| Rosekiller microfic (songfic? idk) | Word count: 641 |
A/N: For better reading experience, I recommend listening to “Brividi” by Mahmood and Blanco, considering that this was based off the chorus of that song
Barty laid next to Evan, goosebumps raised on his skin, head turned so he could better examine the other’s boy’s features.
Evan was sound asleep in Barty’s bed. His lips were parted slightly, and his head rested on the spare pillow that had found its way there sometime after the thousandth occurrence of this happening.
Evan’s eyelashes were long and fluttered slightly as he breathed in and out, naked chest rising and falling evenly as he slept. Something about the way he looked when he was sleeping, soft and unguarded and so painfully lovely, reminded Barty of what he had realized not even three days before.
Barty was in love.
He was in love with someone who understood him, who enjoyed his company, who was beautiful inside and out.
And he wished he could tell Evan, but every time he tried, something in him stopped the words before they ever made it past his lips.
Evan was amazing. He the best thing to ever happen to Barty, and sometimes Barty thought that if he were given the chance, he could love Evan more than any human had ever dared to love another.
But Barty knew that he messed up, over and over and over again, and that he would only hurt Evan if they tried for anything more. The strength of his love threatened to be all-consuming, to chew them both up and spit them back out again. He just didn’t know how to love someone without hurting them.
Barty would sacrifice the world for Evan—he’d known that for a long time. But he had never been certain that he wouldn’t accidentally set the world on fire before handing it to Evan, burning him in the process.
And Barty didn’t want to burn Evan. He didn’t want anyone to hurt Evan, much less for him to be the one to do it.
But as he lay there, he had the sneaking suspicion that he already had.
When he had first kissed Evan, he hadn’t done it because he loved him, he had done it simply because he wanted someone to kiss. And Evan had kissed him back without any hesitation, eager and hungry as they fell into bed together. Barty had thought they wanted the same thing—someone to get off with, something easy and uncomplicated.
But afterwards, when Barty had said as much, he had seen something shatter in Evan’s eyes. Evan had mumbled a quick, “Right”, then made up some excuse to leave.
Barty had blinked, and Evan was picking up his clothes from beside the bed. He had blinked again, and Evan was gone.
But it had happened again. And then again. And it had kept on happening, until Evan wasn’t leaving immediately afterwards, and Barty had realized that he didn’t want Evan to leave at all.
That’s where it had gotten so incredibly complicated, full of messy emotions and misunderstandings. Full of cracked hearts and longing glances, words thought but never spoken.
Sometimes, Barty thought that if he were offered a magic ticket that could take him far away from all of it, take him away from the perilous cliff edge he was dangling off of, he didn’t think that he could refuse. Even if it cost more than money, Barty thought he would be willing to pay the price.
Because the price of the ticket for the other route, the one toward Evan instead of away, was something vital in Evan that Barty knew neither of them could afford.
Barty messed up, and he messed up bad. And he might dream of that destination, the one marked simply “Evan”, but he couldn’t let himself board that train. Evan’s loveliness wasn’t worth it.
So he merely laid there, silently staring at the boy he loved, and tried not to shiver as the goosebumps spread further across his skin.
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I need more selkie theon (and asha. I just think that would be a vibe. fuck the greyjoy sigil being a kraken for a moment and let them be seals) content.
like the opportunity to have theon's coat taken by ned when he's made his ward is right there and it is perfect and beautiful and tragic.
and you could build on that depending on the version of the selkie myth/story you're going off of (I personally love the song of the sea version of selkies for story writing). maybe he can't talk without it, maybe he gets sick, maybe his voice has magical properties of sorts.
I have this one concept in my head that I don't have the time to write, but it goes something along the lines of theon getting sick after years away from his coat and the stark kids have to find his coat and drag his slowly dying ass to the bay of seals (cause y'know bay of seals and theon's a selkie so he'll turn into a seal... I thought it was creative).
also, in a lot of versions of selkies, when they get sick, their hair turns white, which is on brand for theon. they're also pretty, their stories are typically soaked to the bone in tragedy, they're normally held captive/tortured, amongst other things, which are also very on brand for theon.
and maybe you get some selkie to selkie telepathy of sorts, so when theon finally enter the water a seal again, asha books it to come find him, cause its been years since she's been able to feel him (I'm soft for them, I will create the most improbable and ridiculous scenario's to bring them together and for them to have soft sibling moments).
all and all, theon being a selkie is something I need more content of, please and thank you.
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Blood Upon the Snow by Hozier - in Mando’a
Here we go again.
