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panticwritten · 6 years ago

Note

Writing request! Carl and Sawyer (some version of you, I’m not sure where Carl usually fits in) have stumbled into the same dungeons and dragons forum and become closer through battling together (not 100% sure of Carl’s personality, be him not the type for this or totally the type). This can be a silly throw away or warmup up one since it is me.

Okay, so Cherry sent me this like forever ago. I wrote it, they read it because they live with me, but I forgot to actually post it! The name change to Kane is going smoothly, and I’m ready to never think about that asshole as Karl again lmaooooo

So, yeah, Kane and I play some DnD and he’s not subtle about anything ever at all.

I’ll have to wait until after I post this to change the colors of the different people in the text chats because lord knows I look at those strings of chat-text and have a time sifting through it. Homestuck has spoiled me.

Word count: 2270

@asinwolves @avi-burton-writing @infinitelyblankpage @no-url-ideas-tho @jade-island-lives @ravenpuffwriter @spirit-wizard-nerd @steakfryday @alextriestowritestuff @cataclystr0phe @perringwrites @davidvalencia323 @fluffpiggy @dont-trust-the-clogs @authorkimberlygrey @aclassilighthouse @cherrytying

I don’t think Kane knows I know.

If the smattering of ‘kid’ in our correspondences hadn’t tipped me off, it would definitely have been the way he made his character. I doubt anyone else would get the joke or see what he’s doing, but seriously? His character isn’t anything like him, of course.

If he were to be himself, he’d be a tiefling fighter. Either scout (ha) or cavalier archetype. He’d be a faction agent. Making a call between the chaotic alignments might be a shaky one sometimes. His attributes terribly skewed toward charisma and dexterity.

But he’s chosen a true neutral urchin. A mastermind rogue. An eladrin. The attributes are fairly balanced, save for dexterity always hovering above the others and strength a little lacking. Nothing like Kane. Not at all.

No, that’s the point.

He made a character that is exactly what I end up presenting myself as in the damn Cube. How I always play in console RPGs. Behavior just not erratic enough to be chaotic. Snarky and angry, never overtly because of the need to cover every goddamn emotion up. Inconsistent.

I’m not sure when I realized it was him. I thought it might be a member of the Collective when I first got the invitation from an unknown player. With Haz, j355, Hal, and Jax as mods of the server and tag-teaming as DMs, I slowly caught on to Kane’s game.

He’s making fun of me. He must have been playing with this character for some time, with their high level, and I wonder how long he’s been planning this.

It took me a little bit to even realize most of the similarities between myself and the character. My own character, a homebrew ice genesai, a brawler, bonded fairly quickly with them because they’re both urchins and saved each others’ asses when their time in the city overlapped.

He uses my lines, though. The whole ‘I’ll be fine’ shtick and his character has mentioned being a poet several times. After that, it took a few more days of play to start realizing it was him. That it was Kane playing such a long game.

The first time it occured to me, it was a bad call on what the endolin would do. We were looking for the deed to a seemingly abandoned manor. We hadn’t run into anything but low-level scavenging animals. In short, any good player would be a little on-edge and I was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Halexander (MOD): Alright. The second you both clear the door, it slams shut behind you.Match (SeeSaw): Crap.Videre (ANON): whats in the room?Halexander (MOD): It’s a pretty nondescript room. Pretty small, almost looks like a study with three desks lining one wall and a bookshelf on another. There’s a couch shoved into a corner, looks like it was slept in recently.Match (SeeSaw): Can we roll investigation real quick?Halexander (MOD): Go for it, dude.Match (SeeSaw): 5Halexander (MOD): You notice that, unlike the rest of the place, there’s no dust. The whole room is swept clean of it. That’s it. The epitome of observation.Match (SeeSaw): Okay. Videre?Videre (ANON): nah im goodHalexander (MOD): You sure? Just gonna barge in there?Videre (ANON): the doors locked right what else can we do?Match (SeeSaw): Whatever. I’ll get a closer look at the couch.Videre (ANON): imma look at the closest desk while the kid does thatMatch (SeeSaw): Fuck youHalexander (MOD): I’ll put some form of that exchange as being in character.Match (SeeSaw): GoodMatch (SeeSaw): Now, the couchHalexander (MOD): To clarify, you’re both investigating different areas of the room?Match (SeeSaw): YesVidere (ANON): yeahHalexander (MOD): Excellent.

I was so used to the DMs at least pretending to need time to formulate responses that Hal’s immediate block of text took me by surprise.

Halexander (MOD): The two of you cross the room in different directions, as if by silent agreement. Match is slower, being more hesitant, so Videre gets to the desks first. Before you can do more than peer at the desk, however, there is a cry behind you. The bedding on the couch lashed out and has taken Match captive. Match, a blanket has one wrist and a facemask has bound itself over your eyes due to your proximity when the animation first occurred. Roll Initiative.Match (SeeSaw): Whaaaaat. Not cool. Okay, 16.Halexander (MOD): Enchanted Bedding got 12.Halexander (MOD): Videre?Videre (ANON): am i far enough away that i can stay out of order and keep looking through the drawers?

Uh.

Match (SeeSaw): What the fuck. I’m being attacked here, your rapier would take care of this in like two seconds.Videre (ANON): you dont know that. i have a feeling the deeds in here just give me a minuteHalexander (MOD): You can stay out of the fight if you want, but you still need to roll so we can keep this orderly.Videre (ANON): fineVidere (ANON): 8Halexander (MOD): Thanks for cooperating.Match (SeeSaw): Okay, first off, Match is never going to trust you again.Videre (ANON): he doesnt even know im helping yet. he cant see rememberMatch (SeeSaw): WHATEVERMatch (SeeSaw): Is the blanket pulling on me or just holding me there?Halexander (MOD): It’s tugging something fierce. The rest of the pile of blankets and pillows are writhing as if alive.Match (SeeSaw): I guess I’ll attack the blanket with that dinky little knife.Match (SeeSaw): “you should empty your bag in case you find good loot” THANKS VIDERE NOW I DONT HAVE MY GOOD WEAPONSVidere (ANON): hey you should know better than to listen to me by now kidMatch (SeeSaw): When we finish this, I will find you and kill you.Halexander (MOD): Also canon, in-character dialogue.Match (SeeSaw): YEET, crit. 5 damageMatch (SeeSaw): Don’t think you’re off the hook here, HalHalexander (MOD): I resent that.Halexander (MOD): And that’s including your proficiency?Match (SeeSaw): 6 damage.Halexander (MOD): That’s what I thought.Halexander (MOD): You slash blindly at the blanket. You manage to cut the corner holding you clean off. You’re still blinded, but you’re free to move.Match (SeeSaw): OKAY YEAH I BACK THE FUCK UP AND ASK VIDERE WHAT THE FUCK THEYRE DOINGHalexander (MOD): You stumble back into the door.Match (SeeSaw): Hold up just a fucking second

I scrolled up to reread the chat.

Match (SeeSaw): Can I try opening the door?Halexander (MOD): Unfortunately, you’ve exhausted your turn. The mass of blankets shoots out another piece but cannot quite reach you in its haste. Obviously, you don’t actually see this because: The blindfold begins to tighten around your eyes. That’s it for that, what’s next on the agenda?Videre (ANON): how many of these drawers could i search in one turn?Halexander (MOD): Two.Videre (ANON): how many drawers in each desk?Halexander (MOD):Three.Videre (ANON): ill search two drawers in the first deskHalexander (MOD): Alrighty then. The first drawer is full of vials and tubes. Most of them stand empty, but there is a vial each of blue, red, and orange liquid. The second contains a weathered journal.Videre (ANON): ill snag those three vials and pocket the journalHalexander (MOD):Of course you will.Match (SeeSaw): Can I open the door now.Halexander (MOD): Since Sherlock Holmes over here can’t do much else, I’ll bite. The door, amazingly, shockingly, opens once you manage to find it with the blindfold currently limiting your sight and putting increasing pressure on your skull.Match (SeeSaw): Okay, we’re dumb.Match (SeeSaw): Videre, the door’s open, let’s get the hell out of here!Videre (ANON): im not doneMatch (SeeSaw): Are you serious right now.Halexander (MOD): Better make the rest of your turn good.Match (SeeSaw): K. I cut the string on the blindfold and join that IDIOT at the desksHalexander (MOD): I’m honestly just gonna take that as a free action.Match (SeeSaw): Sweet. Can I search a drawer?Halexander (MOD): You definitely can.Match (SeeSaw): I’ll start on the middle desk, I guess.Match (SeeSaw): I’ll deal with YOU later, VidereVidere (ANON): looking forward to itHalexander (MOD): The drawer holds a dusty lab coat. That’s it.Match (SeeSaw):Why the fuck not, I’ll take it.Halexander (MOD): You done?Halexander (MOD): Just kidding, I know you are. The blanket wraps around your ankle to pull your feet out from under you. Roll for acrobatics to see if you eat shit.Match (SeeSaw): Jesus fuck.Match (SeeSaw): 10Halexander (MOD): You slam your face into the desk on the way down. Take 1d4 damage for that, and your nose is bleeding.Match (SeeSaw): Why are you doing this to me.Halexander (MOD): You chose to let me design this campaign. What did you think would happen?Match (SeeSaw):2Halexander (MOD): While you’re down, another blanket catches you by the wrist. Again. Go, Videre.Videre (ANON): two more drawersHalexander (MOD): The first is full of pieces of metal. Mostly junk, nuts and bolts. The second is empty, so I’ll knock the action down and let you open another one.Match (SeeSaw): IF YOU WANT TO KEEP YOUR HANDS AFTER THIS YOU WILL HELP ME RIGHT NOWVidere (ANON): yeah ill open another drawer. that leaves three left right

They searched every single drawer before helping me, by which time I was almost dead and being smothered by a pillow. They found the deed and I chewed them out on the way back to town. They said they knew I would be fine, they needed to find the deed, and there was no harm done.

Having already seen the parallels this anonymous player was making between their character and myself, I bristled at my computer.

Match (SeeSaw): Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing. You won’t stay anonymous forever.Videre (ANON): oh im so scaredVidere (ANON): are you gonna come kick the shit out of me over a dumb game? give it up and find something else to obsess over if youre gonna be like that kidVidere (ANON): im just staying in character

And I had a good idea who was on the other side of the computer after that. Especially after I found out he’d done a covert investigation check with Hal instead of sharing with me. He knew there was an enemy in the room before we even entered. Was likely planning on using me as a distraction from the beginning.

The next time he surprised me, we were working for the owner of an orphanage to find ways to exploit parents interested in adoption. Match goes along with it because why not. Also because fuck adults.

But Videre surprised both me and Jax.

Jaxabandit (MOD): u want to what?Videre (ANON): buy the orphanageMatch (SeeSaw): We won’t get paid if you do that.Videre (ANON): im gonna assume that was in character and not in this whole ‘ooc’ space or whateverMatch (SeeSaw): Duh. The guy’s slimy and gross. But just because you have money doesn’t mean Match does. He needs the paycheck.Videre (ANON): think of it this wayVidere (ANON): if dicks like this werent in power match wouldnt have grown up on the streetsMatch (SeeSaw): That’s not how he thinks about shit and you know it.Videre (ANON): and hes not the one holding a huge sack of gold right now

I didn’t know what to think. By this point, I knew it was Kane. The fact that I asked Haz helps, but I know the way he talks to me. He’s the only one that would do this and keep up with it for so long.

So now, I’m not exactly sure what to do.

