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sapphequinox · 7 years

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Lunar Violet: Chapter 1

Content Warning and Foreword: Just don’t read this. Seriously. One night instead of venting into a journal nobody would ever read, I decided to channel my turmoil and restlessness into a work of fiction. The result we have here is the first chapter of a hopefully not ongoing series, which if I write another word of it will be an anthology of short stories chronicling the lives of the people that live in a small town with a population of exactly 26 people. I will repeat in clear terms that this is in no way autobiographical in any way. For realsies. Also this is my “After Hours” blog now, which means this is now the destination for everything I decide to put out on this site that I deem not suited for display on my main blog. You have been warned.

Well, I guess it started that one night. Yeah, that was about the time, I’ll start there. I found myself hunched over my desk, passively scribbling away under the soft orange lamplight. Since my chair faced out the attic window, I always had a clear view of my muse at night: the bare neighborhood streets, free from the burden of its residents. Streetlights hummed and cicadas sang, providing the soundtrack to my work.

I’m not sure why, but at approximately 10:33 that night I’d felt an incredibly strong urge to write. Just write. I hadn’t any particular ideas of what exactly I was to write, but I’d decided that I was indeed going to use a pen to create a story upon paper. And so far it was going spectacularly. I’d gotten off to a shaky beginning, testing out different ideas to see if any broad concepts could draw some inspiration out of me. A cyberpunk space romance, historical fiction comedy set in East Asia, so on and so forth. I’d eventually decided on “Effervescent Gamble: Furtive Adventures in Neo Tokyo”. I’ll be honest and tell you that I’d come up with the title before the concept, and at the moment was going through the tasking process of doing the name justice.

Upon realizing that I’d been sitting and thinking about not being able to think about anything for quite awhile now, I decided to quit writing. Again. Defeated, yet still stirring with my lust for creativity and self-expression, my next course of action was to rise out from my slumped position out of my chair, and subsequently fall face first onto my bed. As I rolled over to examine my ceiling as I often do, I was once again prompted by a sheet of paper taped up there asking a question I’d mulled over many a night: “Should I masturbate?”

I thought this through carefully, eventually coming to the logical conclusion that, since I had no desire to sleep or play video games or go find drugs, the best course of action would indeed be to masturbate. Yet the struggles of a young man such as myself are never so short lived, as I had no material with which to aid my impulses. You see, back in the early 2000’s, I did not have the infinite library of smut, filth and gratification that is instantly available to me today. The family computer was downstairs, and my mother was downstairs. You see the dilemma.

Anyways, my first course of action was to sit back up and crouch down at the bottom of my desk, sliding open the black square drawer containing my magazines and graphic novels. I pulled out all the novels that were especially more graphic than the others, and laid them out on my bed.

I picked up the leftmost one I’d put down after sliding the drawer back closed with my foot. Izuremata’s Muffin Appreciation Club. This copy actually had a signature on the inner cover from the author, which upon opening the book I rediscovered alongside the slip of paper that fluttered out of the pages. I examined the paper.

Main chick’s got huge tits, lots of sexy stuff. Got this signed by the legend himself at L.A., enjoy. ~ Dad

What the fuck. I decided to put the note back and pick up the next book. It was one of my old favorites, Danger Squid Girl 32. I flipped to the folded page and sank into the bed, sliding my sweatpants down to my ankles.

My door flung open, the knob kicking up dust and fragments of drywall as it crashed against the wall. My mom, Eliana stood in the doorway, panting.

I set down the book on my stomach. “I’m looking at porn, what do you want?”

“Keith, there’s been an accident, down the street.” She looked out the window nervously. “Your dad went out earlier, and he hasn’t come back, and…”

“If you’re scared that it’s him, just go yourself already. You’ll have more time to pay your respects that way before they drag him to the station and beat him to death.”

This visibly upset her. “Keith, that’s not how it works, and you know I don’t do well with this sort of thi…” As often happened, she wasn’t able to finish her sentence, the last few words painfully choked with pain and fear, frustrated tears building up behind her innocent amber eyes. Giving up all semblance of authority, she slowly walked over and fell onto my bed, exploding into a fit of rattling sobs.

