Endangered Helen

Think I may be insane. Oh well.

1 3/4 pages on new story so far. Aiming for about ten before I post up chapter. Again, insane.

Wooh.

-waves little flag-

Ew.

Compulsory R.S.

Ew.

-bored-

Teh Awesome Tigg: || Things Fall Apart; The Centre Cannot Hold says:
Dakor?
helen says:
Mm?
Teh Awesome Tigg: || Things Fall Apart; The Centre Cannot Hold says:
Is your real name Helen
Teh Awesome Tigg: || Things Fall Apart; The Centre Cannot Hold says:
?
Teh Awesome Tigg: || Things Fall Apart; The Centre Cannot Hold says:
-peer-
helen says:
No
helen says:
It's Marco
helen says:
-bland-

(to be posted on fp.com when I can be arsed. See how many people I can piss off by making it as crap as possible)

THE PLANNING OF THE STORY

[substitute these lies for facts] ['Oi, you fucking midget!' - V'shan <3 Dai.] says:
She hates him, he hates her. WOE IS THEM when... their best friends start dating!
[substitute these lies for facts] ['Oi, you fucking midget!' - V'shan <3 Dai.] says:
And keep on trying to set them up! -shockhorror-
[ "Oh, you're always so grouchy when you get cut in half." ] says:
dun dun, duunn
[substitute these lies for facts] ['Oi, you fucking midget!' - V'shan <3 Dai.] says:
But finally they go to a party together
[substitute these lies for facts] ['Oi, you fucking midget!' - V'shan <3 Dai.] says:
And... he ends up in bed with her best friend
[substitute these lies for facts] ['Oi, you fucking midget!' - V'shan <3 Dai.] says:
And she runs off to get pissed at a bar
[substitute these lies for facts] ['Oi, you fucking midget!' - V'shan <3 Dai.] says:
and there she meets a girl. And the girl's like 'boys suck'. And she agrees. And they become lesbian lovers.
[substitute these lies for facts] ['Oi, you fucking midget!' - V'shan <3 Dai.] says:
THE END
[ "Oh, you're always so grouchy when you get cut in half." ] says:
-applause!-

lalala.

-suspect eating half-cooked meat is not the smartest thing to do-

Bamf.

Logan whirled around with a snarl, his nose twitching as the smell of brimstone filled the room. “Kurt,” he growled warningly, one hand rising to the bandages that covered his eyes.

Bamf.

Logan turned again, his head jerking – but he knew he was staring at where Kurt had been, not where he was now. Damn the mutant; this wasn’t funny. “Kurt,” he snarled, dog-like.

Bamf.

“Kurt, Goddamnit!” Logan roared. “Stop fucking doing that!” There was a long silence, and Logan heard his own breathing fall harshly in his ears as he strained for the next ‘bamf’, the next sound that would signal Kurt’s departure to yet another place in the already brimstone-filled room.

“Doing-“

Bamf.

“What-“

Bamf.

“Liebchen?”

Logan snarled again, circling the room blindly, wishing now more than ever that he hadn’t got in that stupid fight and that his eyes weren’t taking so long to heal up.

“You know what,” he said, “And if you don’t stop it, I’ll make you.”

Bamf.

“Really?” Kurt laughed, and Logan can’t help but feel his irritation ebb away slightly at the unusual cheerfulness in the blue mutant’s voice.

“How would you do that?”

Logan was prepared for the next time and-

Bamf.

-As Kurt reappeared, he lunged for where he thought he could feel him, sending them both flying to the ground in a rough tackle. Logan grinned viciously as Kurt’s breath came out shocked on his skin, and he moved his face down to where he thought Kurt’s was and dipped his mouth down.

When he resurfaced, he still had a grin on his face.

“Like that,” he grinned. “Liebchen.”

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-is sad-

Heheh. ^^;

Green flames flickered at his fingertips, casting tinted shadows over the crevices of his hand. Dark eyes focused carefully and gentle heat radiated from the fire – and then, still focusing, he clenched his hand and smothered the flames into nothing.

“Doesn’t that hurt?” Noster said from where she was lying on his bed, and Tristan turned to grin at her.

“Not really,” he said comfortably. “Weren’t you listening? Master Merrion said it was something to do with the planes and summoning.”

Noster rolled her eyes, an answering grin on her face. “Do I ever listen?” she asked, and Tristan didn’t bother to reply, instead looking over at her with a careful scrutiny.