Match just died, like D-E-D, dead, and Videre is flipping the fuck out. The two of them had become fairly close friends. They were snarky and prickly toward each other, but they were partners in crime and would likely kill for each other.

Videre gets really scary in the final stretch of that fight.

I didn’t realize Kane thought so highly of my intimidation skills. I didn’t think he thought highly of me at all, not outside of work. I was just a tool and a weapon and something to either give orders to or take orders from.

But Videre is a force of nature toward the end. Being a mastermind rogue, they confuse the ice devil as well as fighting it. They show a lot of skill they didn’t before, turning a few unlucky rolls into happy mistakes. Even they seem surprised when they win.

Videre (ANON): wellVidere (ANON): i guess i know what its like to be you nowThe Old Hazzle Dazzle (MOD): Are you done now, Kane?Videre (ANON): wow cats out of the bagMatch (SeeSaw): You’re awful at hiding who you are, though.Match (SeeSaw): Also, you’re an assholeThe Old Hazzle Dazzle (MOD): Did you want to make a new character and keep going? Or call it quits for now?Match (SeeSaw): I think I’m done. I gotta go challenge Kane to a fist fight.Videre (ANON):gotta find me first

- Videre (ANON): has left the chat -

He’ll have to try a hell of a lot harder than that to get out of actually hanging out with me like a person.

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pocket-elf · 7 years ago

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Music questionnaire/tag game

@centaine tagged basically anyone/everyone and why not? I know I’ve done this several years ago (or at least something similar), so gonna try to throw in some more recent loves. And not do it in any kind of order to maybe shake things up in the questions… and you know what, I had a bit of a hard time thinking of bands/artists I really like right now, so threw in some composers.

Also, after answering what I copied form Samy I noticed that I never answered anything for 4, so I googled and found a longer version, including the same questions I answered + more. So I added those where they are in the other versions I found!

Music Questionnaire

List 10 artists you like before answering the questions below.

Josh Groban Ruelle PTX Bear McCreary Hozier Bruce Springsteen First Aid Kit Superfruit Hans Zimmer Tom Waits

What was the first song you ever heard by 6?

Absolutely no clue. Cause I was a kid. What I do vividly remember is lying on the floor in the living room, listening to the Born in the USA LP.

What is your favourite song of 8?

I think the choir remix of Future Friends. Closely followed by GUY.exe

What kind of impact has 1 left on your life?

Not sure. One of the very few I’ve seen in concert, and twice. And I guess that has opened my eyes to what concerts can be like with popular artists and how they don’t have to be like maybe I once thought? And I guess helping me stay in contact with one of my classmates, through shared appreciation for his music (she’s pretty much a hardcore fan. I’m a more casual one)

What are your favorite lyrics of 5?

That is… super hard. I love his creepy romantic stuff, so lets go with:

And they'd find us in a week When the cattle'd show fear After the insects have made their claim After the foxes have known our taste I'd be home with you, I'd be home with you

How many times have you seen 2 live?

None. Don’t know if I care to tbh.

What is your favourite song by 7? (need to mention that I haven’t listened to their latest album yet due to being too deeply into other music. But I will eventually. Just saying that those songs were not included when considering this)

Maybe Emmylou? Or This Old Routine, or Wolf. I also really love their covers of Red Dirt Girl and Universal Soldier.

Is there any song by 3 that makes you sad?

Just the other day Standing By made me cry sooooo. But in general no, their music doesn’t make me sad. Standing By is a beautiful song that in itself shouldn’t make me too sad, but I just remember the stuff from the documentary, and then everything with Avi. And it also makes me think of my gf now cause it’s a perfect long distance relationship song.

What is your favourite song by 9?

It depends a bit on my mood. Time is great (and omfg that Scott Hoying and Mario José cover of Lost On You combined with Time… what a brilliant idea), but no wait… Duduk of the North has to be it. It’s one of my favourite pieces of music ever. And pretty much everything else from Gladiator really.

When did you first get into 2?

Aha! Easy question for once. It’s all due to Shadowhunters, so it was last fall.

How did you get into 3?

I am such a newbie pentaholic, but I got in deep once I properly tried. See, I don’t really know why I resisted so many years. I love musicals, and I’ve realised part of that is cause I really like duets and choirs and stuff (and stories but that doesn’t have anything to do with PTX). But there was something with the whole a cappella group thing that just didn’t work for me, I thought. And tbh I think a big part was also the beatboxing thing, cause I generally find beatboxing kinda cringy? Also Scott is a bit too much when you’re not used to it with all the riffing and running. I’m not a big fan of that in general. Aaaanyway. I never properly tried even if I knew of them of course. I think the first thing I heard/watched was Radioactive back in the day, which I think introduced me to Lindsey Stirling as well, whom I have listened way more to. So anyway, a few months ago (I said newbie did I?) I was watching GMM, which I have been a fan of for many years, and used to watch every single ep of but haven’t with the new format. But Duo or Don’t-o style stuff is always fun, so definitely gonna watch that. I did recognise the guests, at least Scott, and made the PTX connection (probably not Mitch tbh considering how much he changes all the time). I thought they seemed really fun and cute and everything and knew I had to watch some Superfruit stuff on youtube. Well I fell in love right away, and watched everything, and listening to Future Friends. But somewhere along the way of that massive binge (we’re just talking like a week of inhaling everything) I thought I really should give PTX a good and proper try. First I put a few songs on a Spotify playlist and played at work. Then I expanded a bit. And then I just went into a full soundbath that included all their music, minus classic christmas songs (cause we were past the holiday season). And I do mean listening to their stuff pretty much non-stop for 24-48 hours. Okay did stop for sleep. And it worked. I realised that the beatboxing wasn’t cringy at all cause Kevin isn’t human and you can’t even tell (I listen to the mashup from Bones, with the somewhat subpar beatboxing and… yeah still a lil bit cringy tbh, but not as much as it used to be cause I am used to the art form) and I got used to all the running. Ask me my favourite band now and… tbh I will probably say PTX.

What is your favourite song by 4?

It will have to be something from BSG for sure (I do love the Outlander score too though, and other stuff he’s done, but BSG will always be my favourite). Violence and Variations, Goodbye Sam, or Roslin and Adama probably. The last one there is what I think is the reason I finally watched the show. See, I had tried twice and never even got through the mini series. A friend sent me that song (I think) saying that she knew I don’t watch the show, but that I appreciate a good score and knowing I love Gladiator I might really like the music from BSG. And I was like sure, why not. Give me some nice sweeping score! And she was right, I did really like it. And the timing was just right. I must’ve been ready for a new sci fi show, and the music made me open up to it again. I skipped the first half of the mini cause I remembered it well enough and started with the second half, which I guess got me past that first speed bump, and oh boy and I glad I gave it a third try. One of the best tv series I’ve ever watched. And excellent score. Bear McCreary is for sure one of my favourite composers. How many times have you seen 9 live?

Never. How often does Hans Zimmer do live stuff though? Wait didn’t I see some kind of recorded live thing with him somewhere? Netflix maybe? I should watch that. I have heard some of his stuff performed by a symphonic orchestra in Prague though! Not a pure Hans Zimmer show by any means, but I finally got the Gladiator Suite live. What is a good memory concerning 10?

I don’t have a specific memory tied to Tom Waits I think. Skip to the last question for one story about getting into his music as an adult, which I guess is a good memory. But in general his music just reminds me of my dad. Which is also nice. Is there a song by 8 that makes you sad?

Haha both the sad questions are for very closely related artists… anyways, not really? Cause even the properly sad songs like Deny U and Goodbye From Lonely have some kind of energy that just makes them… less sad. Now, if they would do some kind of like outdoor acoustic thing like artists tend to do for some reason (hey boys, look at kirstin and do the same!) I’m sure they would become way more sad. Tbh I’d really like that. We got a taste of Goodbye From Lonely from someone’s cute party (who was it? Damn, I can’t remember. One of their friends anyway. Wait, was it Luke?) where they did it acoustic, and what I heard was beautiful. What is your favourite song of 1? I can’t say Gold Can Turn To Sand right? Simply cause I adore the original xD Cause it isn’t really my favourite when just looking at his stuff I guess. Hmmm, you know what comes to mind? Vincent (Starry Starry Night), that one is beautiful. Actually a lot of the songs from his debut album are among my favourites. Like Let Me Fall or You’re Still You. Like the big sweeping ballads.

How did you get into 10?

Dad. The end. No but I grew up with the music of Tom Waits, Bob Dylan, Rolling Stones, Eric Clapton… assorted blues as well. Many years ago I think one of his songs played in something on tv, maybe even a cover. I feel like it might’ve been I Hope That I Don’t Fall In Love With You? Or someone used lyrics for something on LJ maybe? I don’t know. Anyway, I felt like I recognised the song and liked it. And I looked up which album it was on (his debut album from 1973 in fact) and assuming dad had it, went to find it in the living room (cause I was right). Put it on in the kitchen while doing something, and realised I knew all the songs on the album. I had never listened to it actively. But it must’ve played so many times during my childhood. And I thought “damn, this is good”. And it still is. I think that album will always give me a cozy safe feeling.

Tagging: uuuh, whoever feels like doing it. @kimmyhunter you said you had some tag games to do, have another! the rest of you... do it too!

#music #about me #tag game #long post

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trytoimagineptx · 7 years ago

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Avi Kaplan X Reader: I’m Always Yours

Summary: The reader and Avi go out for dinner, and she gets a little jealous... Warnings: Jealous reader, overly flirtatious waitress trying to steal Avi (yes that is a warning), implied smut, dom!Avi X sub!reader kink (at end) Word Count: 532 Tag List: @122096458, @the7thsilence Please let me know if you would like to be added or subtracted from my tag list! Requested by: Anonymous Request: one shot where you're out with Avi and you see a girl look at him and you get all jealous and like hug up and hang all over him and like he's clueless at first but then realizes and thinks it's super adorable??? #fcute A.N.- Sorry this took so long, also I hope it’s okay that I changed it up a little bit!

