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a-is-for-abel · 3 years ago

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"“I’m moving.” He froze, glancing up at his friend. The other boy’s eyes were gleaming with suppressed sobs, breath hitching and jaw clenched. “Mom got a job in another state and we’re moving in a month.”

Inspired by this prompt by @givethispromptatry

Sand and shells crunched under the belly of the kayak as it ran aground. With a wobble and a curse he tumbled into the water, paddle floating away from him and kayak shooting off in the opposite direction.

"Fuck."

He scrambled to collect both, tossing the paddle up onto the beach and grabbing the handle at the bow of the kayak to tow it onto shore.

"You're late."

He rolled his eyes and glanced over his shoulder to see Warren in all his cut-offs and sandals glory. "And you're early."

Warren crossed his arms. "I'm literally the most on time, dude."

"Whatever, just-- Help me grab the stuff."

He popped open the watertight chamber in front of the seat and reached into the belly of the kayak, all while Warren struggled to pull the backpack out from under the cage of bungee cords at the front.

"Just unhook them, dude," he said, his cellphone and two unopened cream sodas finally in hand.

"Don't tell me how to do it."

"It's not going to--"

"Shit!" Warren yelped, recoiling and clutching his hand.

"Told you."

Warren flicked him off, but turned to do what he said anyway.

"Come on, suns gonna start setting soon." He grabbed his backpack from Warren and stuffed the drinks and his phone inside.

"What? Afraid of some gators?"

"No," he said. "Rather a gator than my dad."

Warren grimaced. "He still got you on that curfew?"

"Yup."

He picked his way through the mangrove thicket that cut the beach off from the rest of the spoil island. The roots of the black mangroves jutted up like fingers through the sand and the stilts of the red mangroves tried their best to snag his feet as he ducked under the sprawling web of an orb weaver hidden in their midst. Thankfully, it cleared out past the initial wall of foliage, becoming more barren with only the occasional thicket.

He remembered when his dad had led them through here the first time and explained that the mangroves kept the spoil islands standing. That when hurricanes and storms threatened to wash them away, their roots would act like a little army, keeping off any barrage and harboring whatever took up shelter under them.

He frowned. His dad and him hadn't come out here since--

"Fuck, fuck, fu--" Warren sputtered behind him, high-pitched.

"Web?" he asked, glancing back to see Warren flinching away from a tree.

"Yeah, fuck--" Warren brushed his arms off frantically and patted at his hair. "Fucking spiders all over the fucking place, man. They call it Mosquito Lagoon, but it really should be spider god damn la-- Fuck!"

"Nice one, ‘spider god damn la-fuck’ really has a special sort of ring to it."

Warren shot him a glare and dusted off his shoulders and the front of his shirt with quick flicks. "You owe me for psychological damages..."

"Come on, we used to come out here all the time."

"When I was like ten! And with your dad!" Warren cowered away from another web that sprawled from a lone tree. "And I didn't have as much free real estate for a spider to like, you know-- Crawl all over me or whatever."

"Free real estate?"

"Yeah, you know the whole--" Warren gestured vaguely. "The meme."

"God, please stop," he groaned. "That shits like, what, twenty-seventeen? That's like ancient history, man."

"It's a classic."

"Sure," he muttered. "A classic."

"Whatever, man, you're just not cultured."

He scoffed. "That's definitely it."

The other end of the island unfolded into a drop-off, all coquina and shells packed tightly together and built up into a mound that cut off abruptly into nothing. It was the highest point of the island-- of most of the spoils out here honestly-- even though it's small cliff had been eaten away and eroded over time, shrinking and shifting as the island shrank with the waves.

Dropping his backpack, he sat and dangled his legs over the edge, shoes knocking back against the coquina with a scratchy rasp. Warren plopped down beside him, keeping his legs folded and away from the plunge. Not that it was much of a sheer cliff. Only about eight feet down at the most, but enough that it felt like a lot. Compared to the average of three feet below sea level for the rest of the mainland; eight feet felt pretty fucking huge.

The tide lapped at the base of the island, the water hissing and coiling, writhing and alive where it squirmed through the holes bored through the coquina face and back out with a soft crackle. Crabs, tiny and mottled, darted in and around the rocks and he could see finger mullet, their scales flashing as they turned and twisted with the waves.

"You tied up your kayak, right?" Warren asked.

"Naw, but it should be fine. I pulled it up pretty far."

"I'm not sharing if you get stuck out here."

He frowned, shooting Warren his best puppy dog eyes. "You'd leave me out here?"

"Yes."

He chuckled. "Fair."

Seagulls drifted in lazy circles far overhead, the occasional cry working its way down to them as the birds banked with the wind, following the gusts up to where they could catch a glimpse of a meal beneath the water. One wheeled down in a sudden arc, wings folded close to its side as it plummeted, beak first, into the water with a snap and then back out with a spray.

"Man, tough luck..." Warren said. "Hate whenever they miss. Makes me feel kinda bad."

"They're just gonna go do what the rest do and steal some fries at the jetty once they realize it's easier than doing this."

"Yeah, but it's like-- I don't know, man. Just wish he'd get a win."

"You don't even know him!"

"I feel like we have a connection." Warren pointed at where the seagull had gone back to patrolling the waters. "Me and seagull number one thousand and three, we're like this--" He crossed his fingers.

"Shut up," he snorted.

They watched the seagull try again and fail.

Warren started up a running commentary after the third attempt, cupping a hand over his mouth to imitate the slight grain of a sports announcer's microphone as he dramatized the whole thing. When the seagull finally managed to snag a fish Warren cheered, arms thrown up in a touchdown motion that he copied with a grin.

"Hell yeah, dude!" Warren high-fived him.

"Where's all that enthusiasm for when you're at my games?" he asked.

"Come on, dude, you know I always cheer the loudest. You're just too far out on the field to hear me."

"I'm sure that's what it is."

"Whatever, man-- What'd you bring anyway?" Warren grabbed his backpack and began rummaging through it. "Oh shit! Gummy bears, dude! And the good kind, hell yeah!"

"Yeah, grabbed them before I came here. That's why I was late, idiot."

Warren tore open the package. "Crimes forgiven, man. This is worth it."

"Give me that--" He pulled his backpack out of Warren's lap. "I also got some soda, but I guess all you care about is your precious little bears."

"Naw, naw-- Hand that over."

"Rude much?"

"What? You want me to kiss you on the lips for it first, bro?"

He laughed. "Now, that would be the polite thing to do."

Warren puckered his lips at him and then snatched the soda. "Fuck off."

"Not even a little kiss?" he teased.

"You dragged me out to spider-fuck-nowhere, while it's ass fucking hot out and where it smells like rotting fish taint-- Just to watch the fucking sunset, when we could have sat on my roof and done the exact same thing-- You expect a kiss for that?"

He shrugged. "Yeah. Bro code."

Warren snorted. "Hand me a bottle opener, dip shit."

He popped open his own bottle and passed it over to Warren, who struggled for a moment before finally getting it with a triumphant 'whoop'. The mixture of saccharine flavored soda and the slight rotting stench of algae, and whatever else the lagoon had to offer, wasn't exactly pleasant, but it wasn't terrible. It was familiar.

It was homely in it's off kilter sort of way.

"So, why'd you bring me out here anyways?" Warren asked.

He sighed and kicked his heel back against the coquina. "I’m moving.”

Warren sucked in sharply and he glanced over at him.

He rubbed the back of his neck and looked down at the water below his feet. "Dad got a job in another state and we’re moving in a month.”

"Dude…"

"I didn't know how to tell you. I just--"

"Is that why you decided it'd be a good idea to sneak out and go to that dumb party with me?" Warren asked, frowning.

"I figured it would be one of the last chances I had to do something fun, you know. Here. Before I just-- Leave all this shit forever. I mean, we're moving to fucking Ohio, man. Where the fuck am I gonna find a party on an island out there?"

