Nikki Miyawazas Napkin Note:
(A Napkin Note is some "little" rant I wrote on a piece of resturant
napkin.)
Bunny Rabbit is here for another story of intimate possession. My innocent
alter ego shouldn't be writing such adult things, but even irony sounds
funny, especially when Bunny Rabbit writes the very naughty things in my
stories, while Crescent Wolfie scribbles about comedy and jokes that isn't
funny. Bunny and Wolfie make up the incredible writing author with her pen
name as Crescent Bunny Wolfie Rabbit, okay so maybe I need to think of
another name . . . um, how about Nikki Miyawaza? Okay, so I am an anime
freak, so what? Read. Read. Read. My stupid little story of Serena and
Darien. Not Usagi and Mamoru (sp?). Not Serenity and Endymion. I think they
should use Serena and Darien for Alternate Reality, Usagi and Mamoru for
Episode Fics, and Serenity and Endymion for Moon Kingdom Fairy Tales.
That's how my system works, deal with it or go to hell. It's better than
going to the Bahamas.
Title: Tuesday's Child Authoress: Heidi Sigua Story Genre: Romance/Angst/Alternate Reality
Part One: Wednesday
"Love was always a stranger to me. But when I listen to him play those seductive melodies and harmonies, humming against my skin, under the moonlight, I knew something a kin to love existed." - Serena Lawrynce, "Wednesday"
Bliss. The music radiating from his room had sounded like the celestial choirs of cherub angel, fluttering their silk wings and giggling madly at the hilarity of life. From my windowsill, I, a complete stranger, watch cautiously as he played "bliss" on his grand piano from the other window, so unaware that his music was my only life supply.
I, Serena Lawrynce, was nothing ordinary, or something extraordinarily freak-ish. Being born as a solemn orphan, I grew to find myself empty, acting empty, living the empty shell of life. Neither intellectual or gorgeous, my occupation and life orbited around my job at the metropolis Post Office, stamping envelopes for a living. I didn't mind; I didn't care about anything. Wake up to the morning sun. Go to work. Sleep. Always the same routine, that sometimes I bask at the idea that time really does pass.
I, Serena Lawrynce, with my 5 foot statue and non-vibrant flaxen hair woven in a loose braid every single day of my 23 year old life span, and to make the entire loner look complete, wore hideous, thick glasses that marred my non-existent beauty even more so. The funny thing is that I didn't care. However, one person and his luster for music had made me want to be more than this empty, pitiful excuse for a person, to be beautiful and charismatic, to be perfect for the mere reason that he might love me.
Love was always a stranger to me. But when I listen to him play those seductive melodies and harmonies, humming against my skin, under the moonlight, I knew something a kin to love existed. Even for an unlovable person like myself. Who is this person, this man, who broke the unattainable lack-luster surrounding the black hole of her heart and seized it with a simple glance?
He, an attractive man who loomed beyond my height at 6'3 and had raven locks that sprawled against his eyes just to have his hand brush it away, who with his love for playing the blessed piano had gained more than his pleasure, but hers as well. His name was Darien Shields as I recalled from the mailman who I had bantered with my indifferent eyes and eerie, hollow expression. Darien Shields, the man who lived across from me, worlds apart, with only a bridge of sound as a connection.
I sighed. To live this unrequited love was depressing, with my tears staining the cotton sheets and pillows as witness. I hated myself. I hated how unlovable I am.
Depressed, I did the unthinkable and doused my feelings in bottles upon bottles of beer, until my brain was equivalent to the trash and gossip around the post office on Tuesdays about their favorite topic: me. Damn. Today was Tuesday. Impulses took my actions over, with my body and mind doing separate humiliations, but my heart acting the most deadly of them all.
Tuesday. I hate Tuesdays. It seemed like Tuesdays have an unattainable grudge against me on Tuesdays, where all seems destined to do me wrong. Rained poured from the heavens, by the choirs of cherub angels weeping for the absence of the nightingale and his songs. I also wondered why he didn't play today, Tuesday of all days. This day has always been a "darker than pitch" day, but his play of nirvana would send a smile upon my dead slumber. Yet, today was different. Still under the spell of my anti- soberness, I went next door to ask my neighbor, probably the love of my life, the zest in which I live upon, to take my virginity for one night for I was going to die an old age, might as well have a night of passion before turning into a pure, adultered nun.