(Y/n) and Avi had decided to go out to dinner, a random spur of the moment decision just to get away for a while. But at the moment, (Y/n) wished that they had never left the apartment. From the moment the duo stepped into the door, every woman in the restaurant had their eyes on Avi, their waitress in particular. Every time she came over, she would not so subtly flirt with Avi. It started with a smile, then a flirtatious joke, the woman had no boundaries. She had even slipped her number to Avi when she had brought their food. She was completely rude to (Y/n), barely glancing at her, and when Avi spoke to her, the waitress only glared. Avi didn’t seem to notice the girls flirting or her rude gestures toward (Y/n). But the next appearance from the waitress pushed (Y/n) over thee edge, she had leaned over, giving Avi a clear view of her chest, whilst shamelessly asking about his plans later that evening. “He’ll be spending time with his girlfriend” At that comment, the waitress scoffed and stalked off. Avi sent (Y/n) a curious look, she reached across the table taking his hand in her own, leaving his question unanswered. He smiled at her, giving her hand a soft squeeze, rubbing his thumb across the back of her hand, then bringing it up to his lips to kiss her knuckles. Their hands stayed joined until they had finished their meal. (Y/n) excused herself from the table to use the restroom, she was on her way back when she was intercepted by the waitress, she began to speak when (Y/n) interrupted her, “Now listen, I don’t know what game you’re playing, and frankly I don’t care. Stay away from my man” With that, she walked back to the table, making sure the waitress’s eyes were on her as she brought Avi in for a kiss, he was surprised, bu responded none the less. When she pulled away, (Y/n) watched as the waitress stormed off into the back of the restaurant. Avi followed her gaze, smiling as he realized why (Y/n) had been so handsy. He quickly paid for their meals then guided (Y/n) out of the restaurant, not even glancing at the waitress as he passed, wrapping his arm around (Y/n)’s shoulder, being a complete gentleman. Opening the door for her, helping her into the car. As they drove back to their shared apartment, the car was filled with a comfortable silence between them, with the radio playing softly in the background. The drive was quick, and they were soon in the apartment. The second (Y/n) closed the door, Avi had her trapped between his strong body and the wooden door. “W-what are you doing?” “You’re so cute, getting jealous over some random girl” “I-” “It was kind of hot babe” “She was messing with what’s mine” “Was she now?” “Avi-” “Listen, I’m yours (Y/n), I’m always yours” “And I’m always yours” “I love you” “I love you too” “Now, since you doubted me, I think you deserve to be punished” “Yes sir”

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yamigooops · 7 years ago

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Avis Draconis

Pairing - Gajevy

Type - AU: Dragons and fairies because I’m trash for that trope

Words - 4334

Note: this was originally gonna be something for Gajevy love fest, so I’m still gonna put the tag, but I decided to post it now bc I’m too in love with it to wait until the day I was gonna post it. Also, this is going to become an actual fanfic, so here is the link to the story! Thanks for all the support so far <3

Levy let out a weak cry as she slid down the cold iron bar, too exhausted to stand any longer, much less throw herself against the cage like she had been. The frigid metal seemed to continually sap the life right out of her veins, and it was all she could do to keep the tears that blurred her vision from falling.

The dragon had thrown her in this cage, then up and left. He was probably preparing his torturous means of killing her. He’d probably start by cutting up her wings before tearing them off. Each slice in the thin membrane would cause her immense pain. Then, for all she knew he might even decide to break her flight bones before he even tore them from her back. The thought made her curl even further into herself and conceal her frightened form with those large wings he’d go for first.

The silvery feathers along the bottom of the membrane were out of place and mangled. The gold ones lining the bones at the top were patchy and dull. Her species of fairy, the ancient Avis people of the south, were a prideful one. So the sight of her plumage in such poor condition brought a feeling of shame upon her.

Not that its appearance was her fault though…

At the sound of footsteps approaching, she scrambled back from the door of the cage. But these footsteps sounded different than the ones she heard when the dragon left. She wasn’t sure how long ago that was, but she knew it had been a fair amount of time. So the sound of these new footsteps lit a dark curiosity in her. They echoed off the stone walls in what she could only assume was the dragon’s aerie, though it was dismal and bare, with only two windows and a dragon-sized door that had been slammed shut after they arrived.

“I’ve heard much about your people,” came a gruff voice from the darkness. She could only assume that it came from the same creature as the footsteps. “The prideful fairies of the south, the powerful, legendary Avis who come out only when the sun is at its peak, and when the moon is at its fullest.”

The torch on the wall near the cage only illuminated so far into the darkness, and whomever was now circling her stayed just outside its reach.

“I say you’re just arrogant fools who’ve hidden in your enchanted forest for far too long,” the voice hissed. Judging from it, she could tell it was a man, though she could not glean what species he was from the few words he had spoken. “You value your knowledge and your wings more than anything, so you have failed to notice all the changes going on in the world outside your borders…”

“You call me arrogant,” she croaked, her throat feeling like a desert. “Yet you keep company with a dragon. That seems to me both foolish AND arrogant…”

The man chuckled, the sound bouncing off the walls to give the feeling that his laughter was surrounding her. The next thing she knew, a hand reached through the bars at her back to take hold of her narrow chin and turn her around to face him.

“My poor little fairy, that dragon and I are practically one in the same,” he grinned. The sight of him took her breath away to the point that she had no response.

A wild mane of unkept black hair fell down his back, which was covered by a thick, luxurious cape. He had on a dark shirt with a high neck and no sleeves, giving a full view of his muscular, scarred arms. His light pants were tucked into worn leather boots to complete the look. But even more captivating was his face. A sharp jawline and prominent cheekbones gave him a very angular appearance. One odd thing about him though was the piercings scattered about his face. Three lined either side of the bridge of his nose, four were fastened in the place of both of his eyebrows, and two dotted the space between his lower lip and chin. His ears were littered with even more metal studs, and she found herself wondering what they felt like.

The grin that still cut across his face exposed his bright white teeth. Upon closer inspection, his canines were much longer - not to mention sharper - than any normal fae’s. Dragging her gaze away from them, she hesitantly brought it up to meet his own, then instantly regretted the decision. Once they made eye contact, she felt that she was paralyzed in her seat. His irises were the color of freshly spilled blood, and they bore hungrily into her soul. A stroke of fear shot through her, and she mustered all her will to tear away from his grasp and scramble away from him. Huddling on the opposite side of the cage, she concealed her body once more with her bird-like wings, leaving her head free to watch him skeptically.

“Aww come on little fairy. I just wanted to play a little,” he gave a dramatic pout as he took hold of the bars in front of him and hung almost seductively against them. “What do you think I’m gonna do, clip your precious little wings?”

“No, I’m sure the dragon will take care of that,” she muttered, voice wavering slightly at the thought.

“Come now, you really think that big metal head has enough use of his paws to be able to rip the wings off a teeny fairy like yourself?” He scoffed, straightening and slowly making his way around the cage toward her. He took a slow pace, emphasizing each step and clasping his hands behind his head. “If anything, should he decide he wants your wings clipped, he’d have me do it. But I don’t think that’s his intention…”

She hesitated, staying very still as the man continued to approach her. “T-Then what is his intention…if you know him as well as you claim?”

He sighed, coming to a stop behind her. He reached through the bars once again, but this time much more gently, to tug her closer to him. “I think it’s something much simpler than that, little fairy…” he murmured as he leaned down to nearly brush his nose to hers.

“Tell me…please…” It came out no louder than a whisper.

“Maybe he was captivated.” The sound of metal clinking against metal did not even register to her in that moment. “Maybe he wanted to keep you for himself.” The door was suddenly unlocked and opened, but Levy still was not free, as the man was suddenly situated atop her slight frame, his long legs straddling her waist and her arms pinned gently above her head with one of his hands.

“Maybe he wants to make you queen of all the lands he rules over instead of letting you become queen of that silly little forest. I’ve watched for two centuries as the war between the dragons and fae raged on, just waiting for a chance to end it, and I finally found that when you were named heir to the throne…”

“What are you talking about? You’ve been watching for two centuries? I’m the answer to the end of the-” Her voice trailed off as realization dawned on her. “Y-you… you’re the dragon aren’t you?” Terror coursed through her veins, but so did something else. Something much sweeter, much softer.

His expression changed slightly, looking almost guilty. “And what would you do if I said yes?” It was his turn to speak in no more than a whisper. “Would you run away terrified like all the rest of your kind? Would you refuse any consolation or friendship I might offer? No, I don’t think you would do that…” His free hand moved to slowly brush the strands of blue hair away from her face, almost lovingly. He then trailed it down her side until he reached her once awe-inspiring wings. “I thoroughly apologize for what I did to your wings, little one. It can be a bit difficult for a matured dragon to catch a fairy as quick as you. I foolishly hoped there’d be little or no collateral damage, but obviously I was mistaken.” Regret tinged his voice, almost making her believe him.

“If you say you’ve been around for two centuries, why did you wait for me to end this war? It’s claimed the lives of millions of fae and thousands of dragons…” Her voice was colored with fear still, and she didn’t try to stop it from trembling.

“Because I was the dragon that started it in the first place…” he admitted after a moment, not meeting her gaze.

“You aren’t-” She gasped quietly. “Black Steel Gajeel, the Iron King of the Dragons.”

“Do I frighten you a little more now? Does the name strike terror in your heart? I know I was the cause of all these deaths, and I wish I would’ve known two centuries ago what havoc it would bring. But I cannot let the rest of my brethren die off into extinction, nor do I have any more desire to bring destruction to your kind.” He dropped his head slightly, his face now hidden from her sight.

As his grip on her hands loosened, Levy slipped one free with ease, before hesitantly placing it under his chin to make him look at her. His skin was hot to the touch, and smoother than she would have expected from such a rugged looking man. “I think I understand why you brought me here then…” she admitted.

He glanced to his sides as movement caught his eye. But it was simply her wings, rising around him. Their impressive span was more than enough to wrap around the large man above her, and she nearly laughed at the fascinated look on his face as he inspected the feathered barrier around him.

“But I think I’d rather hear your explanation…”

He visibly swallowed, looking almost nervous. Never in a thousand years would Levy have thought she could make a dragon, much less their king, look nervous…

“I want to bring this cursed war to an end, my little fairy.”

Gathering her courage once more, she smiled ever so slightly. “Is that all you want? I find it hard to believe that the mighty Iron King would want just one thing of a lowly fairy like me.”

“You are no lowly fairy. You are Princess Levy McGarden, Heir to the throne of Avion, future ruler of the lands of Fiore and all the fae who reside within its borders. I may be king of the dragons, but if there is any creature to equal my power, it is you, both in status and magical ability.” He gazed down at her with such intensity that her heart fluttered in her chest. “I would like nothing more than for you to remain here by my side. Only together can we bring this fighting to an end. And only together would we be able to lead into the future to assure it does not occur again.”

“Convince me, o dragon king… why should I listen to a word you’re saying? I cannot deny that, while I’m tempted to accept your offer,” Levy hesitated, letting her fingers slowly trail down his neck to tug down the collar of his shirt. “I’m sure it would be an unlawful relationship in every meaning of the word. And while I’ll admit, you’re quite handsome…” Raising herself up on her already freed arm, she tugged the other from his grasp and wrapped it around the back of his neck. Only when they were nearly nose-to-nose did she finish. “Tell me how you wish to atone for all the sins that dirty those hands of yours.”

The almost stunned look on his face gave her enough self confidence to stay in that position. Otherwise, she’d have blushed so intensely she’d have burned to a crisp! But that confidence was tested as he gave a low chuckle. Here she was, trying her hardest to be intimidating and hopefully appealing, and he had the audacity to laugh at her… Anger tinged her expression as he stopped.

“I apologize, my little princess. This was much more than I’d expected. Had I known this would be the route you would decide to take me on, I’d have prepared a room for you to do with me as you saw fit, instead of leaving you in a cage…” As his words brought a deep blush to her cheeks, he ducked his head to press his lips softly to her neck. The tenderness of the gesture sent a chill down her spine.

He continued on after a moment of kissing her sweet skin. “So I hope it suits your needs-” he paused again, this time to look up at her. “If I offer my personal chambers instead.” With that, he allowed his lips to return to her neck, this time with the addition of gentle teeth scraping against her creamy skin.

Her wings slowly fell away from the pair as she felt herself going nearly limp at the feeling. As they made contact with the metal floor of the cage, she felt him slip one arm under the small of her back, and one beneath her head in what she thought was a mere romantic gesture. While she may have been partially correct, a strange leathery sound drew her attention away from the feeling of his mouth.

Opening her eyes, she drew in a quiet gasp. Above her rose a pair of metallic-looking dragon’s wings that put her own to shame, both in appearance and span. Gajeel gave her neck one last nibble before grinning down at her. The next thing she knew, they were out of the cage and soaring through the cavernous passages of the Iron Dragon’s stronghold. She was tucked against his broad, muscular chest, her wings folded tight against her back as his pumped thunderously above her.