This made me feel awkward with my Pokemon boxers bulging with the power of my raw, unbridled cock, so I stood up and pulled my pants back up to my waist before sitting back down and offering a confused, reluctant arm around her shoulder. “I’m sure dad isn’t dead, Mom.”

This did not seem to stop her incessant crying.

“Would it make you feel better if I went down the street and checked by myself?”

She collected enough of herself to tone the hysterics down to a helpless whimpering, punctuated by the occasional heavy sob, just long enough to give a simple nod and look of thanks. The facade collapsed immediately as I rose to adorn my silk, velvet bathrobe, adorned in gold on the back with the text “If You’re Reading This, Take Me Now”.

“It’s your dad, alright.” The officer took an apathetic glance at the smouldering wreckage before going back to scribbling in his notepad.

“What?!” You stare into the flames, eyes widening with confusion and disbelief. “How?! Look at it! Have you even checked?!”

He put his notepad into his pocket before turning to face me, leaning against the trunk of the police car. “I mean, I’m not about to just go in and check myself kid, fire is hot.”

“Then how can you know?”

“Keith, come on. There’s like twenty people in town, I checked and all of them are accounted for except your pops. And if we had a visitor,” he he said, pointing his pen at his badge, “I’d have noticed them.”

I cursed the abnormal population density. “I can’t believe it…” I slowly sank to the gravelly street, coming to a rest with my arms around my knees. “I knew my dad would die before I moved out of the house, but… I never thought about how I’d have to actually be there for it.”

“Let me tell you, kid, that really sucks.” He took a sip of his Red Bull and wiped his nose with the mittened hand holding it. “You’re an unlucky boy. My dad died from overdosing on tapeworm tablets while I was fucking a sixty year old prostitute in Indonesia during a college trip. I didn’t even have to deal with the guilt I would have had if cell phones had existed back then, as I would have no doubt received a text or call notifying me of my father’s death either while I was fucking her, or while I was sneaking out of the brothel.”

I ignored his words of comfort, staring deeply into the ember-lit tar of the street, blackened by the ash of the man who never taught me how to play baseball, which I used often to lie to myself that he was the sole reason I never got into sports.

The officer slowly eased off the trunk and crushed the can of Red Bull against his flat forehead, wiping the sugary nectar off his pornstache before tossing the can into the enormous fire, which persisted without anyone seemingly giving a shit. “Well, It’s getting late, it’s about time I was off.”

I finally looked up, catching his retreating gaze. “Wait, you’re leaving? You’re not going to call in anybody to put out the fire, or try and search for clues to make sure nothing weird happened?” I pointed to his coat pocket, rising to my feet. “I saw you writing in that notepad earlier, is that just for show?”

“I’m just the guy that makes sure we don’t have to get insurance involved.” With that word, he turned around and hopped into the driver’s seat before silently drifting away, out of my life forever.

I thundered up the porch steps, every essence of my being brimming with bitter, misguided determination. After flinging the heavy oak door open and storming down the entrance hallway, I turned to walk through the kitchen and sat down in the chair in front of the family computer, entering the password all in one swift motion.

Password123

Without a moment’s hesitation, I dramatically drove the cursor over the closest word processing application, double clicking and immediately doubling down over the keyboard as the document opened up, furiously drumming my sweaty fingers against the keys, the covers for some flying off in fragments as I channeled my overwhelming resentment into every word I recklessly strummed out. My hatred and remorse quickly began to weave an immense, artful tapestry of contempt for everything ever conceived or heard of. The computer began to levitate from the clock speeds of the CPU, struggling to keep up with the rapid output of pure, disgusting rage as I indented paragraph after paragraph of my deepest, darkest true emotions.

After I’d hit the 10,000 word mark after about three minutes, I minimized the window and opened up the web browser, navigating to the first hardcore porn site I could think of and smashing my head into the keyboard, and then clicking on the first thing my headbanging conjured up in the site’s search engine.

