Shakastir an Bie (Mythklok Interstitial)
Jul. 8th, 2011 01:00 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tikificTitle: Shakastir an Bie (Mythklok Interstitial)
Author: tikistitch
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Story time
Warnings: Slash, AU, OCs
Notes: Tam came up with the title. This is basically what I did instead of working on my last day at Surgery to keep from going insane.
So there is Baap, and he is the tall daddy, and he smells so lovely and he is from The Still Place, and Nandi lives there, and he has a wet nose. And sometimes Baap will sing in a sweet soft voice and everything is warm. He will sit us down and talk of wonders we shall do when we are tall.
He does not have wings. But he is not sad. He is very brave.
And then there Silver Daddy and he is the softest and prettiest thing and he is from the Place of Wonder and it is so big we will never see it all, though now we can run, we run and try. And he is sad because his heart was hurt, but we will keep him safe and loved.
He wears the shinies on his eyes.
And there are more, so many more of our darlings.
But the best times are just we three.
"Horton Hears a Who? AGAIN?"
"Dr. Seuss is the world’s most beloved children’s author! And there is not room for a veritable mob of angels upon my lap!"
"SURE there is," grinned Charles, stubbornly making himself at home alongside a book, a child, and a martini.
"Hmpf. Not if you keep stuffing in that pie."
"Dada, da bukkabeddy!" giggled Elias, who was rewarded with a sticky bite of huckleberry, at least some of which he managed to cram into his mouth.
“You are a sticky angel, and you are fated to be a chubby angel,” sniffed Ganesh.
“Am not!” protested Charles, proudly lifting his shirt to reveal a quite concave abdominal region.
Ganesh and Elias exchanged a glance. An evil, evil glance.
"Gudagudi," ordered Ganesh.
"GUDI!" squealed Elias.
There is really no withstanding a tickle attack from a multi-armed Hindu god, especially when aided by his son.
"I'm…. Not…. Ticklish!" Charles finally gasped from somewhere down on the floor beneath the couch.
"Of course not, dear," agreed Ganesh, sipping his martini and opening the book, and reading, “On the fifteenth of May, in the jungle of Nool, in the heat of the day, in the cool of the pool….”
Sometimes they will sit together, so still.
And Baap will make the smile drink, and we will shakastir, because we are best. And he will laugh, though it tastes funny. And we have olives. And they are for eating, though they do not know that, for they will slide around and around and escape.
“I meant what I said, and I said what I meant, and….”
“…an elephant's faithful one hundred percent!” Charles chanted, his head now in Ganesh’s lap, his feet thrown over the end of the couch.
“Hunner percen!” echoed Elias.
Ganesh chuckled. “Maybe I ought let you two read this?”
“Baap! Baap! Why a Hoton go fwy?”
“Why didn’t he fly?” asked Ganesh.
“Hoton go fwy!” Elias echoed, rapping the book’s picture of a caged elephant with his globby little hand to emphasize his point.
“He can’t fly, jaanu. He is an elephant, and not an angel. Lelefun?”
“See? And from that we may conclude, elephants are pretty fucking useless,” Charles summarized.
“Dumba Dumba!” Elias insisted. “Dumba go an da ears an go fwy, dada!”
“Hey, yeah, Dumbo could fly! What the fuck’s wrong with Horton?” Charles laughed. “Horton sucks!”
“Hoton suk!” giggled Elias.
“Er, maybe Horton should have sampled Pickles’ special blend?” Ganesh proposed.
Charles had to sit up quite suddenly, as he was choking.
And there are stories. And there are places we shall go, so many of them. But that is so long to wait, we do not know, sometimes we fear our heart will burst from the waiting.
“Personza person a madder haw sma!” Elias repeated.
“Well, I think from now on,” Ganesh commented, “you will read, Boonie, and I will supply the erudite comments. Is that a deal?”
“Woodite?” asked Elias.
“Baap is using his Oxford words again.”
“Am not,” grumbled Ganesh, rising with a hugely yawning Elias. “And now it is sticky angel bedtime.”
“Naw seepy,” Elias protested, blinking.
“Of course not. Kisses!” he said, holding his son upside down over Charles.
“Yuck! Gooey! Horrible!” protested Charles of the baby smooch.
“On you? He has made a clean spot!”
Elias was already asleep by the time Ganesh laid him carefully between his soft friends.
“Put him next to Wunge! Elephants can’t fly!” Charles whispered.
“Angels are sticky,” Ganesh whispered back. Ganesh regarded himself as he departed the nursery. “I could do with a shower.”
“Oooo, can I help?” Charles inquired, closing the door behind him.