"Right…"

"And look, fuck my dad--"

"Jake--"

"No, fuck him-- He didn't even--" he huffed. "Things were looking up, man. Varsity lacrosse in sophomore year, that's huge, dude. And I wasn't just the fucking loser kid in the back of class anymore and he just--"

"Works rough here, dude..." Warren cut him off, sighing. "Space programs taking a shit. Whole island's taking a shit, really. Plenty of people left the first time NASA tanked, remember? It's just… it happens, man."

"So, you're just fine with it then?" he asked, brows furrowing. "We're never going-- I'm never going to see you again and you're just okay with that?"

"It's not forever!" Warren said, throwing out his hands. "There's planes, man! It's the twenty first fucking century. We got phones, dude. We'll stay in touch."

He grit his teeth and looked down.

"Jake, bro. C'mon-- Look at me."

He met Warren's eyes.

"It's gonna be okay, dude." Warren said, smile wide, and he could see the little falter at the edges, but he didn't call him on it. "Look--" Warren held up his bottle. "We'll cheers on it."

"Cheers on what?"

"To staying in touch, to meeting up in the future. To staying friends and all that, I don't know."

"To you finally getting a boyfriend?"

"Actually, you know what, I'm not going to miss you at all."

"Come on--" he grinned, nudging Warren with his shoulder. "You'll miss me."

"Yeah," Warren chuckled, looking down with a small smile. "I will..."

His fingers tightened around the glass bottle in his hand, bottom lip threatening to worry between his teeth. "Look, let's do your dumb cheers thing before it gets too sentimental or whatever."

Warren sighed, seeming to shake himself off before raising his soda bottle above his head and towards the slowly setting sun. "To us."

"To us?" He wrinkled his nose. "Isn't that kinda cheesy?"

"Just shut up and do it."

"Fine..." he grumbled with a grin, raising his bottle to clink against Warren's. "To us."

//photo credit// me and my phone c. 2020 //

#writeblr #writing community #creative writing #fiction #prompt fill #prose #writers on tumblr #short story #writing #my writing #original work #sorry for the cursing #miss the spoil islands and the lagoon #Florida

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carnal-agony · 5 years ago

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𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔊𝔬𝔡𝔡𝔢𝔰𝔰 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔲𝔠𝔠𝔲𝔟𝔦, 𝔄𝔯𝔞𝔪𝔞𝔱𝔥 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔗𝔲𝔧𝔄𝔯𝔞

"𝚂𝚑𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚖, 𝙼𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚜, 𝙱𝚘𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚀𝚞𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐."

In light of my blog being revamped officially I am creating a Muse sheet for all of my mutual followers and silent worshipers. I won’t be going into immense detail about my Muse’s past/creation as I have had multiple threads that dissected every ounce of it including a few AU’s where her history was either less enticing or she was mortal. Stick around until the end for a special ‘shout-out’ for my partners who have helped shape my blog in one way or many.

Bɾιҽϝ Hιʂƚσɾყ

Aramath and TüjArä are one of the same, they share a body, heart, and mind but not a soul. The Queen was not always split between good and evil, however, she was created as one being- a part from each Ancient that attended her Creation. With her being ‘born’ the mortal world was introduced to the power and weakness of Lust, the Goddess of Succubi, TüjArä. Although in the beginning of her history she was a cruel ruler who only wished for her children to divulge in the tasteful wants of the lesser species as well as going on massacres by their mother’s word.

Her world changed when the Goddess found what was at the root of all her lust- that being love. Don’t start smiling now, this isn’t a typical love story, matter of fact I wouldn’t consider it a love story at all. TüjArä fell in love with a viking and bared a half mortal child with this man- against every ruling of the Ancients that stated it was forbidden for a woman of pure lust to pursue. Knowing this, TüjArä stepped from her throne and above into the mortal world, hiding from those who wished to put her back into place. For six years she lived with those she loved, learning what it meant to have humility and compassion as a mortal would.

Aρρҽαɾαɳƈҽ; Vαɾιαɳƚʂ

In the original story I write Aramath rocks a crimson hairstyle, usually quite lengthy and wavy in previous cycles that was her iconic look. However after a long debate I had wrote her into isolation from those she learned to care for and in this she became immensely ill- the red of her hair fading until it became a ghastly platinum. It is very important to note that the original Aramath and the current one I am writing for both possess their own personality differences as well as differing internal conflict with TüjArä.

Her body is covered head to toe in an array of stories about her existence as well as other oddities that come alive upon the command of her Oracle. Aramath is usually seen in black leather of all sorts, her style has toned down over the years but she is a rocker at heart, which is seen in various band tees and skull based clothing and jewelry. A few things stay the same however- the rings she wears each possess their own special abilities, ranging from her own internal power to the unique array of her kind, Oracle, and lovers.

Wԋαƚ Gɾιɳԃʂ Hҽɾ Gҽαɾʂ

Aramath is a very tedious creature to write for, she is hot headed yet well tempered, childish at heart yet cold and stern mentally, and while she does not wish to end humanity anymore- that does not mean she is in love with humans. Most she can barely stand so she approaches with a bitter tongue and sharp wit, however when a very special few come to make her acquaintance they are met with soft smiles and the exposure of what a monster looks like when they are tamed. Humans are meat sacks to her, ones that have ruined the Earth they all inhabit due to their selfish ways and this mindset finds her at crossroads- she wishes to rid Mother Earth of the plaque that is humanity but that seems like a waste of good talent. Isn’t that a blessing in itself?

Creatures on the other hand; God or grunt they always amuse Aramath as she sees them full of themselves- no exclusion to her dear friends either. Being around for most species creation has come with clear visions of what the creatures are, humanized or not they all have a sense of higher being in this world dominated by meat sacks. However depending on your class and how you act, Aramath might just consider you something worthy.

Wԋαƚ Tσ Exρҽƈƚ

Well for starters, expect the unexpected my dear children of the night. Aramath as tamed as she is has a thirst for violence and agony, it gives her a sense of life just seeing the simple fear of women when she snatches the attention of their partners. Although she tends to keep the violence to more of a sexual nature she isn’t hesitant to rip off a man’s crotch or sew a demon’s lips shut, all while taking her sweet time. Don’t be mistaken just because she is a succubus that she will sleep with anyone- that is far, far from the truth.

Aramath does not ‘sleep around’, she goes through a very emotional process to choose who enters her bed. This isn’t just for the sake of morality however, to take a succubus use to be a very primal and romantic thing as their kind does not necessarily need to lay with someone to feed. Those who are chosen as special tend to experience hallucinations, feelings of true ecstasy, and in some cases Aramath shares her life experiences with them through touch. With this being said, it is important to understand pushing yourself upon this Goddess- will end with your head mantled on her fireplace. You’ve been warned.

EʂƚαႦʅιʂԋҽԃ Rҽʅαƚισɳʂԋι��ʂ; Tԋҽ Mυʅƚιʋҽɾʂҽ

Through the years I have been writing Aramath one thing is clear, once you have a place in her heart you will forever have that spot. This is no different for myself as I wouldn’t have lore if it weren’t for those who helped grow with me. These characters may be an OC or in their own universe- either way they are all loved equally. Here are a few of the characters I most frequently interact and/or click with during threads, some Aramath is very possessive over and others she views as equals. Please do not be discouraged if your muse is not on this list, it does not mean I love you any less my dears.

Henry Pearl, Sunset Peach, the Oracle of the Goddess.

@henry-pearl-battlecreek

Roman Godfrey, a White Tower Dragon in Prince skin.

Eddie Brock, Snarky Reporter, Kingsman In Training.

@venom-inside-you

Venom, Parasitic Terrestrial, Unknown Limits, Enjoys Flesh.

Pan, Horseman of Death, Man of Knowledge.

@thedarklibraryworld

Michael Langdon, Son of Satan, Your Dark Lord, Puppeteer of the Apocalypse.

Jerome and Jeremiah Valeska, A Pair of Laughs, Equally Charismatic and Deadly.