My senses were blinded by foul darkness and corruption, I channeled the dark lord himself through my numb lust as I ripped my pants off, gripping my member with the strength of a billion suns as I rubbed myself like a piston on steroids and coke to the senseless kaleidoscope of colors and moaning that my distorted state of mind perceived the smut as. Inside my brain towers collapsed, universes imploded, nebulae died. For that brief moment, I was a god. I looked over my vast domain, effortlessly comprehending and calculating every galaxy I cast my all-knowing gaze over. I witnessed civilizations rise, empires fall. I clipped my toenails and hurled them into the ether, my tremendous, ethereal biceps rippling with holy power. Distant solar systems exploded as I rubbed myself under my billowing toga, crying tears of blood and liquid gold, each droplet creating a universe as they fell to the bottom of the void.

At least, that’s what I felt like should have happened.

I solemnly trudged up the cement stairs, limply gripping the door handle as I pushed into the entrance hallway. I was going to go back up to my room to write some more, but my mother encountered me before I even made it to the staircase.

“What happened, Keithy?” She looked down at me with her innocent, hopeful eyes, soon to be weighed down by the weight of my next sentence. I could barely manage.

“Yeah it’s him. His charred corpse is probably still somewhere in the burning wreckage out there. I doubt they’re going to stomp it out anytime tonight.” Unexpectedly, I began to choke on my words as I struggled to get them out, tears welling in my eyes both from the weight of what I was saying, and the realization that I was in fact my mother’s child. Potent, fermented tears began to stream down my hot cheeks, and I backed against the front door, sliding to a sitting position as my arms went limp at my sides, allowing myself to finally dissipate my supply of all the built up tears from years of anguish and depression.

My keen mother Eliana noticed this, and walked down to the front door, crouching down to my position and ruffling my hair. “There there, Keith. It’s okay, I’m still here.”

This didn’t make me feel much better. In fact, I felt worse upon remembering that my father was actually the parent I liked more, or resented less. In a sudden burst of sad, angry and weirdly sexual passion I launched off down the hallway, pushing my mother aside as I ran up the staircase, going off to sulk and be edgy in my room as I often did. Granted, this time I had a really good reason to do so, which I often use to convince myself that I’m not a terrible person, even though deep down I know that I hated my father almost as much as my mother, and really just hated my entire fucking life in general but was too afraid of pain to just end it all and jam a kitchen knife into my fucking throat and die.

#writing #trash #lunar violet

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fightingthetides · 5 months

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For the accompanying drabble to go along with the first one: [x] Just another part of me trying a lil test.

As per usual, Yamamoto went for an early morning jog as part of his conditioning regimen. It was important to him to keep in shape as well as making sure to set some time aside to lose himself in his thoughts.

He may be the Rain Guardian, but that didn’t mean he was always calm and gentle. He also had a side to him that could be dangerous and cold like the biting rain.

“Oh? Yamamoto-kun! Good morning!” A familiar and friendly voice calls out to him from behind and he slowly brings his pace to a halt, allowing for Haru to catch up to him. He didn’t expect to see a familiar face this morning, but it’s a nice change of pace to have a break in the usual routine.

“Mornin’! What are you doing out so early in the day? I thought I was going to see you at Tsuna’s place yesterday.” It was a common occurrence for them all to congregate at Tsuna’s place after school. Haru wasn’t always a presence at the Sawada household (she was a busy person), but she did try to drop by as much as she could before she had to leave for whatever it was she was doing.

It was either her needing to run errands, or going to tutoring lessons. Some days, she wouldn’t come over because she had her own club activities to attend to. Gokudera was the one who would make some kind of comment about how he wasn’t sure if Haru could even perform gymnastics properly.

He could only picture her messing up.

Haru did have a bit of a clumsy streak, he couldn’t deny that, haha. Still, it was clear that Haru had a streak of athleticism to her as well as an adventurous heart that paired well with her sense of dramatics. It’s always a surprise to know she’s not in the drama club rather than being someone who helps them with costumes from time to time.