And the world is so strange and pretty and warm and wide. And we are with the elephants. And we fly.
Author: tikistitch
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Story time
Warnings: Slash, AU, OCs
Notes: Tam came up with the title. This is basically what I did instead of working on my last day at Surgery to keep from going insane.
So there is Baap, and he is the tall daddy, and he smells so lovely and he is from The Still Place, and Nandi lives there, and he has a wet nose. And sometimes Baap will sing in a sweet soft voice and everything is warm. He will sit us down and talk of wonders we shall do when we are tall.
He does not have wings. But he is not sad. He is very brave.
And then there Silver Daddy and he is the softest and prettiest thing and he is from the Place of Wonder and it is so big we will never see it all, though now we can run, we run and try. And he is sad because his heart was hurt, but we will keep him safe and loved.
He wears the shinies on his eyes.
And there are more, so many more of our darlings.
But the best times are just we three.
"Horton Hears a Who? AGAIN?"
"Dr. Seuss is the world’s most beloved children’s author! And there is not room for a veritable mob of angels upon my lap!"
"SURE there is," grinned Charles, stubbornly making himself at home alongside a book, a child, and a martini.
"Hmpf. Not if you keep stuffing in that pie."
"Dada, da bukkabeddy!" giggled Elias, who was rewarded with a sticky bite of huckleberry, at least some of which he managed to cram into his mouth.
“You are a sticky angel, and you are fated to be a chubby angel,” sniffed Ganesh.
“Am not!” protested Charles, proudly lifting his shirt to reveal a quite concave abdominal region.
Ganesh and Elias exchanged a glance. An evil, evil glance.
"Gudagudi," ordered Ganesh.
"GUDI!" squealed Elias.
There is really no withstanding a tickle attack from a multi-armed Hindu god, especially when aided by his son.
"I'm…. Not…. Ticklish!" Charles finally gasped from somewhere down on the floor beneath the couch.
"Of course not, dear," agreed Ganesh, sipping his martini and opening the book, and reading, “On the fifteenth of May, in the jungle of Nool, in the heat of the day, in the cool of the pool….”
Sometimes they will sit together, so still.
And Baap will make the smile drink, and we will shakastir, because we are best. And he will laugh, though it tastes funny. And we have olives. And they are for eating, though they do not know that, for they will slide around and around and escape.
“I meant what I said, and I said what I meant, and….”
“…an elephant's faithful one hundred percent!” Charles chanted, his head now in Ganesh’s lap, his feet thrown over the end of the couch.
“Hunner percen!” echoed Elias.
Ganesh chuckled. “Maybe I ought let you two read this?”
“Baap! Baap! Why a Hoton go fwy?”
“Why didn’t he fly?” asked Ganesh.
“Hoton go fwy!” Elias echoed, rapping the book’s picture of a caged elephant with his globby little hand to emphasize his point.
“He can’t fly, jaanu. He is an elephant, and not an angel. Lelefun?”
“See? And from that we may conclude, elephants are pretty fucking useless,” Charles summarized.
“Dumba Dumba!” Elias insisted. “Dumba go an da ears an go fwy, dada!”
“Hey, yeah, Dumbo could fly! What the fuck’s wrong with Horton?” Charles laughed. “Horton sucks!”
“Hoton suk!” giggled Elias.
“Er, maybe Horton should have sampled Pickles’ special blend?” Ganesh proposed.
Charles had to sit up quite suddenly, as he was choking.
And there are stories. And there are places we shall go, so many of them. But that is so long to wait, we do not know, sometimes we fear our heart will burst from the waiting.
“Personza person a madder haw sma!” Elias repeated.
“Well, I think from now on,” Ganesh commented, “you will read, Boonie, and I will supply the erudite comments. Is that a deal?”
“Woodite?” asked Elias.
“Baap is using his Oxford words again.”
“Am not,” grumbled Ganesh, rising with a hugely yawning Elias. “And now it is sticky angel bedtime.”
“Naw seepy,” Elias protested, blinking.
“Of course not. Kisses!” he said, holding his son upside down over Charles.
“Yuck! Gooey! Horrible!” protested Charles of the baby smooch.
“On you? He has made a clean spot!”
Elias was already asleep by the time Ganesh laid him carefully between his soft friends.
“Put him next to Wunge! Elephants can’t fly!” Charles whispered.
“Angels are sticky,” Ganesh whispered back. Ganesh regarded himself as he departed the nursery. “I could do with a shower.”
“Oooo, can I help?” Charles inquired, closing the door behind him.
And the world is so strange and pretty and warm and wide. And we are with the elephants. And we fly.