Kai Anderson, Terrifying Candidate, Godlike Ego, Could Make Me Drink the Kool-Aid.

Iɳƚҽɳƚισɳʂ

If you want angst, joy, or death Aramath is the girl to go with. She is very versatile in every aspect that I write her, if you wish to have a particular plot please invade my inbox so we can discuss what you’d like. If not, I frequently post open threads with an already settled plot, starter calls, and interactive dialogues. Never be afraid to send a meme or random prompts into my inbox, I love interacting with my followers!

Mυɳɳҽԃ

Now as we get to the end of this long, long sheet I just want to take a moment and say a few things as a Mun. I- am so terrible about timely responses, between working, streaming, and studying for my degree I do not find a lot of time for my writing passion. However, if you bare with me through the odd times of night when my responses flow I promise you we will have amazing threads together. Now that you know a little about my existence let’s get my blog rules out of the way;

ℝ𝕌𝕃𝔼𝕊

No persons under the age of 18 allowed- period. This blog has intense scenes and NSFW threads, I will not be held responsible for the corruption of children so turn away now or blocking will occur.

As much as I preach love and acceptance, absolutely NO threads will occur with me that involve animals or characters under the age of 18. I do not condone the act of pretending to be an underage child, nor will I bring children in as extras to my thread.

Unless your character is an actual God of some sort, do not attempt to God-mod our threads, I will not allow it to happen and it will terminated immediately. Clarification: Yes you can toss my Muse, but no you cannot kill them (unless discussed or of course- you’re Pennywise.)

Sexual themed threads must be discussed with Mun prior to the beginning of it, if not my character will act as normal- and your muse will lose a hand or two. Discussing is a key point when it comes to certain topics in writing, and as everyone says, Consent is Key.

Remember, we’re all here to enjoy ourselves with our characters, even if the thread is violent and hateful please remember. I am not my Muse and my Muse is not me, you are allowed to spit and curse them but do not dare step past that line and spew venom at me. I have a zero tolerance for drama, hate, or sheer stupidity.

Fιɳαʅ Cσɱɱҽɳƚʂ

Well my loves we’re at the end, it is time to say my final goodbyes as I finish off this sheet on a good note. I will always be open to new partners, new ideas, new universes so please again- never feel scared to shoot me random things. With this revamp I am turning my engines over and putting the pedal to the metal- and it’s only just beginning. With all love, and secret lust- Shalom and Blessed Be.

{Will be updating frequently throughout these next few weeks, stay tuned!}

#{OOC}#{Mun Sheet}#{Ara}#{Aramath}#{Details}#{Rules}

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rainofaugustsith · 5 years ago

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Video Game Meme!

Thank you so much for the tag @vailed-legacy! Tagging...um...let’s see. @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond @verbose-vespertine @berriku @tishinada @dreamy04 @shimmersing NO PRESSURE loves! <3 ** Hello! I decided to make a tag that would allow me to get to know more about my followers and their favorite video games! If you love talking about video games and their characters, this is your chance! Rules: Fill in your answers below and tag some buddies! Games First game you ever played: Pac-Man in the arcade. What? I'm an 80s kid. Favorite game: SWTOR. Game you’ve played through multiple times: SWTOR, and a lot of the Zeldas, Castlevanias and Marios, among others. If the game is fun and I enjoy the journey to the end, I’ll likely play again if I can. Game you hated at first but now love: I don't know, really. Game you used to love but now hate: Same. Your favorite game atmosphere/setting(s): SWTOR. There are also a few games I've played with really, really well researched historical content and design, and it makes you feel like you're there. I love that sort of immersion. Game with the best group/companion(s): SWTOR and DA:O are really the only games I've played with many companions. I started Mass Effect but didn't get through it. A game with your favorite ending: The end of the Sith Warrior, Sith Inquisitor and Smuggler class stories in SWTOR are pretty sweet. The end of KOTET - for the moment, everything is OKAY. A game with the WORST ending: This is a really old one, but there's an ancient Castlevania game - is it Simon's Quest? - that still stands out as the worst. 2 out of the 3 endings are terrible. I still remember getting through that and thinking WTF JUST HAPPENED.

The end of Onslaught in SWTOR isn't pleasing me much either. Best character customization?: I like SWTOR, although I'm very salty that the body types for women are not more diverse and that there's not a lot of diversity of hair styles either. Hero and Companions Your favorite playable character: Viri, my Sith Warrior in SWTOR. The funniest playable character: The Smuggler in SWTOR is hilarious. It's comedy hour playing through content with the smuggler. Your favorite companion(s): In SWTOR, Lana Beniko, Vette, Talos, Blizz, Darth Hexid, Paxton Rall, T7-O1, Hk-51, HK-55, Felix Iresso, Nadia Grell, Risha, Akaavi Spar, Mako. In DA:O, Leliana, Alistair, Zevran and the Dog. In the old Castlevania game, Alucard was the best companion to take along because he could fly. Companions you could live without: Arcann, Senya, Doc, Skadge and Quinn, and I'll do everything I can to get rid of them and minimize interactions with them. Relationships Favorite game friendship(s): In SWTOR: Vette and the Sith Warrior, for the win. I also love Mako and the BH; Blizz and the BH; T7-O1 and the Jedi Knight; Risha and the Smuggler; Khem Val and the Sith Inquisitor; and Talos Drellik and the Sith Inquisitor. In DA:O, I love the friendly bond a Warden can have with Alistair and Zevran. Favorite game relationship(s): Lana Beniko/Female Sith Warrior; Anri/OC; Female Jedi Consular/Nadia after Ossus. And ETA how could I forget JC/Felix Iresso? In DA:O, I love Leliana/Female Warden. Favorite companion banter: In DA:O, Alistair vs. Wynne or Morrigan is pure gold. A relationship you loved but went bad: Not really any. I am very picky about the relationships I do with characters. I suppose I could say Torian/BH here, because SHE DIDN'T MEAN TO ROMANCE HIM. My BH Taran is a 30 year old lesbian. There was a conversation where the only choices were to flirt or be completely rude, and that was enough to lock in a relationship she could not end. O_o So that ended the buddy friendship she had with Torian and made the rest of their class story interactions reeeeaaally awkward for me. A relationship you weren’t sure of but loved: Andronikos/Sith Inquisitor turned out way better than I expected. A character you wish you COULD romance: Jaxo in the trooper story. Lord Zavrasha in the Nar Shaddaa Imperial bonus series. A minor character you wish could be a companion: Jaxo. Cytharat. Urtel Moren from the Sith Inquisitor story or Fimm from the Sith Warrior story on Alderaan. Lokir-Ka, the Voss contact in the smuggler story who can have a fling with your PC. Fun Shoutout to a random NPC: That woman in the Odessen Alliance base that does nothing but take swigs from her flask. Runner up: the one who is rolling on the floor laughing in the cantina. A game you love watching playthroughs for and want to play: I don't enjoy watching playthroughs. The only time I ever look at game play videos is when I'm trying to figure out a fight or navigation and the written guides aren't making enough sense to me. Or when I want to see cut scenes. Love watching playthroughs but won’t ever play: "" As for games I'll never play, anything that is only multiplayer, anything based around PvP, and I don't dig blood and gore. Online gaming or solo?: Solo. In SWTOR I have chat and all invites turned off and I do everything I can to avoid other people. I do have a few friends I love to play SWTOR with, but it's overwhelming if I do that too often, and I get really flustered and overwhelmed if it's more than one or two people at a time. Why do you play video games?: It's really fun. It's escapism. The environments and music and design can be amazing.