Yesterday was one of the days Haru normally would have dropped by, yelled at Gokudera for bullying Lambo, and then play with the kid to allow the guys some peace while trying to finish their homework. It wasn’t to say that he only missed her presence because Lambo made focusing on their homework harder.

It wasn’t right to view her that way- but it always felt like something was missing if she wasn’t around to play with Lambo and I-pin.

A dramatic sniff.

“You see… Haru got caught by Hibari-san yesterday. She was forced into servitude for a few hours, so she wasn’t able to find time to visit Tsuna-san yesterday. A shame too, because she wanted to see Lambo-chan and I-pin chan.”

Startled, Yamamoto’s eyebrows furrowed with worry. Was Haru forced into servitude for hours? That didn’t seem very much like-

“Hahi! Haru is joking, you know? She wasn’t forced to work for nothing. She got to play with the hibirds. They’re very cute, you know?” He watched as she nervously flailed her arms around as if she’s frantically trying to clear Hibari’s name.

The athlete couldn’t help but chuckle quietly to himself. Sometwaswas hard to tell when Haru was being serious and when she was overexaggerating something for dramatic flair. Even if she was being dramatic, there was always some truth to what she was saying. ‘She probably was asked to something menial as punishment for trespassing. Hibari doesn’t act violently so thoughtlessly.’

Sure, Hibari Kyouya was known for having a temper and a penchant for violence, but it normally was warranted, albeit a bit extreme at times. He still upheld a level of decorum as the face of Namimori. He wasn’t a mindless thug like some people made him out to be.

If you were to ask Yamamoto, the guy acted violently based on necessity, and his mood. As a disciplinary officer, it was his duty to discipline unruly students and rule breakers. Some people don’t learn unless you beat it into them, and that’s probably what Hibari was doing—or so Yamamoto always hypothesized. He didn’t torment children, animals, and girls without a good reason for doing so.

There were some exceptions like the kid or Adelheid. Hibari’s patience towards animals was on another level. Looking at Haru again, an image of her eating her fill of cakes on appreciation day come to mind. ‘She does look like a hamster.’

Aside from the fact she wasn’t a student of Namimori and therefore outside of his jurisdiction (not that it would stop him anyways), maybe Haru’s hamster-like nature was a reason she would be spared from much of Hibari’s violent and scary outbursts. Her politeness should curb some of his anger to some extent.

“Haha, how did you get ‘caught’ by him anyways? Were you okay?” Knowing how Haru could be, if she was caught by Hibari and subsequently threatened/warned, she may have broken down into tears. The way she could go into hysterics at a flip of a switch was impressive by all means—but that also would piss off Hibari, no doubt.

He notes the way she blinks a few times in confusion, tilting her head in confusion. She looked like she was confused by his asking if she was okay. Was that not the normal response one would give when told ‘I got caught by Hibari’? Surely Tsuna would’ve been asking her a million questions out of concern by now.

“Haru is okay. Haru has been accosted by the disciplinary committee before for trespassing, but she’s not faced any harm.”

This wasn’t her first time being caught by Hibari or the other disciplinary committee members? How many times has it been already? Haru Miura was quite bold to repeatedly trespass onto Namimori grounds.

“Haru sometimes drops off some treats for the birds when she has some time, but other times, Haru gets caught trespassing and she’s told to watch over the birds for a time.”

Hm? Doesn’t that mean that Haru has spent some time with Hibari without the rest of them knowing about it? How long has this been going on for? Somehow, Haru visiting to play with the birds didn’t seem unheard of. Haru has before walked up to the others and ask them to bring out their box animals to give them some pets. What was it she says all the time?

“You know, your box animals work so hard! They deserve to be spoiled every once in a while. Let them have some fresh air without the need to jump right into battle! So, Gokudera-san, bring out Uri. Haru brought fish treats for her.”

Wasn’t it Haru that coined the name Hibird for Hibari’s yellow buddies? What was their relationship that a nickname Haru came up with actually stuck?

