganesh managed to maneuver into Sariel's chaise lounge with the angel on top of him. To Ganesh’s surprise, Sariel buried his head in Gamesh's chest.
Sariel popped his head back up, still sniffing. "YOU'VE BEEN SMOKING!" he said.
"Er. Maybe. Just one. And, not in your presence!"
"YOU'VE BEEN SNEAKING CIGARETTES!"
"I only need to smoke when I am quite agitated!" Ganesh protested.
"And what's gotten you agitated?"
"Your presence seems to have that effect! You are agent provocateur!"
"See?" Sariel grinned. "There goes the accent."
Ganesh lay back for a time. "I am…. I am in love ... with an idiot."
"Hum. I guess that will do. For now."
Ganesh combed his fingers through his lover's distressingly silvery hair for a few moments. "We must do something about fixing your Court Form, jaanu," he fretted. He noticed Sariel's breathing had slowed. The angel was quite suddenly fast asleep. And consequently, now seemed to weigh an extra hundred kilograms.
Ganesh shook his head. Pinned under an angel again. Well, he hadn't a whole lot to do that afternoon. He carefully plucked off Sariels eyeglasses and placed them on the table, and then reached over and, grunting, grasped Sariel's novel from the low table.
"Romantic tripe," he tutted, and began to read.
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Date: 2011-01-24 12:49 am (UTC)Neither did I. :D
My brain is weird.
Are there actually any female angels?
A couple of them, in my research, are said to be female (we're going to meet another female Seraph in the next couple chapters), but I have no idea whether this is traditional, or, as Sariel would put it, "some New Age crystal shit."
although it's fun to think about sometimes, how something would work biologically.
One of the animators on the original Lilo & Stitch movie actually came up with a way for Stitch to have a set of extra arms (it involved folding shoulder blades), but Chris Sanders himself said it kinda squicked him!