#All about Rain #asks

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etraytin · 4 years ago

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Quarantine, Day 92

June 11

Tonight at dinner we were having a conversation about something that I cannot for the life of me remember right now, but it ended with some character making a real conversation-ending zinger. The kiddo chimed in gleefully with "and then the pixel sunglasses slide down over his eyes!" Both my husband and I are Aware of All Internet Traditions, we both recognized the description of the Deal With It meme and laughed. I then turned to my husband and realized "We are about twenty years away from full Darmok and Jalad at Tenagra." After a moment's thought, he agreed, and we laughed the nervous laugh of people who are not sure whether that is okay. The more time I spend on Tumblr, the more I notice myself and others around me using memes and cultural moments as shorthand for concepts that would otherwise take a long time to describe. The kiddo, especially, loves describing his reactions to things by describing his favorite gifs and memes. His Nana was totally lost for the entire conversation.

Anyway, today involved an unusual amount of getting out of the house for me, by which I mean I made three trips and spent about 45 minutes actually inside a building that wasn't the house. That time was spent at the local urgent care, getting a couple X-rays of the kiddo's poor swollen toes. Turns out there are no breaks, hurrah, just a very nasty jam that is going to hurt for a little while. They buddy-taped his toes and showed me how to do it, while also commenting on the fact that those two toes on him were already naturally slightly webbed. This alarmed him, then amused him when I assured him it was harmless. He asked if this meant that the apes were phonies and we were really descended from ancient ducks.

In other exciting doctor news, the kiddo is now officially five feet tall, which is only six inches shorter than I am. This is extremely unfair considering that he is TEN YEARS OLD. My husband is 6'3, his dad was too, so I pretty much knew this was coming but I thought I'd have more time! The kiddo is, of course, extremely pleased with this development and I anticipate much teasing in my future. So the kiddo gets his height and his slightly webbed toes from his father, his hair and sense of humor from me, and we still have no idea where he gets the brown eyes from. The punnet square that puts together hazel and blue to get brown is weird and I don't trust it, but here we are. Not too often that a hidden dominant gene expresses itself after skipping at least two generations!

After we came back from the doctor and ate lunch, I popped over to the city to pick MIL up from her medical treatment and wound up hanging out in the car for a little while til she was done. They definitely aren't letting any looky-loos in the hospital still, but the car has excellent air conditioning and it was okay. Then later on still in the day, she and I went out and picked up take-out food for dinner. I remember all these things clearly because they are doing road construction at the intersection of our neighborhood and the main road today, so I had to navigate that six times, and every damn time the configuration of cones and flaggers was slightly different. No idea what they're actually doing there, but it involves a lot of backhoes.

Today was also a day for finishing up the taxes. Ughhhhhh. It was not as terrible as some other tax days because today I basically just took dictation for MIL as she read off different medical expenses receipts and then added them all up for her at the end. Very little actual thought involved, and easy math. Tomorrow is going to be busy, but hopefully we can get to the post office and mail those off to the accountant, who will probably do all the math again anyway. But it's done, and that's the important part!

I got a break at bedtime tonight, my husband took over kiddo duty and spent the time in the fort listening to the podcasts so I could have a night off. He did have something of an ulterior motive, as I was super far behind in our online Mutants and Masterminds game and this gave me a chance to catch up in a half-dozen threads, but it was still a nice gesture and a nice break. My back certainly appreciates less time spent laying on the floor! We also finished Book Two of Avatar, so it's getting very exciting now. I'm going to be sort of sad when the rewatch is over, but at least I’ll be able to introduce the kiddo to the wide world of Avatar fanfiction.

#quarantine #mutants and masterminds #atla #Star Trek TNG

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roseverdict · 5 years ago

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Bent Out Of Shape (Part 5: Forever Creased)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 so tumblr hates my guts rn so im just gonna hold off on embedding links this time, but check my "bent out of shape update" tag for the rest, it's nothing but chapters without any of the meme screams i tend to drop in the "bent out of shape" tag ekcjdjcbdkc

i lost my first post to the tumblr draft void and i dont wanna try to rewrite my original note xksjdkkdjd rip me

Content warnings: None! :D At least, I don't think so. It's the same sort of stuff as the past few parts so it should be fine. I'm super-tired skxbskcbdkdjd

〜〜〜〜〜〜

Mystery laughed, a quiet, disbelieving laugh. (When had his pups become so strong?) "Well, it is a long, winding tale, but one we may not have time for. Suffice it to say, the plant spirit, Shiromori, has been after me for a long time. She craves the power that she receives from my lifeblood, and she's proven to me before that she's willing to bleed me dry if given the chance."

Vivi was already pacing, holding a hand to her chin in thought. "Hm, yeah, the lifeblood of a kitsune would definitely fall under 'ultimate power-up,' wouldn't it?" She turned back to them and threw a fist into her empty palm, a determined grin growing. "We'll just have to make sure she never gets the chance, then!"

"How are we gonna stop her?" Arthur asked. "I doubt she'd just let us waltz on up and yeet her into Lewis's flames this time. We've already done that once, so she has to be expecting it."

"Whatever we do, we have to figure it out soon. It's getting darker and darker already." Lewis pointed out.

"Hey, Mystery, y'think you could help me work out my magic some before we go out there, fists a-swinging?" Vivi asked. "You're an ancient fox spirit, and Art and Lewis can't die again, but I wanna be able to hold my own if this Shiromori targets me again."

The idea made him pause. Vivi, for all her boisterous, blustering enthusiasm, was still only human. Granted, a human who kept the company of powerful spirits and held the strongest magic in her family's bloodline for generations, but…

…still so easily snuffed out.

"If you two wanna get started on a crash course in supernatural self-defense, I can go keep an eye out?" Arthur suggested, pointing out the window. "In case Shiromori shows up and we need to get ready to throw down?"

"Please do." Mystery nodded, the idea setting him a bit more at ease. "If any of the plants start doing anything more than growing, give us a shout. She will be well on her way here by then."

"I'll go with you." Lewis set a hand on Arthur's left shoulder before he could leave. "Two heads are better than one, right?"

Mystery watched with a small smile as Arthur grinned. "Right. C'mon, let's go keep watch."

As the ghosts left the living room, Vivi turned back to him. "So, how's this whole 'magic' thing supposed to work?"

Mystery's fond smile shifted to a more stern line. It was time to inform Vivi of her true strength.

"At its core, magic is a manifestation of will. Supernatural beings have an easier time of accessing it, due to the lack of solidity holding them together." He began, noting with pride how Vivi paid rapt attention. "The physical form of the average human gives them plenty of opportunities to change the world around them, so any dormant magical power within them often stays that way. Only in the events of an emotionally intense moment, or a terrible death, will that magic make itself known."

"You mean like that whole mess at Kingsmen?" Vivi asked, eyes wide.

"Exactly like that whole mess at Kingsmen." Mystery nodded. "In the case of dying, the magic almost always congeals into a ghostly form around the dead person's soul, affected by their personality and the way they died."

Vivi's eyes drifted to the hallway Lewis and Arthur had gone down, and Mystery hurried to draw her mind back to the impromptu lesson.

"In your case, however, you were surrounded by supernatural beings as emotions ran higher and higher until finally…" He flicked his paw to the side, trying to figure out how to phrase it. "…the magic within your spirit awoke. We can work on finer control and formal incantations later. The quickest way to bring it back to the surface, at least at first, is to try and recreate the emotions you were feeling at the time. So, Vivi…"

She blinked, her mind already whirling as Mystery finished.

"What exactly were you thinking about?"

Vivi frowned, plopping back down on the couch. "Well, I was confused, but more than that…I knew whatever was going on wasn't gonna end well. Lewis was back, even though I didn't know it, and Arthur wasn't in the van when I came to, so he had to have been in danger. There was a crazy plant lady, Shiromori, trying to get to you, so you had to have been in danger. All I could do was grab my bat and start swinging, and heaven help anyone who hurt my friends-!"

Mystery gasped. The sight of a magic-user intentionally calling forth their power for the first time still filled him with the same awe as it had hundreds of years ago.

Vivi's fists crackled and snapped with the deathly chill of a thousand midwinter nights, and frost slowly inched over her skin. Her heart still beat, so he knew she wasn't giving herself frostbite, but as the ice bloomed up her forearms, he found himself shivering in the sudden cold.