“That reminds me, you were the one who coined the name ‘Hibird’ for his birds, weren’t you?”

“Oh!” She claps her hands with excitement. “Haru has always seen the bird perched on his shoulder or on top of his head. It always calls him like ‘Hibari, Hibari!’ It’s really cute.”

It was cute watching her mimic the yellow birds by flapping her hands like they were wings. Somehow that solidifies his theory that Haru is just a small animal that you’d feel bad for biting to death.

“It’s like… a pocket monster. Haru thought that ‘Hibird’ was a cute and fitting name. Somehow the name stuck.”

Never mind, there is a valid chance that she could get herself beaten to death if she voices half the things she thinks aloud. He’s sure that she’s smart enough to know what not to say around Hibari. All the horror stories Tsuna has told her about Hibari’s ‘violent tyranny’ probably had an impact on her.

‘Not enough to keep her away from Namimori or the birds, though.’ He mentally laughs at the thought. Was it that she was just bold or that cute things outweighed her fear? ‘With how Haru isn’t afraid to slap a future mafia boss because he was being a bad influence on kids, she probably thought cute birds outweighed Hibari’s scariness’.

Right you are, Yamamoto. Right you are.

“Sounds like you’re getting along with him just fine. Just be careful not to wake him. He gets cranky from what I hear. Aside from that, he’s not a scary guy.” In fact, Hibari is a reliable guy so as long as you don’t get on his bad side. It was always a relief to have him on your side when in battle, but it was also exciting when he was on the opposite team as well.

The memory of when Hibari joined Fon’s ‘team’ surfaces to the forefront of his mind and it brought about a bubbling sense of amusement from deep in his chest. That Hibari, he loved fighting too much. He gets it though.

Yamamoto would love to play baseball with all the teams in Japan and outside of the country as well! He loved baseball and testing out his skills against different players meant that he could potentially elevate his own level by broadening his horizons. How was it any different from when Hibari wanted to fight against strong fighters even if he may be at a disadvantage? You only improve by struggling and trying hard.

‘It does make it hard to coordinate with him though.’

That said, Hibari was a pretty simple guy as long as you knew what made him tick. As long as Haru was respectful, minded her volume, and continued to be nice to his birds, she should be fine. Yamamoto trusted that Hibari wouldn’t enact senseless violence on an innocent hamster-like Haru. He’d have severely misjudged Hibari if she ever does face harm by Hibari’s hand, however.

Haru playfully salutes, “Roger~ Haru will heed your advice. Haru won’t keep you from your morning jog for much longer. See you next time~” Haru waves him off and she starts walking off in another direction. He sets off on his jog again, starting slow before warming back up to a brisk jog.

“I didn’t know they got along that well that he allows her to play with his birds.” It didn’t seem like Hibari would allow the birds to associate with just any random person. Haru is a rather sociable person, so maybe she somehow warmed up to Hibari enough that he was willing to let her play with the birds.

“Is she changing targets?” He shakes his head and laughs, “Haru would hit me if I actually thought that.” The girl was wholeheartedly faithful to Tsuna, even if he didn’t pay her any attention. He offers her a silent apology in his head for doubting her for even a second.

He knows just how much she likes Tsuna and how despite knowing he’s obsessed with Kyoko, she wants to keep trying so she can proudly state that she did all she could before giving up.

That, is a story for another time.

Yamamoto enjoys the crisp morning air and continues on his jog, smiling when he sees a bird flying overhead. “A shame it isn’t one of his buddies.”

#Neo drabble #Neo Test Muse Not Actually Available Yet #Yamamoto the rain - test #((Mmmnnn... I think... this might work. I think I may be able to find his voice))#((Me writing this out so then I can use it for an ongoing thread? YOU BET!!!!!!!! I take advantage of anything I can))#((I SAW MY CHANCE AND I TOOK IT KEKEKEKEK))#((So anyways-- he'll likely be an exclusive muse unless people express interest in him. Then he'll be request only))#((Again no icons bc lazy))

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