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About Literature / Hobbyist Laurie A. G.Female/United States Recent Activity
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Literature
All Know Fear
"So you're immortal?"  The words were offered in a genuine curiosity, and if there remained a healthy bit of skepticism, even after her unwilling demonstration, it was to be expected.  Immortal after all, was a big word.  ...and as it happened, not entirely accurate.
"No one's immortal."  She murmured, conscious of his eyes still regarding her from behind.  He didn't offer her the courtesy of allowing modesty, and to be honest, she didn't much care.  She knew that he took in the pale twisting lines across her skin, her newest battle wound now just one more scar among countless others.  The blood on her torn blouse was still wet.  "Though I've heard it claimed otherwise.  Maybe it's true.  I don't know."
"Basically," And here she looked over her shoulder at the man she'd been employed by for some time now, considering the lack of expression offered by his burlap mask, "I'm harder to kill, that's all."  She shrugged, pulling the borr
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Literature
Remember when, still remember- Bobbin chapter 7
"Crack the world sweet, and I would live to see the sun rise... but I would do it alone.  I have grown very fond of you... In fact I'd say you've outright spoiled me to any thought of losing you."  He kissed her shoulder, gently.   "So you are my conscience, Lorna.  Because," another kiss, "I intend to keep you."
It made her shiver, a phantom caress where he tenderly pressed lips to flesh.  Warm with magic, and feather-light.
"And I think I see what you intend to do with me."  She observed, not truly adverse to said intentions.  "How utterly against your character, making love to your wife at any excuse."
"No, no... Not at any excuse," He chided, gently stern, his teeth lightly nipping the sensitive place below her throat. "At each and every available opportunity. There's a difference, you see."  He bent her increasingly willing frame to his whim now, and she happily encouraged each caress with her own, while his words deepened to a hungry whispe
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Literature
Remember When/Still Remember... Bobbin
She did think.  In fact she thought many things, most spilling over her senses in a random tumble.  Unwound...  "You're saying you moved us through time."  She whispered, struggling to grasp what this really meant.  New risks, new opportunities, new games... The devastated forest was almost forgotten.  "You always said that couldn't be done."
"Oh, yes, well..."  He moved to his feet in one rather smooth movement, extending his hand to her in a smug manner. "There's- It can't be done!- because it's not possible, and then there's- It can't be done!- because it's not permitted.  Most 'can't be done's' actually fall into the latter...  Since very few 'can't be done's' in point of actuality, literally cannot be done."
This tangled explanation delivered, he offered her a small frown, feigning chastism, "I do apologize my love, but I would have thought that was implied."
Lorna had a bit more difficulty standing than her husband had, even with his h
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Literature
I Still Remember/Remember When/ch. 5
At first, all she knew was a prickling, painful sort of heat, hitting every inch of her at once.
It felt a bit like a rope burn, some distant part of her mind mused, only... everywhere.  A different part of her mind told her she needed to breathe.  This she ignored.  Breathe, what was breathe?
Then, what was a rope burn, either?  Pain, heat... self?  In some deep place, she shuddered at the concept.  Self.  Being.  An individual, with... mind, personality, touch.  The idea of touch was frightening somehow, and she found herself drawing away from it... Only to stop, and remember again that silent bid to breathe.
To stay.
And then there was touch, tender and feather-light... Warm.  Against, lips.  A kiss.  Yes, a kiss.  This was followed by a swelling within her, triggering the resurgence of a need she'd nearly forgotten existed.  Air.  Yes, that was air.  This was breath. -And this touch?  Nothing terri
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Mature content
A Small Space :iconithy-darc:Ithy-Darc 0 0
Literature
Underground
It was a long way down.
Presumably.  Actually he couldn't see the bottom of the shaft.  Nor could he see his hand in front of his face, or the next rung of the ladder. It was difficult to decide which was more unnerving, but the fear of losing his hold was far worse than either.  The heavy rope was just plain difficult to hold onto, slick with rot and age, and still rough enough to cut at his palms as he struggled to maintain his death grip, suspended god only who knew how far still from safety.
A man whose line of work absolutely depended on the capability of his hands, this may have occupied more of his mind than it should, given the current circumstances.  ...And that was probably a good thing.  He'd never been one to panic at, say, small spaces, or heights, or... well, the dark...  The combination though?  As it happened, that was a different story altogether.
And the knowledge that the building above them was likely no longer standing...
Buried a
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Literature
Strangers with Coffee, (cont)
He didn't say goodbye to her.  After the frustrating trek halfway across the small city, all he'd done was make a weak joke, and apologize for being late.   And she'd smiled.
It shouldn't satisfy him, but it did.
He still remembered how their odd little daily ritual had started.  It was entirely unplanned, to say the least... In fact, it was the result of a plan gone pretty badly awry.
His previous job had been as, more or less, the guy who ran around picking up the stuff that other people in his company managed to let fall through the cracks.  Paperwork, research, double checking facts, and making certain the proper legalities were in place- often at the last moment, after everyone else had conveniently forgotten.
Fairly straightforward, if entirely unfulfilling.  But the pay was good, and it was what he knew, so he took all of the unrealistic demands in stride, saw them done, and done properly, and if no one really acknowledged his efforts?  Well, it mea
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Literature
Laughter of the Winged Ones
The night smelled like honey, seawater, and warm skin. Not something that belonged in the broken remains of what had once been a massive city, now centuries lost to human memory.  And if any of us had been human, we might have found it strange- that is, if we were able to notice it at all.  Human senses missed so many things...
There was a sense of electricity that was promised as the wind grew sharper, a biting pleasure, with bared teeth. It was a cry to the hunt, rising in the throat of the building storm, and each answered in their own way.  To do any less was unthinkable, an aberration of ourselves and our natures.  A thousand sets of eyes watched the sky, eagerly, needingly.  This was a night we'd all waited with baited breath, and it had been too long coming for any of our tastes.
Above, the winged ones laughed, rising and falling on the heady sea winds, a cacophony of excited multitudes as countless creatures engaged in a contest to make their own storie
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Literature
I Haven't Forgotten 4