The movement seemed to snap Vivi out of her trancelike state, and the biting cold receded with her surprised giggle. "Whoa…did I do this?" She lifted her fists up to her face, watching the ice melt into thin air until she could move her fingers freely again.

"I do believe you're one of the most powerful mages I'll ever have the pleasure of tutoring." Mystery managed a dumbfounded chuckle. "Congratulations, Vivi."

"Sweeeeeeet…" A wide grin slowly worked its way onto Vivi's face, and she seemed to be about to ask him something, but-

Thud-thud! Thud-thud-thud!

Click! Squeeeak…

Thwack!

"UNCLE LANCE?!"

Arthur's voice drowned out Lewis's shout of "Mr. Kingsmen!!!" when it came a split second later.

Mystery was peering out at the entryway in a blink, and Vivi wasn't far behind.

Arthur and Lewis looked to be getting Lance inside and away from the foliage outside, with Lewis holding the door shut as Arthur propped Lance up to sit against the wall.

"Mr. Kingsmen! Are you okay?" Vivi yelped, rushing forward to help Arthur keep him upright.

Lance coughed, and while he spat up orange-brown chunks, a moment's glance assured them all that it was just sand, as did Galaham's squeaking in his pocket.

Although that begged the question of just why he was coughing up sand in the first place.

"Y'know that loopy tree woman?" He countered, pushing himself up with the mangled remains of his shotgun and wheezing for air. "She popped up in the parking lot and started ransacking the place, probably for you." He nodded to Mystery before continuing. "She got fed up with not knowing where you'd gone and just…raised a pine tree, of all things, right through the lot before leaving. I got hit with the sand she kicked up, but aside from that and…" a gasp, "…and running all the way here when I'm not in my prime anymore, I'm fine."

After remembering oh right, he'd blown his cover, Mystery gave each of his pups a quick nod. "Get him to a chair for him to catch his breath, and then we have to move."

"Got it." Arthur returned the nod, helping Lance get to his feet and down the hall.

"From what I heard, it sounded like the magic lesson was going well?" Lewis offered them a grin.

Vivi beamed and wiggled her fingers. "Yeah! Turns out I've got some super-cool ice magic powers!"

Lewis chuckled at her enthusiasm. "Sounds like you were having a bla-wait."

He narrowed his eyes at her.

She turned the cheekiness up to 11.

Mystery wished he had a hand with which to slap his face.

Vivi broke the standoff first. "Hahahah, no but seriously, I think I had Mystery shivering from the cold, and I had some sick ice boxing-glove-thingies!"

Lewis's face filled with the dopiest, most love-struck smile Mystery had seen in quite a while, and he just let the silence speak for him.

Arthur chose this moment to come back. "Alright, Uncle Lance is all set up, and I think I did something?" He lifted his hand in explanation, letting a few residual sparks fade away. "I'm not sure what, but I'm pretty sure Shiromori's not gonna be able to touch him now. Magic and intent, right, Mystery?"

Mystery tilted his head, feeling for the hastily-erected ward in the living room, crackling with Arthur's trademark DIY-ness but unceremonious and steady and safe. He smiled. "Indeed. He should be alright as long as we take care of Shiromori soon."

"Then let's get cracking!" Vivi threw a fist into the air, shimmering ever-so-slightly from the magic still flitting about her edges.

〜〜〜〜〜〜

If things had been different, Vivi figured the sight around her would have flung her to cloud nine and beyond. A spectral entity of incredible power, manifesting in the desert with flora from all across the world, with the ability to assume a more mobile humanoid form? It wouldn't just make her day, it'd make her year!

But Shiromori wasn't there to play games.

Vivi let the frost creep up past her wrists as she led the others through the trees and cacti and countless other plants she couldn't even begin to dream up. "Any idea where she'd try to look for you, Mystery?"

Mystery trotted a little closer to her, his brow furrowed in that way that normal dogs could never manage. "Probably places where my essence is strongest. Kingsmen Mechanics, the Paradiso, and your house. Since you live across town from the others, however, she will likely check your house last."

There came the sound of fire snapping, and Lewis's voice only confirmed his worry. "But, if she was, if she was already at Kingsmen, then-"

"I guess we're heading to Pepper Paradiso." Arthur cut him off, and Vivi could picture the reassuring hand he'd put on Lewis's shoulder.

Not because she was looking, however much she wanted to see them enjoying each other's company after the terrible, rank debacle their friendship had become.

Her eyes were instead trained on the sight of writhing plant life where the Paradiso was meant to be.

"Good news!" She forced her voice to stay peppy. "We know where she is! Bad news! The Pepper Paradiso is a mess!"

The others rushed up to stand (or float) at her side, Lewis to her left, Mystery and Arthur to her right.

"I'm not sensing any deaths…" Lewis managed, his eyesockets wide.

(Arthur's shocked "Wait, we can do that???" went largely ignored for the moment.)

The hackles on Mystery's back bristled, and deep red flickered out from the base of his tail. "We can't afford to waste any more time!"

"Don't gotta tell me twice!" Vivi ground out, sprinting forward as ice bloomed beneath her feet, lasting just long enough to ensure she wouldn't get tripped up by vines before evaporating again. Behind her, she heard Arthur and Lewis flare up, and soon they were neck and neck, with the steadily-growing Mystery just behind them.

Hah. A newly-empowered frost mage with ice encasing her limbs, two skeleton ghosts with affinities for fire and electricity, and a kitsune on the lam, and all four of them were getting ready to do battle with a tree spirit who had pretty much taken over Tempo.

If her past self had known she was going to experience this, she probably would've spontaneously combusted in excitement.

Needless to say, she thought they made a pretty intimidating impression once they got to the Paradiso.

What she hadn't counted on was seeing the rest of the Pepper family strung up in vines better suited for a jungle or rainforest, with customers restrained to their seats.

She had also not counted on Shiromori nonchalantly lounging on one of the diner's tables, as if just waiting for them to bust down the door.

Her words were Japanese, but in much the same way that Vivi had recently caught the occasional stray emotion off of Lewis or Arthur, she understood the meanings loud and clear. "I was wondering when you children might show up. I went to all the trouble of getting this little party together, and it would have been a shame if you'd never caught on, you know."

It seemed Vivi wasn't the only one to Know what Shiromori said, for Arthur took a step forward, his anchor pitter-pattering to the tune of blues and reds and an overwhelming magenta. "What is your problem, lady? What did they do to get you to hold them hostage?!"

"Why, nothing!" Shiromori laughed, swinging her stubby legs over the table's edge and sliding off. Her words slunk through their minds like over-greased, soggy fries. (Or maybe Vivi was just hungry and smelling what had been cooking before Shiromori had shown up.) "I just needed a way to get your 'pet' to come to me! And it worked, did it not?"

Lewis's hand came down on Vivi's left shoulder, and she saw Arthur freeze up for a moment as the other hand met his right shoulder. Quietly, his voice popping in and out like TV static, he murmured, "You two go get them free. Mystery and I can take care of this."

Shiromori lifted a not-eyebrow, as if the sight before her was somewhat amusing. "Oh? You feel you can take me on, little ghostling? Even while surrounded by plant life under my power? In a building you couldn't bring yourself to burn?"

Lewis didn't respond.

Mystery did.

"NOW!"

And the Mystery Skulls went on the offensive.

#msa #mystery skulls animated #mystery skulls #vivi yukino #vivi #arthur kingsmen #arthur #ghost!arthur #lewis pepper #lewis #rosie writes #bent out of shape #bent out of shape update

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tr33-g1rl · 6 years ago

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Commentary Crew/Second Squad in my Modern/Young Gods/Immortals AU

Kingani:

A young goddess of platonic love and beauty that works at an old fashioned diner that has a pink-and-turquoise theme and has the staff wear vintage 50′s swing clothes. She mostly wears dresses with fruit and floral patterns, but with a leather jacket on top. She is the only member of the staff that doesn’t have a name tag, but the other crew member have names if several different ancient languages.