Just as she had grown accustomed to the feeling of flying without her own wings, they were slowing to a stop. It was then that she realized that her arms were secured around his neck, and her body was pressed flush against his. As he folded his wings to his back, allowing the thick cape to cover them once again, she looked at him in wonder.

“Would you like to hang on my neck all night princess, or would you like to try and get at least a wink of sleep?” He grinned as that adorable blush spread over her cheeks once again. She released her hold on him, only to be lowered about a foot to the ground by his strong hands on her waist. She then truly realized how much larger he was in comparison to her.

As he turned to push open a set of enormous metal doors, she made to follow, but froze at the sight that awaited her. She had thought the previous cave was his aerie, but she was surely mistaken. This cavern put the previous one to shame. Mountains of treasure rose up along the curved wall, and six tall pillars carved to look like incredibly realistic dragons helped support the ceiling, from which hung an ornate crystal chandelier lit with hundreds of light lacrima. But the center of the space was what truly caught her attention.

A smaller collection of treasures surrounded a raised platform that contained what appeared to be some type of nest. The treasures there looked much more valuable than those along the walls, as this horde contained crowns and treasure chests overflowing with jewels. While the surrounding ones glittered gold, this pile glittered every color of the rainbow, reflecting the light from the chandelier above.

She took slow steps toward the altar as Gajeel watched her with his arms crossed and a small smile on his face. She looked so small and fragile against the backdrop of his chamber. All the metal and treasure surrounding her, with her tattered wings and torn dress. Yet he truly believed that, should it ever come to pass, he would protect her with more ferocity than he would ever protect any of the treasure that he had gathered over the last two centuries.

She paused at the steps to the altar and glanced back at him as he stood in the doorway. Receiving a nod of approval, she ascended the stone steps to the place where his nest was perched. She circled the structure slowly, noticing the iron shell on the outside, and running her hand along the large pillows that lined the edge of it. It was very much akin to the nests her own people slept in, but on a much, much larger scale. As she reached the back of it, she paused to look up at Gajeel. With a look of dangerous curiosity and mischief, she unfurled her wings and leapt into the air.

Her plan was to simply fly up a little ways then fall softly into the nest. But her battered wings had other ideas. She only pumped her wings twice, before pain shot through them and her face contorted. Before she could even start to fall toward the nest, Gajeel was there, arms holding her protectively against himself as she tried her hardest not to cry out from the pain.

He slowly lowered them to the nest, placing her gently among the blankets and pillows before moving to inspect her wings. He moved his fingers carefully along the bone of her left wing, then finding it intact, he moved to the right one. He found that it wasn’t in fact broken, but there was a patch of skin along the bone that was heavily irritated. The feathers there were torn up and several were missing. Guilt welled up in his chest as he folded his wings once again and called out in a language Levy couldn’t understand.

“I’m so sorry my little fairy, I’ll get you patched up in no time,” he murmured into her hair. He gently pulled her into his lap, keeping her injured wing free. She laid against his chest for a long moment, before he felt her stir. She reached up to undo the clasp at his throat, letting the heavy cape fall away and leaving his wings exposed. Looking up at him, he nodded with a smile as he got what she was silently asking.

He slowly unfurled he left wing, bringing it forward so she could see it. He smiled at the look of wonder that came to her face as she gazed silently at it. She reached out a tentative hand to run her fingers over the length of his flight bone. After she reached the end of it, she trailed her fingertips down the leathery membrane of the wing itself, fascinated as she brushed over the bones extending down from the main one through the membrane to end in a little claw at the edge of the wing. The structures were so foreign to her, so captivating, that she didn’t even notice someone else entering the chamber.

“Gajeel, I have what you asked for,” came a clear, deep voice from the doorway. With a start, Levy looked up at Gajeel in confusion, and he nodded with a smile before looking toward the door.

“Thank you Pantherlily. You can bring it in.” With his wing in front of her, Levy couldn’t see who was approaching. So she slowly peeked around the large obstruction only to be dumbstruck at the sight.

A small black cat approached them carrying a bag full of what appeared to be medical supplies over his shoulder. The cat wore a pair of billowy olive green pants and walked on two legs, and as she glanced around, she decided it had to have been him that spoke before.

Retracting his wing and returning it to his back, Gajeel watched Levy’s expression carefully. She looked astonished as the little Exceed approached them, and it brought a smile to his face. As Lily stopped at the bottom of the stairs leading up to the nest, he bowed low, a gesture he had long since abandoned with Gajeel.

“Why bow now Lily? You haven’t done that in decades? Gajeel chuckled.

“The bow wasn’t for you screwhead. It was for her highness, Princess Levy of Avion,” the cat rolled his eyes. Levy laughed quietly, relaxing slightly against Gajeel’s chest.

“I like him,” she murmured to the dragon beside her.

“Tch, just hand me the supplies and be on your way,” Gajeel grumbled. As the cat stepped up to hand him the bag, he clambered over the side of the nest to joint them, seemingly much to Gajeel’s annoyance.

“So, Pantherlily, you seem to know who I am, but I can’t say the same about you,” Levy smiled as Gajeel shifted beneath her. She extended the injured wing, then shifted so her back was pressed to Gajeel’s chest so he could reach it with greater ease. She could have sworn he held his breath as she moved. “Where do you hail from?”

“I am an Exceed from the kingdom of Exlandia, a far away country where creatures like myself thrive. It’s nice to finally have someone around here to talk to about things as trivial as this,” he chuckled and shot a playful look at Gajeel. The dragon scoffed as he gently spread a salve over the injured area. It stung a bit at first, but after a moment Levy sighed as it soothed the pain.

“So tell me, what makes you stick around here Pantherlily?” She asked curiously.

“Gajeel saved me from many a battle when we were younger. Without his ugly mug, I wouldn’t be alive today. So I suppose it’s because we’ve formed a friendship. Or maybe I’m just too scared to fight with that dragon he hides inside that skin of his…” The little cat shuddered at some unspoken memory, which spiked Levy’s curiosity before she decided it would be better not to ask.

She inhaled sharply, trying to keep her wing still as she felt the ever unpleasant sensation of feathers being plucked from her skin. “What are you doing?” She hissed, turning to see what Gajeel was getting at.

“I’m sorry, but these feathers aren’t going to regrow unless they’re-”

“Removed, I know,” she cut him off. “But there are less painful ways of going about that, you know.” Her voice was colored in thinly veiled annoyance. “Let me handle this part. I won’t lose a single feather more than I have to.”

Rolling his eyes, Gajeel eased her off his legs to stand up. “Also know that your left wing is swollen near the base. Don’t fly for a while, I won’t have you injuring yourself further.” Stepping to the edge of the nest, he hopped out onto the altar. “I’ll be back.”

Her sense of safety wavered, and mild anger washed over her. “It’s not as though I asked to be injured and captured by a dragon today,” she muttered to herself. His footsteps halted, and she looked up to see him turn on his heel to face her.

“Do you want to end this war or not? Would you not sacrifice yourself for the sake of your people? Because I sure as hell would. I figured this would be the best alternative to one, or even both of us, having to die…” he retorted.

“You could have at least offered a treaty. Had you tried to arrange this peacefully, I would be much more open-minded to the idea, not to mention my wings wouldn’t look like a fledgling who fell out of her nest!” She replied somewhat defiantly.

In an instant, he was back in front of her, but now she was pressed against the pillows on the edge of the nest. His wings were flared out around him, and with the light from above him casting his face in darkness, she felt a true spike of fear run through her body.

“It can be a bit difficult to write out a treaty when you never learned to write in the language of your enemy,” he hissed, his eyes nearly glowing with frustration.

She was silent for a moment, letting his words sink in. Of course he wouldn’t know how to write in Fiorean. He was a dragon from the north. Up here they spoke Draconic, a long forgotten language in Fiore. Merely four fae still knew the language from the time before the war, and they were incredibly difficult to get in contact with. So should a treaty come to the queen of Fiore in Draconic, it would have taken an exceptionally long time to get it translated.

“I’ll make a deal with you then,” she proposed as an idea came to mind.

“What is your deal little fairy? I’m interested to know what you could offer.” His wings slowly lowered to his back, but his expression hardly softened.

“Teach me Draconic, and in return I will teach you to write Fiorean. I know it’s not much, but all I can really offer you is knowledge. I was a scholar, a magic wielder. I’m sure we would both benefit from this deal, just think it over…”

Since she was a little girl, some hundred years ago, she had always been fascinated with the dragons that plagued her people. She had heard tales of their complex language, and had dreamt of learning it. So the thought of finally being able to have a chance at learning even a bit of the difficult language intrigued her.

He hesitated, standing to his full height above her. “I’ll consider it.” Then he was walking away again, leaving her and a dumbstruck Pantherlily in his nest to tend to her wings.

#Avis Draconis #gajevy #gajevy fanfic #gajevy week #gajevylovefest #gajeel redfox #levy mcgarden #gajeel x levy #fairy tail #fairy tail fanfic #ftfanfics #fuckyeahgajevy #black steel gajeel #fairy tail au #gajevy au #mine #my post #my writing

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fyrapartnersearch · 7 years ago

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The captain has turned off the fasten seatbelt sign

Hello, this is your captain speaking. We’re currently flying at the altitude where passenger planes can be spotted! One of my co-pilots is starting to disembark before landing, so I am currently searching for a craft that will carry a story on new wings!

About your aviator: My name’s Jaimie. Hi!

I’ve been flying for many years (15+) but more recently have been stationed abroad (Therefore I’m not going to dole out timezones- it scares away the passengers) all you really need to know is that outside of my flight pattern (my hobby) I have a really time consuming job (40+ hours) but fear not! Rain or shine, this plane always makes the trip! My trips are normally good for one ride a day, however, sometimes I’m willing to take a layover if the going’s good.

Age wise, I’m 27. Welp.

You’ll notice (or not) in the tags, I clicked fandoms. Despite the fandom ‘click’ I will only use original characters (OCs ONLY).

Let’s go over some air safety rules!

- Noted above, I only write OCs. Please don’t email me about [Spiderman x Deadpool] or whatever the kids are writing now. NO. I don’t want to role-play your fandom! Hope that clears that up.

- I only write as men. I am looking for a MxM role-play. I double often with a vast range of characters (I repeat, I this aircraft serves all kinds!). I respect your want to play any other story, do not email me saying, “I read your post, but I really like writing a female…lol is that okay?” I will politely turn you down and privately share your faux-pas with my colleagues about you not being able to read. So…hope that clears that up…

- Please be legal age if you want to write NSFW stories. You must be 18 or older to fly unaccompanied by a legal guardian. I am an adult, I would prefer adult themes but I am not above writing SFW stories either. Let me know what you’re interested in…and your age. We can discuss limits should it be needed.

- I like to think I’m pretty friendly, I would love to talk to you! If you want to chat or be buddy buddy, cool beans friend! I’m all for those kinds of words.

- This has been peeving me for some time. Everyone always says, “I usually get dropped because x doesn’t respond/ the story dips off and I don’t know what to write/ I have no time/ I need time to think of a reply/ etc.”

I will absolutely tell you if the story is going nowhere/ let you know if I want to stop/ Can’t write anymore. Please do the same. I will not be upset and respect you more for it. I might even hit you up if you feel like the time might be right at another date. To those who have previously messaged me, please don’t re-message. It didn’t work for some reason, I see you floating around here too. To you, I say good day sir-madams!

- Lastly, I will provide story prompts and name my character I intend on using. The plotting point of the role-play (not even the writing) is usually where I lose people…I also get the line, “What are you into…I’ll write whatever…You choose…” Well damn. I will choose. Call it, fatigue from the lack of will to be frank about what one truly wants.