A slow smile teased at the corners of her husband's lips, quickly growing to a full devilish grin.  "Oh my dear sweet mate," He murmured, eyes glinting with mischief, "How I do adore you... Wonderful. Perfect.  ...I think." He turned that gaze to her, and she felt a thrill of excitement at the dark pleasure in her lover's eyes, "Oh well.  Without question, we are going to cause some real trouble, this time through."
Lorna bit her lower lip, aware that encouraging this mindset would only add to whatever chaos the puck was spinning.  ...Oh, but it was hard to refuse him when he got that playful look of his.  Still.  "Real trouble being...?"  She pressed, not willing to commit to his scheme quite so quickly.  "What exactly are you planning, love?"
He laughed, and if it was a bit reckless, that was mostly the norm for him.  "We're dead right now, agreed?"  He demanded, jumping up to a low crouch, absently brushing aside the thread-like root
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Literature
I Haven't Forgotten, 3
Her husband barely seemed to pay this any mind.  He chuckled, stretching a little as he pulled a small leather pouch from his belt... It seemed to double in size, once, then twice, then again, though it looked to her like a distant object drawing closer, more than something genuinely growing.  "Well, let's see if I can't give this a nice little stir, then..."
The first thing that he held up, drawn from the contents of the dangerous bag, was a slender bit of stone and moonlight, falling deathly motionless at the end of its slender ribbon.  Lorna knew it immediately, and felt a chill wash over her, raising goosepimples down her arms.  "No.  No, put that back.  We're not going there."
Pausing in surprise, he gave her something of an exasperated glance.  "Sweetie..." He began, preparing to cajole her into seeing things his way, "There's little enough that can-"
"No."  She whispered firmly, shaking her head.
The puck ignored her, continuing just as if
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Literature
Offering Help
It wasn't like her, he reflected, considering the young woman with an uncertain glance.  She sat quietly in the overstuffed armchair, surrounded by dust and torn paper, her gaze fixed on nothing at all.
The long-sleeved thing she enjoyed wearing was lifeless at the moment, gray and limp against her sides.  It always brought to mind a straight jacket when she held her arms that way.  Except that she wasn't protecting the world from herself, but trying uselessly to protect herself from it.  There was no mistaking her current look of fear.
He knew better than to approach her right away, so he began straightening his desk instead, giving the otherwise work-strewn room a semblance of order.  One neat thing in an island of chaos.  He had been warned that this didn't speak well of his own sanity, but he'd long since stopped caring about the opinions of his peers.  This was all work to them, nothing more.  They left it behind at work, drank, read, distra
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Literature
I Haven't Forgotten P2
(Picking up here.)
It was he who eventually broke the kiss, a bit smugly.  Well aware of the grip he held on her.  The creature had no small trace of arrogance to his nature, it was true.  She had little doubt still that he'd been equally affected.
Before she could point this out however, a physical sense, like a massive concusive blast, knocked them both into the dirt, and left flashes of light flaring behind her eyes.  "Oh look,"  She muttered aloud, a bit annoyed by the timing, and the irony of now possessing the very sort of headache he'd lied about before, "I think he's found us."
(end of flashback)
"Tsk."  Bobbin sighed, not immediately rising, but offering the previously willing woman, now actually beneath him, a wistful glance.  "You know, all I really needed was another two, maybe three hours.  Oh well."
Lorna's lips twisted in amusement, even if the claim were not entirely untrue.  Still, how like the man to make jokes with the dev
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Literature
I Haven't Forgotten
It was a positively lovely hole in the ground, as such things went.
The place she and Bobbin had wound up was literally just this, a hole, wrent from wounded earth.  It hid beneath the falling form of an ageless sentinel, now resting in its final repose.  Seeming to reflect back on the centuries, and die in the same unhurried pace it had spent its whole life.
Still, it was with no small protest that it had surrendered its grip on the familiar bed of mortal soil.  It would have been a violent upheaval of dirt and stone, debris erupting with the low, angry groan that served as it's death rattle. Massive roots, some the size of a man's waist, would have snapped and cracked with terrible sound...
Thus was their sanctuary born.  Peaceful, now that it had accepted its end.  She tried very hard not to read into that. Tried to just be here, and not reflect on everything they stood to lose.  To just, be here.
...The smell of upturned earth was comforting to her.
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Literature
Strangers with Coffee (beginning)
It was the same table, every day, the same time.  A crappy, run down little bistros, complete with peeling shingles, rusted tables, and a sign that hadn't been repainted in forty years, give or take. At the moment, she was the only one there.  Not surprising, considering the weak, burnt coffee that sat untouched in her cup, but then she wasn't there for the coffee.
He was just 'Robert' to her. She didn't even know if it was his real name. Didn't know if he was a husband, a father, a bookkeeper, a businessman... She just met him here, day after day, and they sat, and they didn't drink coffee. Neither of then said much either.  For the most part, he'd shuffle through virtual 'papers' on his tablet, sorting, stacking, collating, whatever that was.
She on the other hand, did nothing.  It was quieter here than in many parts of their growing little town, and between life and work, she had precious few moments to just sit and enjoy the quiet.  And they did this, day a
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Mature content
Thirteen Pieces (Prologue and preview) :iconithy-darc:Ithy-Darc 0 3
Literature
Value of What's Lost Ch 17
Chapter 17
Growing Up?
Sarah sat there, her back pressed against the squat stone wall, her knees drawn up to her chest… Her head hung in an effort not to look at the others. For their part, they just sat around her in a protective semi-circle, quiet as anything, waiting for her to make up her mind. Even Blue, uncharacteristically still, and sedate, as she perched on Hoggle's knee… An unspoken truce between the two enemies, at least for the moment, for the sake of their mortal friend.
At last, she leaned back more, and sighed, looking skyward again… As if her answers were up there, in the unshaped sky-stuff of Jareth's unformed magic. No sun anymore, nothing resembling clouds… Just shimmering bands of what couldn't quite be called light, beckoning her, daring her, to try to look beyond them. Or at least hold her gaze, for more than a span of breaths.
She couldn't. It spun and teased at something deeper than her eyes, and after a moment, she shook her head, and turned
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Do you want to know what genuinely torments me about writing?  I just can't give the characters life, not if they're my own.  The best success I've had with being both really satisfied with my work, and finding others to enjoy it too, has been in fan fiction.