Example ritual: At 12:15 pm, she takes her lunch break in the booth by the jukebox. Give her a piece of whatever pie is being served that day and tell her a joke. If it isn’t a funny joke, she will smile and say thank you, and that’s as far as it will go. If it’s a funny joke, she will laugh joyously. You must leave the diner before she stops laughing and walk or drive back to your home. When you get home, take a nap or got to bed for the night. When you wake up, look in the mirror and be happy with the results. Remember to say thank you the next time you see her working. A tip is appreciated, as well, but not expected. Another slice of pie isn’t considered a tip, but another sacrifice, and making another request without thanking her first will reverse the results of the first request.

Favorite gifts: Pies and other such pastries, lilies, unworn friendship bracelets, bows made of turquoise ribbon, stuffed animals (especially cats and lambs), locket necklaces, tinsel, and pretty cupcake wrappers.

Kwite:

A young god with power over luck and misfortune that only recently escaped from the SCP foundation. Currently hiding out in an abandoned apartment building in a ghost town, he’s not easy to find. Or, he wouldn’t be, if he would quit posting reviews on the town. The strange things is that his reviews talk about the town as if it’s still populated and bustling...

Example ritual: Print out a review of a long-dead business on a piece of colored paper. Fold the paper into a basic paper airplane and throw into the wind with the nose of the plane facing in the general direction of the closest four-way stop. Do not watch the airplane to see where it goes. Immediately cover your eyes and turn your back to it and walk away. You may uncover your eyes after exactly two minutes. What will happen next depends entirely on the business, the review and the paper color you used at the beginning of the ritual, but most of the time it will result in a new business opening near your house that you will spend copious amounts of time at.

Favorite gifts: Sodas in glass bottles, colorful paper clips, unused glowsticks, wind up toys, unusual photos from garage sales, any form of spicy chips, batteries (mainly AA), and newspaper comics.

FPS Diesel:

A young oracle turned immortal only a few years ago and is still getting used to it. That being said, he enjoys testing its limits by saying whatever is on his mind to whoever he pleases. His predictions usually come when he is in the middle of doing his reps. His eyes go dark as a night sky with his pupils swirling like a spiral galaxy as he speaks with the voices of people he’s never heard before. The first time this happened, he dropped his weight on his foot.

Example ritual: Find him in the gym’s parking lot and give him either five dollars, an energy drink or a pack of ramen. Ask him for a someone’s story, but do not use their name. Say “My story” or “My friend’s story” or “The man’s story” His eyes will go dark for only twenty-one seconds before he responds. He will either respond in a nonchalant tone, with a laugh or with no words, only 'tsk’. If he says it in a nonchalant tone, thank him but do nothing. If he laughs after he speaks, thank him and spend an equivalent to whatever you gave him on your way home. If he only gives a sympathetic click of his tongue, nod solemnly and say nothing as you leave.

Favorite gifts: Energy drinks, cheap “college kid” food, tennis shoes that are in good to decent condition, college textbooks, diaries filled out but with no name on them, water bottles, broken technology and bags of homemade trail mix.

Aksually:

A trickster god of chaos that has the ability to teleport, but should NOT be allowed to. Constantly uses his powers to ‘covert barter’, a.k.a steal something, but leave something of equal measure in its place. Could pull off a great heist with his powers, but instead chooses to reach through a portal to pull the others’ earbuds out in the middle of a song.

Example ritual: Find an item which you have diminished the quality of and that you do not mind loosing. Mess it up even further, until it is hardly worth anything. Take it outside and set it at the closest stop sign or yield sign, or in the bed of the closest truck. Whistle a high-pitched note before turning and walking back inside your place of residence. When you get inside, you will find something on your bed to replace the item you got rid of. It will be of much higher value and will come with a note that says something in an unknown language. You will not be able to find what language it is.

Favorite gifts: Lock-picking sets, sugary candies, hoodies with patterns that incredibly irritating to the eye, cheesy prank items, CDs with terrible remixes of songs, pictures of memes, knock-off brand items and video cameras.

(Will add more later, but gotta go rn and I just want this out there)

#commentary crew #fantasy commentary crew au #fantasy au #second squad #kingani #kwite #fps diesel #aksually #quackityhq #quackity #wildspartanz #hooverr #hoover #pyrocynical #kappa kaiju #bluesdank

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drowning-in-dennor · 5 years ago

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To Know

Henrik and Stellan answer questions about each other. (Warning: Crass jokes, sappiness, many, many innuendos.) All the questions were taken from here.

[Stellan picks up the sheet of paper, glaring at it as though personally offended. Henrik, laughing, swipes it out of his hand and adjusts the camera.]

Henrik: Hey, everyone! Today we’re doing some sort of challenge. I honestly don’t know what this is, but... yeah! Let’s do this!

[Staring nervously at the camera, Stellan reaches over to take Henrik’s hand.]

Stellan: Yeah, let’s get this over with.

Question One: Describe them when you first met.

Henrik: Cute!

Stellan: Annoying.

[Henrik pouts and stares at Stellan.]

Stellan: You walked up to me while I was reading and went, “yo, is that H.C. Andersen?”, then proceeded to grab the book out of my hands. Asshole.

Question Two: How tall are they?

Stellan: A hundred and eighty-three centimetres.

Henrik: One seventy-nine.

Question Three: What’s their ancestry background?

Stellan: Yeah, this one’s obvious.

Henrik: Easy.

Stellan: Danish-Swedish, born on Gotland.

Henrik: And Stell’s Norwegian-Icelandic, grew up on Svalbard.

Question Four: When’s their birthday?

Henrik: May seventeenth.

Stellan: June fifth.

[They look at each other. Henrik cracks a grin.]

Henrik: Don’t ask about the year. We don’t remember.

Question Five: What’s the first thing they’d buy if they won the lottery?

Stellan: Enough cloth and thread to clothe an army, along with probably all the embroidery supplies the world has to offer.

Henrik: A butter factory.

[Stellan groans, smacking his forehead.]

Stellan: No.

Henrik: Hold up, what?

Stellan: I’d probably use it to buy some land and grow stuff. Or I’d buy those big oil companies and order them to switch to natural resources.

Henrik: That’s my Stell, always caring about the environment.

[Henrik leans over to kiss Stellan on the cheek.]

Question Six: What’s their favourite band?

Henrik: Stellan’s not a band person.

[Stellan rolls his eyes.]

Stellan: Our band. And yes, we have a band.

Henrik: You bet your ass we have a band! It’s the best one in Europe, if you ask me.

Stellan: Please don’t remind me.

Question Seven: What’s their favourite meal?

[Henrik grins suggestively.]

Stellan: I know what you’re going to say, don’t say it.

Henrik: My a-

Stellan: Don’t you dare.

Henrik: My apple tarts. Seriously, he asks me to make them all the time.

[Stellan hides his face in his hands and mumbles something.]

Henrik: We can’t hear you, babe!

Stellan: Sosekjøtt. This fucker next to me really likes it when I make sosekjøtt.

[Pincing Stellan’s cheeks, Henrik laughs as his hands are swatted away.]

Question Eight: What’s their favourite physical feature about you?

[Stellan turns red.]

[Henrik laughs, nuzzling Stellan and dodging a poke to his nose.]

Henrik: Aww, no need to be shy about it! You know you like my hands, especially when they’re-

[Stellan gestures at the camera.]

Stellan: Apparently Henrik likes my smile, so I’d say my... mouth?

Henrik: Yeah, they look great when you’re-

[Henrik yelps as Stellan kicks him from under the table.]

Question Nine: What’s their favourite personality trait about you?

Stellan: That’s a lot to choose from, but I think he likes that I’m calm and collected.

Henrik: You’re right! And, uh, I know you like that I’m funny, don’t you?

[Reluctantly, Stellan smiles at Henrik and nods.]

Question Ten: What type of clothing looks best on them?