* (Character bio’s in depth will be provided to those interested in the story/character combo.)

The Flight plan (plots)

1. (Fantasy/Sci-fi/Modern) Startop or affectionately dubbed 'ST’ by his small group of companions is a botanist and lover of any kind of plant life. Working in a world filled with something akin to 'scientific magic’ people not only live along side the growing technological industry but also have discovered alchemic answers to the 'magic tricks’ in the world. As a result animal-like monstrosities have been released in this land along with anomalies in the plant life. A glorious haven for ST, he works in an old castle like building, toiling behind 'chemicals’ to enhance plants to better serve humanity. There is a 'slip up’ here and there, but nothing that can’t be swept under the proverbial rug…or burned. The quirky semi-scientist who slums it in a laboratory has never lived a life of adventure in the fantastic world around him. They say he can work magic on foliage but perhaps someone in his genus could strike up some chemistry instead.

2. (FANDOM- Love Pistols Manga) (Notice: if you have no idea what this is, please either google it or over look this prompt). After losing his best friend to another man in South Korea, Leroy is devastated. At the losing end of a love triangle, the heavyweight faces his future back in New York with disdain. The god-father to his secret love’s son and rival of his current lover. Leroy finds little joy in the time spent back home. Everyone is moving on without him and being the heir to his father’s banking company, Leroy will either face an arranged marriage in order to keep the family wheel turning or find someone to replace his previous 'Prince’. It’s tough being an Alligator in such a cold city, but maybe someone can help this reptile warm up.

3. (Fantasy) Serbian is foremost a sorcerer but a small fact remains that he is also a demon. Demons fall in many categories in this world, some being benign, others being a threat. In this world there are humans and those who are not. Serbian falls into the aforementioned slot, which he is all too painfully aware of. Spending his time with a page held against her will, and a two tailed beast, the demon often finds himself peddling his wares to fellow demons and humans alike, forever on the move, a nomad in a mysterious continent. Yet, the humans strive to rid the world of demon-kind engineering 'aeygles’ a hybrid of human and demon kind to ward of the surmounting threat to humanity. Stifled with a secret hidden within himself, Serbian struggles to live in a chaotic world wrought with danger, aeygles, daemons, mystery, and magic. Will he succumb to the rise of humanity, or help snuff it out before the Aeygles prove to be more dangerous to both demons and humans alike?

4. (Fantasy/Slice of Life/Modern) Thad is a damn good chef. He has hit a low point however and now works in a sleazy part of town, in a run down restaurant, smack between a strip joint and a dollar theatre. This doesn’t get him down however, being a slacker is kind of his thing. When he’s not working, he spends his time in bars, drinking, or playing the bass in a punk band for kicks. The point remains however, Thad is a damn good chef. He has been for over 500 years. Though that’s pretty young in the lifetime of an imp. The world has always had a side not so often seen, and his world is nearly invisible, thanks to the OG monsters who kept things in the shadows. Life for monsters has been changing however, vampires being more lax, werewolves running amok from time to time. Still, despite this low point, it’s but a small bump in the trajectory of his so-called life. He’ll either continue on as he has been for 500 years or be thrown for a loop by whatever comes his way. But that’s the beauty of life. You never know who or what might be coming down the road.

5. (Fantasy/Sci-fi) On the alien planet of Avis, in the Sol System- a neighbor to old Earth’s Solar System there live a species undisturbed for eons. Despite the lack of communication between others, the Harpee have thrived with their minimalist technologies, living on their harsh, jungle infested planet. Muteo, a young Harpee prince is leery of taking on his mother’s position as ruler of his people. However, with four waring factions between the Harpee, there is a little competition. With the threat of contact from other worlds looming and the choice to follow in his mother’s footsteps- what is the prince to do? Will he choose to explore these 'settlers’ from another world, or to unify his people and fight them.

There you have it folks! Grab your ticket and fall in line, we’ll be boarding soon!

I only role-play through email: [email protected] (there it is!)

Please don’t email me with no idea what you’re interested in. If you want something a little different or want to modify the stories in any way, please let me know! I’m all for the change! I am also willing to collaborate on a plot/character IF a decent story has been developed and the need arises to make another character.

#oc rp #long term #email #submission

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owly-sims · 8 years ago

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Gameplay Replies

I’m so annoyed! I worked on a document for like four hours last night, saved it to my Google Drive, and then printed it at work today. BUT it hadn’t synced so I printed an old version THEN I saved it, thus undoing all of my work. And the document was for a meeting so I looked like a real jackass (luckily it was a one-on-one with my sympathetic boss). So now I have a bunch of work to redo. I just wanted to vent.

Anyway, some replies to my random legacy stuff. I have two weeks of legacy gameplay queued, so I hope you enjoy it! (if not, you can block “Bee Legacy”)

declarations-of-drama replied to your photoset“Nikolas got arrested! And look, that alien UFO he failed to steal is...”

Richie Rich Haha!!! I remember when I was that age and going to see The Dark Crystal - we queued for hours and got to the entrance to be told "It's full sorry!" So we went to Mcdonalds instead :D OK day 5/10 :D

Omg, The Dark Crystal—I saw that when I was about six and it made me cry. XD Still a good movie. And McDonald’s is the next best thing to a movie (as a kid, of course).

declarations-of-drama replied to your photoset“Whilst out on a jog, Nikolas notices an unsecured police cruiser. And...”

Let's hope he doesn't try and make a get-away in it; he'd be faster on a cycle :3

Seriously! I’m imagining one of those bicycle cops easily overtaking him and then beating him (because I live in the US).

simblu replied to your photoset“Whilst out on a jog, Nikolas notices an unsecured police cruiser. And...”

This may be WAAY to personal, but I have a relative whole stole a police car once..maybe he could give your guy lessons? *snicker*

simblu replied to your photoset“Whilst out on a jog, Nikolas notices an unsecured police cruiser. And...”

TOO, not "to"..I know me some gramma and spelin.

Wow, I’m torn between “wow, that’s crazy!” and “wow, that’s badass!” Honestly I don’t think it’d be TOO hard to steal a police car, because I’ve noticed several times that officers have left them running or unlocked.

Not that I’ve ever thought about stealing a police car…

declarations-of-drama replied to your photoset“When an unstoppable force meets an unmovable object! Damn, they pathed...”

The smell of sweet running success!! :D

But I didn’t want success! I wanted them to run into each other!

declarations-of-drama replied to your photo“Idk why, but I LOVE this little fist pump thing sims do when they...”

Ha! Have you seen the way they do those moves with different traits like dramatic and stuff - so funny

I haven’t! I honestly haven’t played that many traits. I need to make some sims with traits I’ve never used (dramatic is one of them).

twinsimskeletons replied to your photo“Idk why, but I LOVE this little fist pump thing sims do when they...”

"rad" yes that is what I, and the kids, say these days

twinsimskeletons replied to your photo“Idk why, but I LOVE this little fist pump thing sims do when they...”

I'm joking i have no idea what the kids say these days.

Um, I teach 18 year olds so I’m fairly certain they say “rad.” Also, “tubular,” “cowabunga,” and “gnarly.” /nod.

twinsimskeletons replied to your photo“You’re supposed to throw the dart at the board, Nikolas, not at your...”

Imagine how much that would hurt though

I know! He’s takin’ it like a champ tho.

declarations-of-drama replied to your photoset“Lark’s income roll for her generation is mixologist, which I wouldn’t...”

Oh dear! Didn't know that could happen!

I think it was actually old age that did her in, because her ghost was gray.

acquiresimoleons replied to your photoset“Lark’s income roll for her generation is mixologist, which I wouldn’t...”

Lmao she literally died waiting for a drink to arrive

I imagine her saying “c’mon missy, I ain’t getting’ any younger!” And then she croaked.

declarations-of-drama replied to your photo“TAG YOU’RE IT”

Hahahaha!!!

blythelyre replied to your photo“TAG YOU’RE IT”

oh, hell no!

What, you don’t wanna play tag with the grim reaper?? :D

grumpysimmies replied to your photoset“All the poses I’ve made so far, minus some of the variations. I’m...”

It looks to me like the expressions are pretty... expressive? (Sorry I couldn't think of anything xD) like the emotions are pretty well displayed in most? (The couples do look a bit shocked or something haha) overalls you did an awesome job!

Thanks! The surprised an sad expressions look okay imo, it’s just the happy ones. I’m hoping to release them soonish.

simblu replied to your photoset“All the poses I’ve made so far, minus some of the variations. I’m...”

I never use poses myself but I'm sure others will love them

I hope so! I use poses all the time, but I rarely use the ones I make so I hope other people get a lot of use out of them.

futurecarrie replied to your photoset“All the poses I’ve made so far, minus some of the variations. I’m...”

I get that it's happy in the last one ^-^. It looks like she was expecting a negative but it's positive and she can't believe what she's seeing *nods*

futurecarrie replied to your photoset“All the poses I’ve made so far, minus some of the variations. I’m...”

Oh! Couples pose! Oh I read it as "you couldn't tell the last one was happy". This is why poorly me shouldn't be allowed the internet xD

Ha, I was a little confused for a second. I’m gonna work on that last one too because she needs to look absolutely STOKED imo.

declarations-of-drama replied to your photoset“All the poses I’ve made so far, minus some of the variations. I’m...”

These are really fantastic - and can be used for more than just pregnancy testing; letters, a ring, a baby hamster :p all of these could fit with these poses. Nice job!

Oh wow, a ring could possibly work with some of them…I’ll need to test it out. A baby hamster would probably be a little squished, though.

sims3hasstoppedworking replied to your post“I’m getting close to 150 followers, so I want to start working on a...”

Honestly I always feel like there's almost 0 Ambitions EP tattoos

I actually have some AMB tattoos in my projects folder, so I’ll work on those next!

sims3hasstoppedworking replied to your photoset“A few screenshots from the beginning of gen 2 of my random legacy....”

ALWAYS STEAL THE MOST PRECIOUS GOODS

Seriously, NOT garlic! He should have at least gone for avocados. Those are way more expensive.

twinsimskeletons replied to your link“2.4. What If?”

YAY MORE!... I promise I'll use it as a reward for work again :3

Thank you! You’re such a good student. :D

simblu replied to your post“Late Replies Pt. 1”

Nice hair color

Thanks! It doesn’t look that nice in real life! :D

declarations-of-drama replied to your post“Late Replies Pt. 2”

Nice new Avi! It's you but it's not you! :D

I just needed a digital change, you know? My digital look was getting so passe.

hyperkaos replied to your post“Late Replies Pt. 2”

pods don't have cockles *ahem*

Um, how do you know so much about my anatomy?? ;D

#replies #hyperkaos #simblu #declarations-of-drama #twinsimskeletons #sims3hasstoppedworking #grumpysimmies #futurecarrie #acquiresimoleons

13 notes · View notes

blogdangerousobjectcollecto-blog · 6 years ago

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Tallahassee Florida Cheap car insurance quotes zip 32310

"Tallahassee Florida Cheap car insurance quotes zip 32310

Tallahassee Florida Cheap car insurance quotes zip 32310

BEST ANSWER: Try this site where you can compare quotes: : http://freecarinsurance.xyz/index.html?src=tumblr

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random-act-of-kindness · 7 years ago

Text

Hanalei Bay

(I don’t own the copyright. For educational purposes only)

Sachi lost her nineteen-year-old son to a big shark that attacked him when he was surfing in Hanalei Bay. Properly speaking, it was not the shark that killed him. Alone far from shore when the animal ripped his right leg off, he panicked and drowned. Drowning, therefore, was the official cause of death. The shark nearly tore his surfboard in half as well. Sharks are not fond of human flesh. Most often their first bite disappoints them and they swim away. Which is why there are many cases in which the person loses a leg or an arm but survives as long as he doesn’t panic. Sachi’s son, though, suffered a kind of cardiac arrest, swallowed massive amounts of ocean water, and drowned.