The two were similar in their appearances; both scruffy with black hair and brown eyes and slightly angular faces. Sometimes they found it amusing to try and pretend they were siblings, but they always seemed to get caught out when they tried that. Tristan reckoned there was some general conspiracy out to stop them from causing any chaos.

“Do I have something in my hair?” Noster said wryly, catching his glance, and Tristan shrugged.

“No,” he said lightly, and waited for her to flop back down on his bed before he flicked his index finger and murmured “Tangle,” quietly. Noster screeched as her hair flew upwards in dark strands, an invisible force twisting them messily.

“Tristan!” she protested loudly. “You’ll pay for that!” She brought her own magic up and with a flip of her hand, Tristan found himself completely drenched.


Yeah. Kiddy fantasy. Opinions? (No Steph, you're not allowed to comment.)

For Nadia, with her odd, odd ideas. Each to their own I suppose. And someday I'll write you a better version.

...Someday


“Mark for your thoughts,” F’lar whispered, wrapping an arm around his shorter half-brother, a slow grin on his face dispelling his normally stern demeanor. F’nor jerked slightly, obviously not having heard his brother approach, and a blush tinged his cheeks faintly.

“Nothing,” he said, trying to persuade himself as much as F’lar. “I was just thinking.”

“Bad for your health,” F’lar remarked, and F’nor found himself smiling reluctantly, secretly pleased at the way F’lar relaxed around him. A kiss brushed his cheeks, and F’nor felt himself tense again – and F’lar drew back, confused and trying not to show it.

There was a long pause as they stared into each other’s eyes, and for a second there, F’nor tried to imagine it wasn’t F’lar looking down at him, but a female, looking up, her eyes blazing with defiance. His breath quickened without thinking, and F’lar smirked victoriously, certain it was he who had caused the response. He leant forward and brushed his lips over F’nor’s, deepening the kiss as he pushed the stockier ‘rider back against a wall.

Hands found their way under a loose blue shirt, grazing softly against skin and then-

“Lessa,” F’nor whispered softly, agonisingly.

F’lar froze, and F’nor seemed to realise what he had said, pressed beneath his half-brother’s body.

“F’lar,” he said, his eyes wide. “I-”

F’lar turned and went, and F’nor was left to stare at his back, touching a finger to his bruised lips, and mouth unable to form the words he needed. Faranth, oh Faranth…

Somehow, he wasn’t surprised to see the coldly triumphant look on F’lar’s face when Mnementh flew Ramoth, and somehow, he wasn’t surprised when it eventually turned into something more.

But when he kissed Brekke, he wasn’t sure whether it was Lessa or F’lar he wanted there.

40 and climbing.

Bastards.

Everyone's fine though, I think.

Ha! HA! I didn't need the blue fairies! I finished it all on my lonesome!

...Okay, so it's all bollocks, but that's not the point.

And. Um. I'm ignoring the history work, okay? My brain hurts. Which is strange, because I could have sworn my brain disowned me long ago.

-is wuss- -needs sleep-

Couldn't they ask for directions?

I bet they're male fairies.

You know what's quite sad? I half-base my life off roleplaying, and I've just worked out I could quite happily give it up and simply be far less stressed and spend more time actually writing.

And there would be no Gavriel.

Or Sioan (GODDAMN HIM! DIEDIEDIEDIEDIE!).

Or various other annoying people I feel the need to kill on an otherwise random basis. (-coughcough-LiaraandB'nekshouldbeputupagainstawallandshot-cough-)

Mmm, giving up RPing. Such a very tempting idea.

...This is probably just a phase.

And I'm /still/ putting off doing my maths - when are the little blue fairies going to arrive? D'you reckon they're lost or something?

Who are we? Is it our names that make us who we are, what other people think of us or what we think of ourselves?

If someone asks you who you are, you tell them your name. If you woke up and found out that you were adopted, and your name was something completely different, what would you tell them? Would you still be who you thought you were? If my name were Vicky Gray, would I be different from who I am now?

(Note: my name is not Vicky Gray, and nor am I adopted or the secret lovechild of George Bush. Just so that's out of the way.)

If you act differently around my friends than around my family, who are you really - the person your friends know, or the person your family knows? Or are you simply two-faced; someone no one really knows?

Is this random rambling going on too long? Undoubtedly.

Should I be doing my maths stats work? Indisputably.

Is this completely and utterly emo? Undeniably.

WHY AREN'T THE LITTLE BLUE FAIRIES DOING MY WORK FOR ME DAMNIT?

Gah.

-headdesk-

...77 words.