Wow, my sarcasm was really on full drive tonight. Noticeably, I knew the white night gown I wore had clung possessively to my skin, like a lover upon a virgin. I shivered. Lover, virgin. Darien, Serena. I staggered across the wet streets of the asphalt grounds, feet away from my destination while my good, common sense had seem to disappear, abandoning a drunk virgin with her sexy neighbor across from her apartment.
Once the door was in near sight, the knuckles had rapped a few times and got absolute silence. Then, impulse made my fist banged noisily on the cherry finish of the door, until it swung open to a very angered man. His face had an expression of annoyance, but had softened at my sight. A very strange sight it must be. He just lifted one of his boyish eyebrows in confusion, waiting for me to explain myself.
"'Lo there, Darien Shields. I was just wondering if you could fulfill my wish and take my virginity just for this night, due to the fact that I'm going to die without experiencing a drop of sex. You know all that stuff, don't you? You look the part, handsome, attractive, well built. Now, do me another favor, catch me when I fall . . ."
My voice had strained from the cold, the rain drenching my bones, chilling them into a shiver, and as I predicted, fell into the unconscious world of slumber, the darkness of my dream world embracing my feverish actions. I fell into a warm source of comfort, strong and possessive, only to find him embracing me to catch my wet, small body from breaking on the hard stone floor like a porcelain doll waiting to be loved.
Bunny: *giggle* Serena's taking a piss now. Muwahahaha. She got nothing to blackmail me with.
Serena: Remember the time when you pee-ed (what's the past tense of pee? peed? bird feed?) on the wall of McDonalds.
Bunny: So? I pee everywhere.
Serena: And the hobo slapped your butt?
Bunny: So?
Serena: *giggle hysterically*
Bunny: I did not get that. Thank you everybody! Review, read, and rolos! . Eco tray a heria. (Greak for "I have three testicles.) I love that movie. My Big Fat Greek Wedding is a must see. But no a must have, how many times can you laugh to an old lady who got caught in the sprinkler while trying to escape her house? Quite a lot actually.
Serena: Molerat. *giggles hysterically again and rolling on the floor like some freaky doormat*
Bunny: Help me. I'm stuck in a hellhole. Ahh! Serena's here. I really must be in hell. Why!?! I was a good girl. I never did anything bad, but attacking those lesbian Russian girl band on the stage. It was for a good cause. My eyes was burning from watching them tongue each other. Help me.
Five years later . . .
Serena: Molerat. *I don't want to type it again, you know what she does to annoy me*
Bunny: . . . kill me.
Serena: Mole-
Bunny: Shut the hell up. Take the damn gun and shoot me.
Serena: *shoots herself*
Bunny: Yeah. For the red, white, and blue.
Serena: I'm already dead. Opps, I forgot. Molerat.
Bunny: God.
Title: Tuesday's Child Authoress: Heidi Sigua Story Genre: Romance/Angst/Alternate Reality
Part One: Wednesday
"Love was always a stranger to me. But when I listen to him play those seductive melodies and harmonies, humming against my skin, under the moonlight, I knew something a kin to love existed." - Serena Lawrynce, "Wednesday"
Bliss. The music radiating from his room had sounded like the celestial choirs of cherub angel, fluttering their silk wings and giggling madly at the hilarity of life. From my windowsill, I, a complete stranger, watch cautiously as he played "bliss" on his grand piano from the other window, so unaware that his music was my only life supply.
I, Serena Lawrynce, was nothing ordinary, or something extraordinarily freak-ish. Being born as a solemn orphan, I grew to find myself empty, acting empty, living the empty shell of life. Neither intellectual or gorgeous, my occupation and life orbited around my job at the metropolis Post Office, stamping envelopes for a living. I didn't mind; I didn't care about anything. Wake up to the morning sun. Go to work. Sleep. Always the same routine, that sometimes I bask at the idea that time really does pass.
I, Serena Lawrynce, with my 5 foot statue and non-vibrant flaxen hair woven in a loose braid every single day of my 23 year old life span, and to make the entire loner look complete, wore hideous, thick glasses that marred my non-existent beauty even more so. The funny thing is that I didn't care. However, one person and his luster for music had made me want to be more than this empty, pitiful excuse for a person, to be beautiful and charismatic, to be perfect for the mere reason that he might love me.
Love was always a stranger to me. But when I listen to him play those seductive melodies and harmonies, humming against my skin, under the moonlight, I knew something a kin to love existed. Even for an unlovable person like myself. Who is this person, this man, who broke the unattainable lack-luster surrounding the black hole of her heart and seized it with a simple glance?
