A/N: Thanks for all the positive feedback! ^-^ Here's the next chapter!
Chapter One
Being reborn sucks, okay. Like, you have no idea how bad it gets. Not only are you forced to piss and shit on yourself, people treat you like you're a doll, use horrifically annoying baby voices at you, squeal and laugh and coo at you at all hours of the day and night, and my new Mamma has decided that breast-feeding is "the way to go".
I may have been pansexual, and therefore am more attracted to emotions and personality than physical forms, but having your mother insist on forcing her nipple into your mouth in traumatizing on a level I had never known I would find myself at.
I was forced to let my consciousness fade behind the instincts of an infant, or else I was positive I was going to go insane. I think waiting a few months to really try and do things myself would be better.
After all, no use pushing my baby-body too far too fast. It would only leave me off worse in the end.
oOoOoOo
Okay, maybe trying to walk at seven months was a little ambitious, especially considering that, in my old life, I hadn't started walking until I was nine-months old, but I was going fucking crazy! All day, everyday, I was trapped without movement, my diaper and clothes leaving me uncomfortable (I now understood why young children had a propensity for nudity. Onesies are fucking uncomfortable, I loath the damn things, ugh). And, if I wasn't left on a soft blanket in Nonno's office, I was in a bouncy chair in front of the TV to watch childrens movies and shows(Though, to be honest, they were teaching me Italian faster than my Express Language disks did, annoying songs and all, which was okay).
Damn it all, I was so fucking tired of watching Signore Polpo the talking green octopus teach me to count to ten, using his eight tentacles and then his two eyes, and watching Signora Ambulanza the florescent pink ambulance teach me about the emergency services, and everything. I grew up watching Animal Planet, documentaries, and horror movies in my previous life, damn it, and I wanted to watch some poor gazelle get torn to shreds by a giant kitty!
So, this decision is what brought me to where I was now, standing shakily, clinging to the side of the bouncy chair I'd finally managed to climb out of. My legs felt weird and shaky, but they were awkwardly holding my weight so I was calling it a win. Now, it was time for step two!
...
Heh heh, "step"...
...
Anyways, moving on!
Carefully, I shuffled towards the television, pudgy fingers clinging tightly to the swing, making it stretch out towards me, until I reached the end of the seat's ropes. Narrowing my eyes and clenching my tongue carefully between my gums, I let go of the swing, watching it fall back and rock violently for several moments, hands stretching out on either side of me as I struggled to keep my balance. After several moments, I didn't fall, and slowly, carefully, continued my shuffle, feeling my body get steadily tired the longer I stayed upright. Finally, however, I made it to the TV, and gripped it firmly, letting my body lean against it as I rested.
Once I'd gotten my strength back, I lifted my head and peered at the various buttons that controlled the large screen, ignoring the bright blue babbling raccoon that was on (NO ONE CARES ABOUT YOUR MISSING FISH, SIGNORE PROCIONE! ...It was totally the yellow otter, Signorina Lontra, she's got the purple scales stuck to her paws, which she's hiding behind her back, rude bitch...). I quickly foun four buttons, each next to Italian words, which meant two of the buttons worked with volume, the other two worked with the channel...
Damn it all, what's Italian for channel?
...
SIGNORE PROCIONE, STOP LOOKED FOR YOUR STUPID FOOD AND ASSIST ME!
...
Ugh, stupid blue raccoons...
...
Nevermind, I figured it out. Channel is the one that isn't "volume"...
God damn it, brain, work with me here!
With an annoyed huff, I pressed the "up" button next to canale which was definitely the channel button, as I watched Signore Procione (who was scolding Signorina Lontra about stealing being wrong) disappear in favor of a news channel. Feeling triumphant, I rapidly clicked through channels until I got to Animal Planet (called Animali Pianeta here) and happily toddled until I was three feet in front of it, before I firmly plopped myself down on my diaper-covered bottom, stuffed a hand in my mouth, and watched a documentary on L'Orso Polare, AKA Polar Bears.
Three hours later, we had moved on to a show about puppies and I was falling asleep. Before I could completely drop off, curled on my side on the floor with my entire hand in my mouth, the door opened and my Mamma came in, looking startled.
"Oh!" She gasped, and then beamed as she scooped me up off the ground, cooing. "Did mi dolce bimbo get bored?" I cooed sleepily back, pulling my slobber-drenched hand from my mouth to tangle it in her pretty orange blouse, feeling mildly vindicated when she winced slightly. "Mamma is so fiero of you, Marieta!" She cooed happily, and carried me from the room. I managed a gummy smile at her, before falling asleep against her shoulder.
oOoOoOo
Okay, I know that having my first steps and changing the channel on the TV would get me more interest from the adults, but I think this is going a bit too far.