I stopped writing fan fiction almost four years ago.  This was both because I'd assigned myself too much in too short a time, and felt burned out, and because I felt like, to be a 'real' writer, my writing my stories, characters and world, should be my own creations.  Entirely my own.

The problem is that even when I create a character I feel I can run with, it feels, 'unalive' to me.  Established works?  Good ones?  The first time I read them, they become  'alive.'  I understand their mannerisms, their motivations, their hopes and dreams.  Or think I do.  Their voices are clear in mind.  Gestures, so on.

I haven't been able to run very far with my own works.  It becomes frustrating, increasingly so, and becomes reason to put off sitting down to write.  Excuses become so easy I don't even recognize them.  Making an effort becomes something dreaded, and avoided.

...I've written nothing, really.  In four years.  I've tried, here and there, but as I said, maintaining it...?

It is so frustrating, and... so many things.

...Thank you for listening, I really just needed to vent.  Also reflect what I'm actually trying for, and if I've forgotten it.

Such is life, right?

deviantID

Ithy-Darc
Laurie A. G.
Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
United States
This is me. I love a good rogueish character with a good portrayal, and all my favorite creations- other people's, mind you- seem to fit the definition.

So basically-
Dysfunctional
Eccentric
Humorous
Intellectual
...and probably not generally nice. Who doesn't love a good villain!

Added points if the character in shaped as 'human,' with motivations and flaws and wants, rather than just the big evil. More added points if the story has me rooting more for the 'bad guy' by the end, rather than the hero! Or is the hero! Playing with people's perceptions and preconceptions between the two... that's just lovely.

Ideally, just getting my mind flipped by character revelation. Prefer it to more broadly defined 'twist endings' any day.

...no, my interest does not extend to real life scaries. Thank you for asking. I'll take my daily dose of confusingly evil in a fictional setting, and be very happy with it.

Pleasant Dreams!

...and do let me invade them from time to time, won't you?
Interests

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VampyreNinjaKen Featured By Owner Sep 12, 2017   Digital Artist
Thanks for the :+fav:!!! :meow:
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Thanks for the watch!
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Thank you so much for adding me to your watch. I really hope you are going to like my works. ^///^
Go and have an awesome day! Hug 
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Thanks you for the fav :D
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Thank you for the fav! :D I really appreciate it! :heart: :hug:
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MightyRaptor Featured By Owner Jul 3, 2017  Student Digital Artist
hollaaaa Tyrunt gif Tyrunt gif Tyrunt gif 
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Ithy-Darc Featured By Owner Jul 3, 2017  Hobbyist Writer
...? Um, back at you then!
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well it was nice to greet ya
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Ithy-Darc Featured By Owner Jul 6, 2017  Hobbyist Writer
Oh! I don't mean anything mean, just surprised. I don't get a lot of random greetings. ^L^; Guess that came off a little rude. Sorry.
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