This one is... not quite as difintively A Clone Song to me as the others I’ve translated, but there’s something about the fact that the mando’a phrase for a fresh start is ‘cin vhetin’ or white field/fresh snow, and it’s also what they call pure white armor... like the clones’... and how many of them died needlessly, died without knowing anything but war... Well, I just kind of had to translate it into Mando’a.
I’m honestly pretty pleased with how this one came out? The scansion is pretty damn good, with only one or two spots where there’s an extra syllable, and it still fits fairly nicely. (That’s the nice thing about translating a slow song; there’s more leeway.)
So, here it is:
Tal bat Cin’ciri (Blood upon the Snow)
Bah an kebise o’r kaysh taylir (To all things in her keeping)
Oyu’baat dinu akaan (The galaxy gives violence)
Kaysh meg mar’eyi tsad (He who finds a pack)
Kaysh meg kemi yust* solus (He who walks his path alone)
Uvet drashaa uraktoshya ti cir’nara* (The world grows harder with the winter)
Buire kyr’churu val vaar ik’aade (Parents bury their half-grown children)
An senaare shev’la (All the birds are silent)
Sa utreeyai* bat cin vhetin (As they starve on a white field)
Cir’nara tran*, ge’tal bat cin (Winter sun, red on white)
Sa tal bat cin’ciri (Like blood upon the snow)
Sa tal bat cin’ciri (Like blood upon the snow)
Kyrbeje olar darasuum (The battlefields here are endless)
Eparavur bal su draar yaihil (Devouring and yet never satisfied)
An meg oyu’baat ru dinu (All that the universe gave)
Cuyi taab’echaaj’la lo ka’ra (Is marching on into the stars)
Ni kemi yust (I walk the path)
Bal bid kisol olar suvari (And so few here understand)
Meg dha’ne ca (What the darkest night)
Bal cir’ne woor ven hiibi (And coldest wind will take)
Ni jii dar copaani (I now no longer want)
Haa’taylir vaii yust slana (To see where the path goes)
Dargana ner nada* (I lost my warmth)
Sa tal bat cin’ciri (Like blood upon the snow)
Tal bat cin’ciri (Blood upon the snow)
Tal bat cin’ciri (Blood upon the snow)
Tal bat cin’ciri (Blood upon the snow)
Ner kot ven nu trattoko (My strength will not fail)
Al ibic akaan draar ani (But this war is never done)
Kurshise nuvore (The trees refuse)
Naas meg vencuyani (Nothing which sustains them)
Nu pitat, nu tran’nau (No rainfall, no sunshine)
Nu tal bat cin’ciri (No blood upon the snow)
Tal bat cin’ciri (Blood upon the snow)
Tal bat cin’ciri (Blood upon the snow)
Tal bat cin’ciri (Blood upon the snow)
Bah an kebise o’r kaysh taylir (To all things in her keeping)
Oyu’baat dinu akaan (The galaxy gives violence)
[*yust (way/path, esp. metaphorical) = goyust (road)]
[*cir’nara (winter) = ciryc (cold) + ce’nara (time).]
[*utreeyair (to starve) = utreeyah (empty) + yai (belly). Could also mean ‘barren’ as in, unable to have children, as ‘yai’ also means ‘womb’.]
[*tran (sun) = tranyc (sunny).]
[*nada (warmth/heat) = nadala (hot)]
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who’s afraid of little old me is speaking to the emotional experience of what it’s like to be the person villains always create who is destined to bring about their ultimate demise
Someone who didn’t used to be a threat becomes the greatest threat because of the chronic abuse they suffered at the hands of said villains they will ultimately destroy and defeat
It stunningly captures how painful the process is to become that person, how crazy and trapped you feel at times and how angry you are at the people who created this version of yourself that they hate and want killed
IF YOU HAD JUST LEFT ME ALONE THIS VERSION OF ME WOULD NEVER HAD EXISTED YOU FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT HOW DARE YOU HATE ME WHEN I AM WHAT I AM BECAUSE OF YOU!!!!
when people abuse and traumatize you and then get really angry and attack you even more when you show said signs of that trauma and abuse
cause you lured me
and you hurt me
and you taught me
you caged me
and then you called me crazy
I am what I am cause you trained me
and then people who aren’t abused at least in the ways you were and don’t actually know you see the powerful person you’ve become as apart of this horrible process and envy you
you wouldn’t last an hour in the asylum where they raised me
so then you have people hating you just because you managed to survive and build something stronger out of so much pain and suffering!!! Which makes you feel batshit fucking crazy because you’re like I didn’t choose this!!! I didn’t want this!! This just happened to me and I somehow survived!!!! How dare you act like you know anything about what it’s like to be me and have the AUDACITY to envy the extremely painful life I was forced to lead!?!?!?!?
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