He, an attractive man who loomed beyond my height at 6'3 and had raven locks that sprawled against his eyes just to have his hand brush it away, who with his love for playing the blessed piano had gained more than his pleasure, but hers as well. His name was Darien Shields as I recalled from the mailman who I had bantered with my indifferent eyes and eerie, hollow expression. Darien Shields, the man who lived across from me, worlds apart, with only a bridge of sound as a connection.
I sighed. To live this unrequited love was depressing, with my tears staining the cotton sheets and pillows as witness. I hated myself. I hated how unlovable I am.
Depressed, I did the unthinkable and doused my feelings in bottles upon bottles of beer, until my brain was equivalent to the trash and gossip around the post office on Tuesdays about their favorite topic: me. Damn. Today was Tuesday. Impulses took my actions over, with my body and mind doing separate humiliations, but my heart acting the most deadly of them all.
Tuesday. I hate Tuesdays. It seemed like Tuesdays have an unattainable grudge against me on Tuesdays, where all seems destined to do me wrong. Rained poured from the heavens, by the choirs of cherub angels weeping for the absence of the nightingale and his songs. I also wondered why he didn't play today, Tuesday of all days. This day has always been a "darker than pitch" day, but his play of nirvana would send a smile upon my dead slumber. Yet, today was different. Still under the spell of my anti- soberness, I went next door to ask my neighbor, probably the love of my life, the zest in which I live upon, to take my virginity for one night for I was going to die an old age, might as well have a night of passion before turning into a pure, adultered nun.
Wow, my sarcasm was really on full drive tonight. Noticeably, I knew the white night gown I wore had clung possessively to my skin, like a lover upon a virgin. I shivered. Lover, virgin. Darien, Serena. I staggered across the wet streets of the asphalt grounds, feet away from my destination while my good, common sense had seem to disappear, abandoning a drunk virgin with her sexy neighbor across from her apartment.
Once the door was in near sight, the knuckles had rapped a few times and got absolute silence. Then, impulse made my fist banged noisily on the cherry finish of the door, until it swung open to a very angered man. His face had an expression of annoyance, but had softened at my sight. A very strange sight it must be. He just lifted one of his boyish eyebrows in confusion, waiting for me to explain myself.
"'Lo there, Darien Shields. I was just wondering if you could fulfill my wish and take my virginity just for this night, due to the fact that I'm going to die without experiencing a drop of sex. You know all that stuff, don't you? You look the part, handsome, attractive, well built. Now, do me another favor, catch me when I fall . . ."
My voice had strained from the cold, the rain drenching my bones, chilling them into a shiver, and as I predicted, fell into the unconscious world of slumber, the darkness of my dream world embracing my feverish actions. I fell into a warm source of comfort, strong and possessive, only to find him embracing me to catch my wet, small body from breaking on the hard stone floor like a porcelain doll waiting to be loved.
Bunny: *giggle* Serena's taking a piss now. Muwahahaha. She got nothing to blackmail me with.
Serena: Remember the time when you pee-ed (what's the past tense of pee? peed? bird feed?) on the wall of McDonalds.
Bunny: So? I pee everywhere.
Serena: And the hobo slapped your butt?
Bunny: So?
Serena: *giggle hysterically*
Bunny: I did not get that. Thank you everybody! Review, read, and rolos! . Eco tray a heria. (Greak for "I have three testicles.) I love that movie. My Big Fat Greek Wedding is a must see. But no a must have, how many times can you laugh to an old lady who got caught in the sprinkler while trying to escape her house? Quite a lot actually.
Serena: Molerat. *giggles hysterically again and rolling on the floor like some freaky doormat*
Bunny: Help me. I'm stuck in a hellhole. Ahh! Serena's here. I really must be in hell. Why!?! I was a good girl. I never did anything bad, but attacking those lesbian Russian girl band on the stage. It was for a good cause. My eyes was burning from watching them tongue each other. Help me.
Five years later . . .
Serena: Molerat. *I don't want to type it again, you know what she does to annoy me*
Bunny: . . . kill me.
Serena: Mole-
Bunny: Shut the hell up. Take the damn gun and shoot me.
Serena: *shoots herself*
Bunny: Yeah. For the red, white, and blue.
Serena: I'm already dead. Opps, I forgot. Molerat.
Bunny: God.