"Marieta, pay attention!" One of my Uncles (The one right before my Papa, age wise, named Carmelo, who had the usual black hair, and blue eyes, of my Papa's side of the family) scolded me as he carefully fit the strange, pretty stone bracelet around my pudgy wrist, a gift for my ninth month of life, apparently. "Now, do you see the blue stone?" He asked slowly, pointing at it, and I nodded cautiously. "If you are ever taken by scary men or women, and they put you in a room all by yourself, you need to squeeze this stone very hard, okay?" He did so, and the stone indented, making a clicking sound. "When you do this," he continued, and pulled out his phone, showing a green map and a red dot blinking on the screen. "Your Papa and Zio Carmelo will be able to find you, d'accordo?" I nodded, and he had me squeeze the stone to turn the GPS on and off, and had me repeat the instructions three times.
"Well done, Marieta!" He praised, and I grinned back, showing on my single bottom tooth (Teething is hell, okay? I'd rather it never happens again. I chewed my way through a plastic dolls leg, it tasted horrible and my parents had to run me to a Mafia Doctor who looked like a walrus, because they thought I was going to die. He gave me booster shots while I was there, and it was hell, and I bit him with my shiny new tooth and felt better, but never again).
"Now-" Carmelo started, only to be interrupted when a nearby scientist (we were in the Bovino labs today, because Zio Carmelo was head of the R&D Weapons lab, apparently) started to curse and babble in Italian too fast for me to understand. Carmelo cursed himself, and told me to stay put, before he darted away with the scientist, leaving me by myself...
On a table...
In a motherfucking weapons lab...
...
Imma break something.
With that decision, I turned onto my knees, and crawled my way carefully onto a nearby desk, crawling past a keyboard and towards the shiny gun thing on the other side. It looked like a weird crossbow, only, instead of an arrow/sling-shot thingy, it had a tight coil of wire. Curiously, I sat down next to it, and lifted it into my lap, peering at the cook-sized coil. The wire was razor-sharp, as proved when I swung a piece of important-looking paper at it, and it cure the paper neatly. Lifting it cautiously, I pointed the "gun" towards the targets used for testing, stuck out my tongue, and pulled the trigger.
Three things happened.
One, my uncle returned, and shouted.
Two, the wire slashed forward and impaled the wall thirty feet away from me, missing the target completely but sinking several inches into the wall.
Three... The recoil sent me flying back, straight into the cushioned wheelie chair conveniently in place, sending the "gun" out of my pudgy hands, and my body spinning rapidly, forcing me to squeal loudly in surprise and delight, giggling.
"Marieta!" Carmelo cried, rushing over and forcing the chair to stop its mad spinning before it could tip over or I could throw up. I grinned up at my uncle, cheeks hurting from how wide it was. "Are you hurt? What were you thinking?! I told you not to move!" I giggled at him and clapped my hands, reaching for the kick-ass razor-bow.
Dude, I want, like, fifty of them!
"Marieta, you could have died!" Carmelo exclaimed, forcing the chair around so I had to look at him; I blinked, and then pouted. "You're never allowed to play with weapons again, Marieta. Capisci?"
I wanted it.
"No," I said firmly, my first word, and I used it while pouting up at my uncle, who promptly gaped. "No, Zio Ca'm'o." I frowned slightly at how I butchered my name, but Carmelo didn't seem to notice.
Instead, he rather promptly squealed at me.
Squealed.
...
Dude, you're Man Points have just been drastically reduced, because not even Mamma can squeal that high-pitched.
"YOU SAID MY NAME!" He shrieked, scooping me up and spinning, squealing.
Uncle.
Uncle, stop.
No, uncle.
Think of the dogs you're deafening, uncle, think of the poor, innocent puppies!
...
Uncle.
...
Uncle, seriously.
...
I am going to throw up if you don't stop fucking spinning me right now.
...
Uncle?
...
Fuck it, you were warned.
"MARIETA, NOT ON THE SUIT!"
Dipshit.
A/N: Whoot! A little short, but fun! ...And yes, she curses a lot, because I curse like a damn sailor irl, so, yeah, she's a potty-mouth.
Vocab
Signore Polpo - Mr. Octopus
Signora Ambulanza - Mrs. Ambulance
Signore Procione - Mr. Raccoon
Signorina Lontra - Miss Otter
Canale - channel
L'Orso Polare - Polar Bear
Mi dolce bimbo - My Sweet Baby (Bambino is CHILD *as in Toddler* while Bimbo is baby)
Fiero - Proud
Carmelo - Italian & Hebrew meaning "Fruitful Orchard" and "Garden"
Zio - Uncle
Capisci? - Do you understand? (Without the question mark, it becomes You Understand, so it needs the ?)
^-^
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