Henrik: Stellan really, really likes it when I wear suits, even when he steps on my feet and messes up my nice shoes.

Stellan: One look at Henrik’s camera roll will tell you that he goes batshit when he sees me wearing his jackets or scarves.

[Henrik scrolls through his phone, showing the screen to the camera. An album, titled ‘Stell wearing my stuff’, is shown.]

[Stellan grabs Henrik’s phone.]

Stellan: You have an entire six-hundred-and-eighty-eight-photo album of me? Why am I asleep in so many of these?

Henrik: I couldn’t resist, you look so cute!

Stellan: Why do I have on nothing but - delete those!

Question Eleven: What word describes them best first thing in the morning?

Stellan: Bleary. Once, he thought I was having a nightmare, yelled in Danish and ‘reassuringly’ grabbed my face, the dumb shit.

Henrik: Dopey.

Stellan: Excuse me?

Henrik: You’re like a confused kitten!

[Stellan kicks him under the table again.]

Question Twelve: What would they say is their worst physical feature?

Henrik: Stell complains about his left middle finger a lot. It’s crooked from holding a pen all the time, but it just makes it even more dramatic when he flips people off.

Stellan: He doesn’t like how pointy his nose is, which I never get.

Question Thirteen: What’s their best talent?

Stellan: Embroidery.

Henrik: Writing.

Stellan: Henrik’s tapestries are amazing. He works so hard on them and they’re all masterpieces, and-

[He suddenly remembers that he’s being filmed, and looks down, flustered.]

Question Fourteen: What are they terrible at?

Henrik: Huh, that’s a hard question.

Stellan: Oh, I’ve got many answers.

Henrik: Hey!

Stellan: Saying the right things at the right times.

Henrik: Keeping his desk clean.

Stellan: Once, Tino was venting to me about how he lost his favourite book, and Henrik just burst in and was like, “’tis I, the guy who wants to die.”

[Henrik slams his head down on the table.]

Henrik: Yeah... let’s not talk about that.

Question Fifteen: What’s their perfect pizza?

Stellan: We don’t eat pizza.

Henrik: Yeah, Stell would sooner go hungry than order it.

Question Sixteen: What’s their favourite alcoholic beverage?

Henrik: Most of the time Stell gets akvavit, but I know he really likes champagne when we can get it.

Stellan: Beer. If not for the health risks, I’m pretty sure Henrik could drink beer all the time.

Henrik: My favourite’s Gammel Dansk, actually, but you’re not far off!

[Stellan claps the table, his other hand going to cover his mouth.]

Stellan: Fuck!

Question Seventeen: What’s their favourite cuisine?

Stellan: Pretty sure it’s Dutch.

Henrik: Norwegian...?

Stellan: You’re wrong.

[Henrik stares at him.]

Henrik: But it’s all you cook!

Stellan: They’re family recipes, dummy. My favourite’s Japanese.

Henrik: Well, I eat Norwegian almost every night!

[Stellan glares at Henrik and gets up from his chair, walking away.]

Henrik: Wait, come back!

Question Eighteen: What’s their favourite Disney movie?

Henrik: The Little Mermaid.

Stellan: Frozen, even though people think it’s my favourite.

Henrik: I thought you’d like it because of the trolls!

Stellan: You all are delusional if you think trolls are going to give you valid relationship advice.

[Henrik laughs, clapping Stellan on the shoulder.]

Question Nineteen: What’s their most-used curse word?

Stellan: Dammit, fuck it, or anything with an “it”.

Henrik: Shit.

[Stellan looks at Henrik as though enlightened.]

Stellan: Shit, you’re right.

Henrik: HA!

Question Twenty: What adjective describes them in the bedroom?

[Henrik grins perversely and leans over to whisper to Stellan, who glares at him and desperately tries to cool down his reddening face.]

Henrik: Contained. Wild, but the controlled type. Does that make sense?

Stellan: ...dangerous.

[Stellan tries not to fall off his chair.]

Henrik: Aw, yeah, my danger makes stuff really exciting!

Stellan: Shush.

Question Twenty-One: Which one’s funnier?

[Stellan points at Henrik.]

[Henrik points at Stellan.]

[They both stare at each other for a moment before laughing.]

Question Twenty-Two: Who dances better?

Henrik: Stell, hands-down. He teaches ballet at the local studio.

[Stellan shows a video of Henrik dancing to the camera, stifling his laughter.]

Stellan: The only type of dance Henrik can do is awkward dad dancing, solely to embarrass Harald.

Question Twenty-Three: What nicknames do they give you?

Stellan: No.

Henrik: Come on, just tell ‘em!

Stellan: Nei.

[Henrik whispers to him again, and he sighs.]

Stellan: Kanin. It means ‘bunny’, apparently.

Henrik: He’s so old-fashioned! Sometimes when I’m working on my tapestries, I hear Stell go, “darling, can you get me some coffee?” or something like that, and it’s so cute. But again, at night he calls me ‘Mas’-”

Stellan: NO.

Question Twenty-Four: Who uses the Internet more?

Henrik: He shitposts. A lot. For a bestselling author who writes for Disney, you wouldn’t imagine him to be on the Internet a lot posting stuff like “I brewed some leaf juice”.

Stellan: Henrik really only goes online to look for photos or buy stuff.

Question Twenty-Five: If they’re on YouTube, what are they watching?

Stellan: Videos of the songs I wrote lyrics to, or dead memes. I caught him playing the ten-hour loop of “Yee” the other day.

Henrik: He listens to ancient music.

[Stellan crosses his arms indignantly.]

Stellan: They’re from the nineteen hundreds, that’s hardly old. Uncultured pencil.

Henrik: Pencil?

Stellan: Uncultured shit, if that’s what you prefer.

Question Twenty-Six: If they could travel back in time, where would they go?

Henrik: The fifties.

Stellan: The Viking age, clearly.

Question Twenty-Seven: What do they have too much of?

Stellan: Photos, most of them of me.

Henrik: Notebooks.

Stellan: Those notebooks are filled with important drafts!

Henrik: Well, those photos are of important people!

[Henrik sniggers as Stellan blushes for the umpteenth time.]

Question Twenty-Eight: Which of their pickup lines really got you?

Henrik: “You’re amazing.”

Stellan: You still remember that from ten years ago? That’s barely even a pickup line.

Henrik: Of course!

Stellan: “If you need somebody to cuddle with, I’m always down for it!”

[Henrik grins and wraps his arms around Stellan.]

Question Twenty-Nine: What’s their favourite emoji?

[They both take out their phones to type.]

[Stellan shows his first.]

Stellan: ♡. He’s ridiculously sappy.

[Henrik shows the emoji on his screen.]

Henrik: Stell doesn’t use emojis, but the emoticon he sends the most is (._.).

Question Thirty: Draw your partner.

[Henrik draws a simple sketch, displaying it proudly.]

[Stellan draws a stick figure.]

Henrik: Holy crap!

Stellan: I’m good at writing, not drawing. Now shut up.

...

Henrik: So, that’s the end of the challenge, and I hope you liked it!

Stellan: I certainly didn’t.

Henrik: Bye!

Stellan: Thank goodness it’s over.

#aph dennor #APH Denmark #APH Norway #aph fanfiction #my writing

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jimlingss · 7 years ago

Text

Love So Shallow [2]

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 (Finale) Words: 9.2k Genre: Fluff & Humour, Best Friend to Lover!Au, College!Au (sort of) Summary: There’s no doubt about it. You’ve always been thirsty. And *ahem, not just for water. Everyone and their mothers knows it and so does your best friend Taehyung. Though, rather than desperate, he’d like to say that you’re naturally bold. Sometimes, he wishes he could be that way too. Warnings: Themes of low self-esteem, hints of fat-shaming and swearing.

Cr.

“I don’t mean to be rude but can you like...stay away from him?”

Your breath hitches and you raise an eyebrow. “What?”