When notice came from the Japanese consulate in Honolulu, Sachi sank to the floor in shock. Her head emptied out, and she found it impossible to think. All she could do was sit there staring at a spot on the wall. How long this went on, she had no idea. But eventually she regained her senses enough to look up the number of an airline and make a reservation for a flight to Hawaii. The consulate staff person had urged her to come as soon as possible in order to identify the victim. There was still some chance it might not be her son.

Because of the holiday season, all seats were booked on that day’s flight and the next day’s as well. Every airline she called told her the same thing, but when she explained her situation, the United reservationist said, “Just get to the airport as soon as you can. We’ll find you a seat.” She packed a few things in a small bag and went out to Narita Airport, where the woman in charge handed her a business-class ticket. “This is all we have today, but we’ll only charge you economy fare,” she said. “This must be terrible for you. Try to bear up.” Sachi thanked her for being so helpful.

When she arrived at Honolulu Airport, Sachi realized she had been so upset that she had forgotten to inform the Japanese consulate of her arrival time. A member of the consulate staff was supposed to be accompanying her to Kauai. She decided to continue on to Kauai alone rather than deal with the complications of making belated arrangements. She assumed that things would work out once she got there. It was still before noon when her second flight arrived at Lihue Airport in Kauai. She rented a car at the Avis counter and went straight to the police station nearby. There, she told them she had just come from Tokyo after having received word that her son was killed by a shark in Hanalei Bay. A graying police officer with glasses took her to the morgue, which was like a cold-storage warehouse, and showed her the body of her son with one leg torn off. Everything just above the right knee was gone, and a ghastly white bone protruded from the stump. This was her son—there could no longer be any doubt. His face carried no hint of an expression; he looked as he always did when sound asleep. She could hardly believe he was dead. Someone must have arranged his features like this. He looked as though, if you gave his shoulder a hard shake, he would wake up complaining the way he always did in the morning.

In another room, Sachi signed a document certifying that the body was that of her son. The policeman asked her what she planned to do with it. “I don’t know,” she said. “What do people normally do?” They most often cremate it and take the ashes home, he told her. She could also transport the body to Japan, but this required some difficult arrangements and would be far more expensive. Another possibility would be to bury her son on Kauai.

“Please cremate him,” she said. “I’ll take the ashes with me to Tokyo.” Her son was dead, after all. There was no hope of bringing him back to life. What difference did it make whether he was ashes or bones or a corpse? She signed the document authorizing cremation and paid the necessary fee.

“I only have American Express,” she said.

"That will be fine,” the officer said.

Here I am, paying the fee to have my son cremated with an American Express card, Sachi thought. It felt unreal to her, as unreal as her son’s having been killed by a shark. The cremation would take place the next morning, the policeman told her.

“Your English is very good,” the officer said as he put the documents in order. He was a Japanese American by the name of Sakata.

“I lived in the States for a while when I was young,” Sachi said.

“No wonder,” the officer said. Then he gave Sachi her son’s belongings: clothes, passport, return ticket, wallet, Walkman, magazines, sunglasses, shaving kit. They all fit into a small Boston bag. Sachi had to sign a receipt listing these meager possessions.

“Do you have any other children?” the officer asked.

“No, he was my only child,” Sachi replied.

“Your husband couldn’t make the trip?”

“My husband died a long time ago.”

The policeman released a deep sigh. “I’m sorry to hear that. Please let us know if there is anything we can do for you.”

“I’d appreciate it if you could tell me how to get to the place where my son died. And where he was staying. I suppose there’ll be a hotel bill to pay. And I need to get in touch with the Japanese consulate in Honolulu. Could I use your phone?”

He brought her a map and used a felt-tip marker to indicate where her son had been surfing and the location of the hotel where he had been staying. She slept that night in a little hotel in Lihue that the policeman recommended.

As Sachi was leaving the police station, the middle-aged Officer Sakata said to her, “I have a personal favor to ask of you. Nature takes a human life every now and then here on Kauai. You see how beautiful it is on this island, but sometimes, too, it can be wild and deadly. We live here with that potential. I’m very sorry about your son. I really feel for you. But I hope you won’t let this make you hate our island. This may sound self-serving to you after everything you’ve been through, but I really mean it. From the heart.”

Sachi nodded to him.

“You know, ma’am, my brother died in the war in 1944. In Belgium, near the German border. He was a member of the 442nd Regimental Combat Team made up of all Japanese American volunteers. They were there to rescue a Texas battalion surrounded by the Nazis when they took a direct hit and he was killed. There was nothing left but his dog tags and a few chunks of flesh scattered in the snow. My mother loved him so much, they tell me she was like a different person after that. I was just a little kid, so I only knew my mother after the change. It’s painful to think about.”

Officer Sakata shook his head and went on:

“Whatever the ‘noble causes’ involved, people die in war from the anger and hatred on both sides. But Nature doesn’t have ‘sides.’ I know this is a painful experience for you, but try to think of it like this: your son returned to the cycle of Nature; it had nothing to do with any ‘causes’ or anger or hatred.”

Sachi had the cremation performed the next day and took the ashes with her in a small aluminum urn when she drove to Hanalei Bay on the north shore of the island. The trip from the Lihue police station took just over an hour. Virtually all the trees on the island had been deformed by a giant storm that struck a few years earlier. Sachi noticed the remains of several wooden houses with their roofs blown off. Even some of the mountains showed signs of having been reshaped by the storm. Nature could be harsh in this environment.

She continued on through the sleepy little town of Hanalei to the surfing area where her son had been attacked by the shark. Parking in a nearby lot, she went to sit on the beach and watched a few surfers—maybe five in all—riding the waves. They would float far offshore, hanging on to their surfboards, until a powerful wave came through. Then they would catch the wave, push off, and mount their boards, riding almost to the shore. As the force of the waves gave out, they would lose their balance and fall in. Then they would retrieve their boards and slip under the incoming waves as they paddled back out to the open sea, where the whole thing would start over again. Sachi could hardly understand them. Weren’t they afraid of sharks? Or had they not heard that her son had been killed by a shark in this very place a few days earlier?

Sachi went on sitting there, vacantly watching this scene for a good hour. Her mind could not fasten onto any single thing. The weighty past had simply vanished, and the future lay somewhere in the distant gloom. Neither tense had any connection with her now. She sat in the continually shifting present, her eyes mechanically tracing the monotonously repeating scene of waves and surfers. At one point the thought dawned on her: What I need now most of all is time.

Then Sachi went to the hotel where her son had been staying, a shabby little place with an unkempt garden. Two shirtless, long-haired white men sat there in canvas deck chairs, drinking beer. Several empty green Rolling Rock bottles lay among the weeds at their feet. One of the men was blond, the other had black hair. Otherwise, they had the same kind of faces and builds and wore the same kind of florid tattoos on both arms. There was a hint of marijuana in the air, mixed with a whiff of dog shit. As she approached, the two men eyed her suspiciously.

“My son was staying here,” she said. “He was killed by a shark three days ago.”

The men looked at each other. “You mean Takashi?”

“Yes,” Sachi said. “Takashi.”

“He was a cool dude,” the blond man said. “It’s too bad.”

The black-haired man explained in flaccid tones, “That morning, there was, uh, lots of turtles in the bay. The sharks come in lookin’ for the turtles. But, y’know, those guys usually leave the surfers alone. We get along with ’em fine. But, I don’t know, I guess there’s all kinds of sharks…”

Sachi said she had come to pay Takashi’s hotel bill. She assumed there was an outstanding balance on his room.

The blond man frowned and waved his bottle in the air. “No, lady, you don’t get it. Surfers are the only ones who stay in this hotel, and they ain’t got no money. You gotta pay in advance to stay here. We don’t have no ‘outstanding balances.’”

Then the black-haired man said, “Say, lady, you want to take Takashi’s surfboard with you? Damn shark ripped it in two, kinda shredded it. It’s an old Dick Brewer. The cops didn’t take it. I think it’s, uh, somewhere over there…”

Sachi shook her head. She did not want to see the board.

“It’s really too bad,” the blond man said again as if that was the only expression he could think of.

“He was a cool dude,” the black-haired fellow said. “Really OK. Damn good surfer, too. Come to think of it, he was with us the night before, drinkin’ tequila. Yeah.”

Sachi ended up staying in Hanalei for a week. She rented the most decent-looking cottage she could find and cooked her own simple meals. One way or another, she had to get her old self back again before returning to Japan. She bought a vinyl chair, sunglasses, a hat and sunscreen, and sat on the beach every day, watching the surfers. It rained a few times each day—violently, as if someone were tipping a huge bowl of water out of the sky. Autumn weather on the north shore of Kauai was unstable. When a downpour started, she would sit in her car, watching the rain. And when the rain let up, she would go out to sit on the beach again, watching the sea.

Sachi started visiting Hanalei at this season every year. She would arrive a few days before the anniversary of her son’s death and stay three weeks, watching the surfers from a vinyl chair on the beach. That was all she would do each day, every day. It went on like this for ten years. She would stay in the same cottage and eat in the same restaurant, reading a book. As her trips became an established pattern, she found a few people with whom she could speak about personal matters. Many residents of the small town knew her by sight. She became known as the Japanese mom whose son was killed by a shark nearby.

One day, on the way back from Lihue Airport, where she had gone to exchange a balky rental car, Sachi spotted two young Japanese hitchhikers in the town of Kapaa. They were standing outside the Ono Family Restaurant with big sports equipment bags hanging over their shoulders, facing traffic with their thumbs stuck out but looking far from confident. One was tall and lanky, the other short and stocky. Both had shoulder-length hair dyed a rusty red and wore faded T-shirts, baggy shorts, and sandals. Sachi passed them by, but soon changed her mind and turned around.

Opening her window, she asked them in Japanese, “How far are you going?”

“Hey, you can speak Japanese!” the tall one said.

“Well, of course, I am Japanese. How far are you going?”

“A place called Hanalei,” the tall one said.

“Want a ride? I’m on the way back there myself.”

“Great! Just what we were hoping for!” the stocky one said.

They put their bags in the trunk and started to climb into the backseat of Sachi’s Neon.

“Wait just a minute there,” she said. “I’m not going to have you both in back. This is no cab, after all. One of you sit in front. It’s plain good manners.”

They decided the tall one would sit in front, and he timidly got in next to Sachi, wrenching his long legs into the available space. “What kind of car is this?” he asked.

“It’s a Dodge Neon. A Chrysler car,” Sachi answered.

“Hmm, so America has these cramped little cars, too, huh? My sister’s Corolla maybe has more room than this.”

“Well, it’s not as if all Americans ride around in big Cadillacs.”

“Yeah, but this is really little.”

“You can get out right here if you don’t like it,” Sachi said.

“Whoa, I didn’t mean it that way!” he said. “I was just kinda surprised how small this is, that’s all. I thought all American cars were on the big side.”

“So anyway, what’re you going to Hanalei for?” Sachi asked as she drove along.

“Well, surfing, for one thing.”

“Where’re your boards?”

“We’ll get ’em there,” the stocky boy said.

“Yeah, it’s a pain to lug ’em all the way from Japan. And we heard you could get used ones cheap there,” the tall one added.

“How about you, lady? Are you here on vacation, too?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Alone?”

“Alone,” Sachi said lightly.

“I don’t suppose you’re one of them legendary surfers?”

“Don’t be crazy!” Sachi said. “Anyway, have you got a place to stay in Hanalei?”

“Nah, we figured it’d work out once we got there,” the tall one said.

“Yeah, we figured we can always sleep on the beach if we have to,” the stocky one said. “Besides, we ain’t got much money.”

Sachi shook her head. “It gets cold at night on the north shore this time of year—cold enough for a sweater indoors. Sleep outside and you’ll make yourselves sick.”

“It’s not always summer in Hawaii?” the tall one asked.

“Hawaii’s right up there in the northern hemisphere, you know. It’s got four seasons. The summers are hot, and winters can be cold.”

“So we’d better get a roof over our heads,” the stocky boy said.

“Say, lady, do you think you could help us find a place?” the tall one asked. “Our English is, like, nonexistent.”

“Yeah,” said the stocky boy. “We heard you can use Japanese anywhere in Hawaii, but so far it hasn’t surfers?”

“Don’t be crazy!” Sachi said. “Anyway, have you got a place to stay in Hanalei?”

“Nah, we figured it’d work out once we got there,” the tall one said.

“Yeah, we figured we can always sleep on the beach if we have to,” the stocky one said. “Besides, we ain’t got much money.”

Sachi shook her head. “It gets cold at night on the north shore this time of year—cold enough for a sweater indoors. Sleep outside and you’ll make yourselves sick.”

“It’s not always summer in Hawaii?” the tall one asked.

“Hawaii’s right up there in the northern hemisphere, you know. It’s got four seasons. The summers are hot, and winters can be cold.”

“So we’d better get a roof over our heads,” the stocky boy said.

“Say, lady, do you think you could help us find a place?” the tall one asked. “Our English is, like, nonexistent.”

“Yeah,” said the stocky boy. “We heard you can use Japanese anywhere in Hawaii, but so far it hasn’t “Never heard of it,” said the tall boy.

“You two don’t know anything, do you? You’d make perfect pigeons for those guys. Ice is a hard drug, and it’s everywhere in Hawaii. I don’t know exactly, but it’s some kind of crystallized upper. It’s cheap, and easy to use, and it makes you feel good, but once you get hooked on it you might as well be dead.”

“Scary,” said the tall one.

“You mean it’s OK to do marijuana?” asked the stocky one.

“I don’t know if it’s OK, but at least it won’t kill you. Not like tobacco. It might mess your brain up a little, but you guys wouldn’t know the difference.”

“Hey, that’s harsh!” said the stocky boy.

The tall one asked Sachi, “Are you one of those boomer types?”

“You mean…”

“Yeah, a member of the baby boom generation.”

“I’m not a ‘member’ of any generation. I’m just me. Don’t start lumping me in with any groups, please.”

“That’s it! You are a boomer!” said the stocky boy. “You get so serious about everything right away. Just like my mom.”

“And don’t lump me together with your precious ‘mom,’ either,” Sachi said. “Anyhow, for your own good, you’d better stay in a decent place in Hanalei. Things happen…even murder sometimes.”

“Not exactly the peaceful paradise it’s supposed to be,” the stocky boy said.

“No,” agreed Sachi. “The age of Elvis is long gone.”

“I’m not sure what that’s all about,” said the tall boy, “but I know Elvis Costello is an old guy already.”

Sachi drove without talking for a while after that.

Sachi spoke to the manager of her cottage, who found the boys a room. Her introduction got them a reduced weekly rate, but still it was more than they had budgeted for.

“No way,” said the tall one. “We haven’t got that much money.”

“Yeah, next to nothin’,” said the stocky one.

“You must have something for emergencies,” Sachi insisted.

The tall boy scratched his earlobe and said, “Well, I do have a Diners Club family card, but my dad said absolutely not to use it except for a real, honest-to-goodness emergency. He’s afraid once I start I won’t stop. If I use it for anything but an emergency, I’ll catch hell when I get back to Japan.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Sachi said. “This is an emergency. If you want to stay alive, get that card out right now. The last thing you want is for the police to throw you in jail and have some big Hawaiian make you his girlfriend for the night. Of course, if you like that kind of thing that’s another story, but it hurts.”

The tall boy dug the card out of his wallet and handed it to the manager. Sachi asked for the name of a store where they could buy cheap used surfboards. The manager told her, adding, “And when you leave, they’ll buy them back from you.” The boys left their packs in the room and hurried off to the store.

Sachi was sitting on the beach, looking at the ocean as usual the next morning, when the two young Japanese boys showed up and started surfing. Their surfing skills were solid, in contrast to their helplessness on land. They would spot a strong wave, mount it nimbly, and guide their boards toward shore with grace and sure control. They kept this up for hours without a break. They looked truly alive when they were riding the waves: their eyes shone, they were full of confidence. There was no sign of yesterday’s timidity. Back home, they probably spent their days on the water, never studying—just like her dead son.

Sachi had begun playing the piano in high school—a late start for a pianist. She had never touched the instrument before. She started fooling around with the one in the music room after classes, and before long she had taught herself to play well. It turned out she had absolute pitch, and an ear that was far above ordinary. She could hear a melody once and turn it into patterns on the keyboard. She could find the right chords for the melody. Without being taught by anyone, she learned how to move her fingers smoothly. She obviously had a natural, inborn gift for the piano.

The young music teacher heard her playing one day, liked what he heard, and helped her correct some basic fingering errors. “You can play it that way, but you can speed it up if you do it like this,” he said, and demonstrated for her. She got it immediately. A great jazz fan, this teacher instructed her in the mysteries of jazz theory after school: chord formation and progression, use of the pedal, the concept of improvisation. She greedily absorbed everything. He lent her records: Red Garland, Bill Evans, Wynton Kelly. She would listen to them over and over until she could copy them perfectly. Once she got the hang of it, such imitation became easy for her. She could reproduce the music’s sound and flow directly through her fingers without transcribing anything. “You’ve got real talent,” the teacher said to her. “If you work hard, you can be a pro.”

But Sachi didn’t believe him. All she could do was produce accurate imitations, not music of her own. When urged to adlib, she didn’t know what to play. She would start out improvising and end up copying someone else’s original solo. Reading music was another of her stumbling blocks. With the detailed notation of a score in front of her, she found it hard to breathe. It was far easier for her to transfer what she heard directly to the keyboard. No, she thought: there was no way she could become a pro.

She decided instead to study cooking after high school. Not that she had a special interest in the subject, but her father owned a restaurant, and since she had nothing else she particularly wanted to do, she thought she would carry the business on after him. She went to Chicago to attend a professional cooking school. Chicago was not a city known for its sophisticated cuisine, but the family had relatives there who agreed to sponsor her.

A classmate at the cooking school introduced her to a small piano bar downtown, and soon she was playing there. At first she thought of it as part-time work to earn some spending money. Barely managing to scrape by on what little they sent her from home, she was glad for the extra cash. The owner of the bar loved the way she could play any tune at all. Once she heard a song, she would never forget it, and even with a song she had never heard before, if someone hummed it for her, she could play it on the spot. She was no beauty, but she had attractive features, and her presence started bringing more and more people to the bar. The tips they left her also began to mount up. She eventually stopped going to school. Sitting in front of the piano was so much easier—and so much more fun—than dressing a bloody chunk of pork, grating a rock-hard cheese, or washing the scum from a heavy frying pan.

And so, when her son became a virtual high school dropout to spend all his time surfing, Sachi resigned herself to it. I did the same kind of thing when I was young. I can’t blame him. It’s probably in the blood.

She played in the bar for a year and a half. Her English improved, she put away a fair amount of money, and she got herself a boyfriend—a handsome African American aspiring actor. (Sachi would later spot him in a supporting role in Die Hard 2.) One day, however, an immigration officer with a badge on his chest showed up at the bar. She had apparently made too big a splash. the spot for working illegally. A few days later she found herself on a jumbo jet bound for Narita—with a ticket she had to pay for from her savings. So ended Sachi’s life in America.

Back in Tokyo, Sachi thought about the possibilities open to her for the rest of her life, but playing the piano was the only way she could think of to make a go of it. Her opportunities were limited by her handicap with written music, but there were places where her talent for playing by ear was appreciated—hotel lounges, nightclubs, and piano bars. She could play in any style demanded by the atmosphere of the place, the types of customer, or the requests that came in. She might be a genuine “musical chameleon,” but she never had trouble making a living.

She married at the age of twenty-four, and two years later gave birth to a son. The man was a jazz guitarist one year younger than Sachi. His income was virtually nonexistent. He was addicted to drugs, and he fooled around with women. He stayed out much of the time, and when he did come home, he was often violent. Everyone opposed the marriage, and afterward everyone urged Sachi to divorce him. Unpolished though he was, Sachi’s husband possessed an original talent, and in the jazz world he was gaining attention as an upcoming star.

This was probably what attracted Sachi to him in the first place. But the marriage lasted only five years. He suffered a heart seizure one night in another woman’s room, and died stark naked as they were rushing him to the hospital. It was probably a drug overdose.

Soon after her husband died, Sachi opened her own small piano bar in the fashionable Roppongi neighborhood. She had some savings, and she collected on an insurance policy she had secretly taken out on her husband’s life. She also managed to get a bank loan. It helped that a regular customer at the bar where Sachi had been playing was the head of a branch. She installed a used grand piano in the place, and built a counter that followed the shape of the instrument. To run the business, she paid a high salary to a capable bartender-manager she had decided to hire away from another bar. She played every night, taking requests from customers and accompanying them when they sang. A fishbowl sat on the piano for tips. Musicians appearing at jazz clubs in the neighborhood would stop by now and then to play a quick tune or two. The bar soon had its regular customers, and business was better than Sachi had hoped for. She was able to repay her loan on schedule. Quite fed up with married life as she had known it, she did not remarry, but she had men friends every now and then. Most of them were married, which made it all the easier for her. As time went by, her son grew up, became a surfer, and announced that he was going to go to Hanalei in Kauai. She didn’t like the idea, but she tired of arguing with him and reluctantly paid his fare. Long verbal battles were not her specialty. And so, while he was waiting for a good wave to come in, her son was attacked by a shark that entered the bay in pursuit of turtles, and ended his short life of nineteen years.

Sachi worked harder than ever once her son was dead. She played and played and played that first year, almost without letup. And when autumn was coming to an end, she took a three-week break, bought a business-class ticket on United Airlines, and went to Kauai. Another pianist took her place while she was gone.

Sachi sometimes played in Hanalei, too. One restaurant had a baby grand that was played on weekends by a string bean of a pianist in his midfifties. He would perform mostly harmless little tunes such as “Bali Hai” and “Blue Hawaii.” He was nothing special as a pianist, but his warm personality came through in his playing. Sachi got friendly with him and sat in for him now and then. She did it for fun, so of course the restaurant didn’t pay her anything, but the owner would treat her to wine and a plate of pasta. It just felt good to get her hands on the keys: it opened her up. This was not a question of talent or whether the activity was of any use. Sachi imagined that her son must have felt the same way when he was riding the waves.

In all honesty, however, Sachi had never really liked her son. Of course she loved him—he was the most important person in the world to her—but as an individual human being, she had had trouble liking him, which was a realization that it took her a very long time to reach. She probably would have had nothing to do with him had they not shared the same blood. He was self-centered, could never concentrate on anything, could never bring anything to fruition. She could never talk to him seriously about anything; he would immediately make up some phony excuse to avoid such talk. He hardly ever studied, which meant his grades were miserable. The only thing he ever lent some effort to was surfing, and there was no telling how long he would have kept that up. A sweet-faced boy, he never had a shortage of girlfriends, but after he had gotten what fun he could out of a girl, he would cast her off like an old toy. Maybe I’m the one who spoiled him, Sachi thought. Maybe I gave him too much spending money. Maybe I should have been stricter with him. But she had no concrete idea what she could have done so as to be stricter with him. Work had kept her too busy, and she knew nothing about boys—their psyches or their bodies.

Sachi was playing at the restaurant one evening when the two young surfers came in for a meal. It was the sixth day since they had arrived in Hanalei. They were thoroughly tanned, and they seemed to have a sturdier look about them now as well.

“Hey, you play the piano!” the stocky one exclaimed.

“And you’re good, too—a real pro,” chimed in the tall one.

“I do it for fun,” she said.

“Know any songs by the B’z?”

“No J-pop for me, thanks!” Sachi said. “But wait a minute, I thought you guys were broke. Can you afford to eat in a place like this?”

“Sure, I got my Diners Card!” the tall one announced.

“Yes, for emergencies…”

“Oh, I’m not worried. My old man was right, though. Use it once and it becomes a habit.”

“True, so now you can take it easy,” Sachi said.

“We were thinking we ought to buy you dinner,” the stocky boy said. “To thank you. You helped us a lot. And we’re goin’ home the day after tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” said the tall one. “How about right now? We can order wine, too. Our treat!”

“I’ve already had my dinner,” Sachi said, lifting her glass of red wine. “And this was on the house. I’ll accept your thanks, though. I appreciate the sentiment.”

Just then a large white man approached their table and stood near Sachi with a glass of whiskey in his hand. He was around forty and wore his hair short. His arms were like slender telephone poles, and one bore a large dragon tattoo above the letters “USMC.” Judging from its fading colors, the tattoo had been applied some years before.

“Hey, little lady, I like your piano playing,” he said.

Sachi glanced up at him and said, “Thanks.”

“You Japanese?”

“Sure am.”

“I was in Japan once. A long time ago. Stationed two years in Iwakuni. A long time ago.”

“Well, what do you know? I was in Chicago once for two years. A long time ago. That makes us even.”

The man thought about this for a moment, seemed to decide that she was joking, and smiled.

“Play something for me. Something upbeat. You know Bobby Darin’s ‘Beyond the Sea’? I wanna sing it.”

“I don’t work here, you know,” she said. “And right now I’m having a conversation with these two boys. See that skinny gentleman with the thinning hair sitting at the piano? He’s the pianist here. Maybe you ought to give your request to him. And don’t forget to leave him a tip.”

The man shook his head. “That fruitcake can’t play anything but wishy-washy queer stuff. I wanna hear you play—something snappy. There’s ten bucks in it for you.”

“I wouldn’t do it for five hundred.”

“So that’s the way it is, huh?” the man said.

“Yes, that’s the way it is,” Sachi said.

“Tell me something, then, will you? Why aren’t you Japanese willing to fight to protect your own country? Why do we have to drag our asses to Iwakuni to keep you guys safe?”

“And because of that I’m supposed to shut up and play?”

“You got it,” the man said. He glanced across the table at the two boys. “And lookit you two—a coupla Jap surf bums. Come all the way to Hawaii—for what? In Iraq, we—”

“Let me ask you a question,” Sachi interjected. “Something I’ve been wondering about ever since you came over here.”

“Sure. Ask away.”

Twisting her neck, Sachi looked straight up at the man. “I’ve been wondering this whole time,” she said, “how somebody gets to be like you. Were you born that way, or did something terrible happen to make you the way you are? Which do you think it is?”

The man gave this a moment’s thought and then slammed his whiskey glass down on the table. “Look, lady—”

The owner of the restaurant heard the man’s raised voice and hurried over. He was a small man, but he took the ex-marine’s thick arm and led him away. They were friends apparently, and the ex-marine offered no resistance other than a parting shot or two.

The owner came back shortly afterward and apologized to Sachi. “He’s usually not a bad guy, but liquor changes him. Don’t worry, I’ll set him straight. Meanwhile, let me buy you something. Forget this ever happened.”

“That’s okay,” Sachi said. “I’m used to this kind of thing.”

The stocky boy asked Sachi, “What was that guy saying?”

“Yeah, I couldn’t catch a thing,” the tall boy added, “except ‘Jap.’”

“It’s just as well,” Sachi said. “Never mind. Have you guys had a good time here in Hanalei? Surfing your brains out, I suppose.”

“Faaantastic!” said the stocky boy.

“Just super,” said the tall one. “It changed my life. No kiddin’.”

“That’s wonderful,” Sachi said. “Get all the fun you can out of life while you’re still able. They’ll serve you the bill soon enough.”

“No problem,” said the tall boy. “I’ve got my card.”

“That’s the way,” Sachi said, shaking her head. “Nice and easy.”

Then the stocky boy said, “I’ve been meaning to ask you something, if you don’t mind.”

“About what?”

“I was just wondering if you had ever seen the one-legged Japanese surfer.”

“One-legged Japanese surfer?” Sachi looked straight at him with narrowed eyes. “No, I never have.”

“We saw him twice. He was on the beach, staring at us. He had a red Dick Brewer surfboard, and his leg was gone from here down.” The stocky boy drew a line with his finger a few inches above his knee. “Like it was chopped off. He was gone when we came out of the water. Just disappeared. We wanted to talk to him, so we tried hard to find him, but he wasn’t anywhere. I guess he musta been about our age.”

“Which leg was gone? The right one or the left one?” Sachi asked.

The stocky boy thought for a moment and said, “I’m pretty sure it was the right one. Right?”

“Yeah, definitely. The right one,” the tall boy said.

“Hmm,” Sachi said and moistened her mouth with a sip of wine. She could hear the sharp, hard beating of her heart. “You’re sure he was Japanese? Not Japanese American?”

“No way,” the tall boy said. “You can tell the difference right away. No, this guy was a surfer from Japan. Like us.”

Sachi bit hard into her lower lip, and stared at them for some moments. Then, her voice dry, she said, “Strange, though. This is such a small town, you couldn’t miss seeing somebody like that even if you wanted to: a one-legged Japanese surfer.”

“Yeah,” said the stocky boy. “I know it’s strange. A guy like that’d stick out like a sore thumb. But he was there, I’m sure of it. We both saw him.”

The tall boy looked at Sachi and said, “You’re always sitting there on the beach, right? He was standing there on one leg, a little ways away from where you always sit. And he was looking right at us, kind of like leaning against a tree trunk. He was under that clump of iron trees on the other side of the picnic tables.”

Sachi took a silent swallow of her wine.

The stocky boy went on: “I wonder how he can stand on his surfboard with one leg? It’s tough enough with two.”

Every day after that, from morning to evening, Sachi walked back and forth along the full length of Hanalei’s long beach, but there was never any sign of the one-legged surfer. She asked the local surfers, “Have you seen a one-legged Japanese surfer?” but they all gave her strange looks and shook their heads. A one-legged Japanese surfer? Never seen such a thing. If I had, I’d be sure to remember. He’d stand out. But how can anybody surf with one leg?

The night before she went back to Japan, Sachi finished packing and got into bed. The cries of the geckos mingled with the sound of the surf. Before long, she realized that her pillow was damp: she was crying. Why can’t I see him? she wondered. Why did he appear to those two surfers—who were nothing to him—and not to me? It was so unfair! She brought back the image of her son’s corpse in the morgue. If only it were possible, she would shake his shoulder until he woke up, and she would shout at him—Tell me why! How could you do such a thing?

Sachi buried her face in her damp pillow for a long time, muffling her sobs. Am I simply not qualified to see him? she asked herself, but she did not know the answer to her own question. All she knew for sure was that, whatever else she might do, she had to accept this island. As that gentle-spoken Japanese American police officer had suggested to her, she had to accept the things on this island as they were. As they were: fair or unfair, qualified or unqualified, it didn’t matter. Sachi woke up the next morning as a healthy middle-aged woman. She loaded her suitcase into the backseat of her Dodge and left Hanalei Bay.

She had been back in Japan for some eight months when she bumped into the stocky boy in Tokyo. Taking refuge from the rain, she was drinking a cup of coffee in a Starbucks near the Roppongi subway station. He was sitting at a nearby table. He was nattily dressed, in a well-pressed Ralph Lauren shirt and new chinos, and he was with a petite, pleasant-featured girl.

“What a coincidence!” he exclaimed as he approached her table with a big smile.

“How’ve you been?” she asked. “Look how short your hair is!”

“Well, I’m just about to graduate from college,” he said.

“I don’t believe it! You?”

“Uh-huh. I’ve got at least that much under control,” he said, slipping into the chair across from her.

“Have you quit surfing?”

“I do some on weekends once in a while, but not much longer: it’s hiring season now.”

“How about beanpole?”

“Oh, he’s got it easy. No job-hunting worries for him. His father’s got a big Western pastry shop in Akasaka, says they’ll buy him a BMW if he takes over the business. He’s so lucky!”

Sachi glanced outside. The passing summer shower had turned the streets black. Traffic was at a standstill, and an impatient taxi driver was honking his horn.

“Is she your girlfriend?” Sachi asked.

“Uh-huh…I guess. I’m workin’ on it,” he said, scratching his head.

“She’s cute. Too cute for you. Probably not giving you what you want.”

His eyes went up to the ceiling. “Whoa! I see you still say exactly what you think. You’re right, though. Got any good advice for me? To make things happen, I mean…”

“There are only three ways to get along with a girl: one, shut up and listen to what she has to say; two, tell her you like what she’s wearing; and three, treat her to really good food. Easy, huh? If you do all that and still don’t get the results you want, better give up.”

“Sounds good: simple and practical. Mind if I write it down in my notebook?”

“Of course not. But you mean to say you can’t remember that much?”

“Nah, I’m like a chicken: three steps, and my mind’s a blank. So I write everything down. I heard Einstein used to do that.”

“Oh, sure, Einstein.”

“I don’t mind being forgetful,” he said. “It’s actually forgetting stuff that I don’t like.”

“Do as you please,” Sachi said.

Stocky pulled out his notebook and wrote down what she had said.

“You always give me good advice. Thanks again.”

“I hope it works.”

“I’ll give it my best shot,” he said, and stood up to go back to his own table. After a moment’s thought, he held out his hand. “You, too,” he said. “Give it your best shot.”

Sachi took his hand. “I’m glad the sharks didn’t eat you in Hanalei Bay,” she said.

“You mean, there are sharks there? Seriously?”

“Uh-huh,” she said. “Seriously.”

Sachi sits at the keyboard every night, moving her fingers almost automatically, and thinking of nothing else. Only the sounds of the piano pass through her mind—in one door and out the other. When she is not playing, she thinks about the three weeks she spends in Hanalei at the end of autumn. She thinks about the sound of the incoming waves and the sighing of the iron trees. The clouds carried along by the trade winds, the albatrosses sailing across the sky, their huge wings spread wide. And she thinks about what surely must await her there. That is all there is for her to think about now. Hanalei Bay.

Short story taken from Blind Willow, Sleeping Woman by Haruki Murakami

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