Krystal rolls her eyes as if it’s obvious and you’re merely playing dumb. “You’re nice, Y/N. But I’m the one going out with Taehyung. It already makes me uncomfortable that you’re living together. He likes me, not you. So, can you back off, please?”

Oh my god.

You can’t believe this is happening. The ridiculousness of the situation makes you want to fall on the floor in hysterics. It’s entirely absurd. But you can guess what it feels like from Krystal’s point of view. She doesn’t know the true relationship between you and Taehyung. Of course, Taehyung isn’t a piece of meat that can be possessed or owned. But from an outsider, it may look like you’re trying to snake your way in in an attempt to steal him like some kind of fox.

“I can assure you that me and Taehyung are only friends.” Even if the girl in front of you has the bitchiest expression, she’s still radiating and beautiful. “Look at me. Now look at you.”

She follows your erratic gesture as you run your hands over your body. “Like really look. Do you really think Taehyung would go for someone like me?”

The sorority sister flickers her orbs up and down your frame once more. After a second, she seems to believe you. “Listen,” you coax gently, “Taehyung’s seen me fart and have diarrhea. I’ve literally hawked a loogie in his face before. We’re practically bros or actual siblings. There’s nothing for you to worry about.”

It’s still absurd. The sheer thought of being something more with Taehyung makes you want to barf out your lasagna cheesy lunch. Krystal smirks at your disheveled appearance, hair that you haven’t washed in a couple of days from being lazy, the stained and ancient flannel you bought at some second-hand thrift store; in your defense, you’re not trying to impress anyone and the recent exams have literally been hell and back. She should cut you some slack.

Nonetheless, the girl seems to be satisfied with your answer.

“That chick is so shady.” Somi points out past a mouthful of chips, “like I feel like she was getting all chummy with you because you’re close to Taehyung.”

“I don’t mind.” You shrug in complete frankness. It doesn’t matter what happens to you. As long as your best friend is happy, you’ll root for him all the way.

Somi has none of it, her eyes still narrowed condescendingly as she swallows half of her red wine. “That chick has some self-esteem issues. She tries to manage her boy-toy like he’s some kind of object and doesn’t even let him have his own friends. It’s red flags galore.” Your friend rolls her eyes and continues on her tangent, “I don’t get why girls have to be pinned against each other and backstab for boys or ‘love’.” Somi makes finger quotations in the air. “It’s the worst. It’s so...eighteenth century. Ugh, I don’t like her. Bad vibes.”

Taehyung pokes his head into your bedroom. “Will you guys stop talking about her like that? And don’t call me a boy toy!”

Somi puts her hand on her chest, a fake dramatic inhale. “Don’t tell me you’re in love with her.”

“I’m not.” He retorts, leaning on the doorframe. “It’s………..complicated.”

“Are you guys even officially girlfriend-boyfriend status or what?”

“Not really.” Tae grimaces and shakes his head. His voice is filled with doubt. “I don’t know. We’ve only gone out on a couple dates together and she introduced me to her friends.”

The girl who’s drinking and eating on your bed smirks. “She’s using you.”

Taehyung ignores her, “and we’ve banged it out several times.”

Your fingers stop filing through the racks of your clothing. You pull yourself from out of your closet to scowl at the man standing idly in deep thought. “I’m jealous.”

The two of them, being your high school friends for nearly half-a-decade now are all too aware of your constant envy. They don’t pay any mind to your sulking expression. “Well, spill the beans.” Somi motions with her wine glass. “How’s the girl in bed?”

“She’s decent.” He mutters before abruptly changing his mind with one single comment, “loud.”

“Like good loud or bad loud?”

“Like banshee screeching.”

Somi whispers something like ‘shame’ and you look up from digging in your makeup bag. “Yeah. She’s really loud.” A shudder grabs hold of your spine as an onslaught of memories storm into your brain - ones where you’re crying in delirium, stuffing pillows over your ears at seven a.m. “I slept with earplugs but I still heard. She’s like an alarm clock, so, it’s not that bad.”

Taehyung sighs, “sorry about that.”

“It’s fine. Maybe you’re that good.” You wiggle your eyebrows and on any other day, he would indulge at how you’re boosting his ego but Taehyung seems genuinely distressed.

“I wish. She’s just very vocal. It’s not a terrible thing but-”

“I know.” Somi shares his sentiment. “Oh. Maybe you should play the silent game with her.” The both of you stare at your friend and she pinches the bridge of her nose. “Of course you innocent lambs wouldn’t know. The rule is simple. First one to make a sound loses. It’s hot, fun and a good way to save your eardrums. You could do that or record one of your ‘sessions’, let her watch after and the girl will realize that she’s not acting in a porn movie.”

You look away from your shoe display. “You sound very experienced.”

Your friend smirks. “You wouldn’t know…”

At the front of your room, Taehyung moans out and cries, whining in a high pitched voice as he stomps his feet. “Can we please stop discussing my love life?”

“Fine.” You tug out two dresses, holding them by their hangers. One is a soft pink and cute floral, made of chiffon fabric that flows to your knees. The other is a royal blue, more of a bodycon style that hugs all your curves. “Which one is better?”

Somi sips her wine and thinks. “Blue.”

“Are you seriously going out on that date?” Taehyung raises his brows, “you met him online, right? What if you get kidnapped or something?”

Your eyes glisten as you swivel around to him. “You would actually care about me? I’m honoured! I knew-”

“No.” He says shortly, “a funeral would be too expensive for us.”

You scoff, no longer paying attention to your two high school friends, teasing each other back and forth and making an absolute mess in your room. Somi continues to drink and munch on her snacks, immersed with reality tv on her laptop. Taehyung finds his spot next to her, on top of your bed, fiddling with his phone and scrolling through funny memes. He laughs once in a while, showing Somi as well before she says with a straight face that it isn’t funny.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay in?” She cries out as you try to perfect your eyeliner but obviously failing with a shaking hand. “We have a spot right here in the middle for you. It’s so comfortable and warm, Y/N. Don’t you want to be with your two bestest friends?”

“And risk losing the chance to meet my future husband?”

You slide into the room with a lipstick tube in one hand. “I don’t think so.”

Taehyung snorts, “you haven’t even met the guy.”

“Exactly.” You point out, “he could be my soulmate. Who knows.”

“When will you come back?”

“Don’t know. Maybe I'll get lucky tonight.”

Somi lets out a short laugh. “At least give us a call so we know you're not dead.”

You scorn the way the pair of them mock your desperate attempts but you comply. “I will.”

It's been a century since you've looked this good. Your mother would be proud of the woman you see in the mirror, a striking contrast to the monkey of a daughter she's regarded you as. Your hair is combed through and neat, dressed in prim and proper clothes, heels to match the ensemble. You feel good about yourself for once and even more so eager to meet this person.

You've met him online after scouting the depths of dating sites for a full two weeks. His name is Sejin and he appears relatively cuddly from his profile picture. You've chatted on and off with him, learning that he's a manager at a high-end store and that he would love to take you on a date.

You're not entirely idiotic to choose a private location; hence, you're now sitting at a coffee shop, nervously twiddling your thumbs while looking out the glass windows every so often.

Will he like you? What if you look too different from your pictures? What if this is the first meeting of a hundred? What if this is the beginning to your life of happiness?

What is the person who walks through that door will be your future husband?

You're jittery and excited, the evening rapidly transforming into the night.

You wait. And you wait. You wait some more. Waiting...waiting...waiting…

“Um, excuse me.” There’s a light voice and they tap your shoulder. You nearly bang your head on the table before jolting upwards, shaking away the sleepiness. “I’m so sorry but we’re closing now.” The barista holding the broom wears a pitiful and sad expression. You frown.

“What time is it?”

“It’s almost midnight.” She enunciates carefully, “are you okay?”

You’ve been waiting for five hours. He never showed up. A murmur leaves your mouth, something you can’t even process that makes the barista nod.

You limp out of the store. You’re not fine at all.

“Is everything alright?” Taehyung’s sleepy voice comes onto the other line and you shiver as the brisk air nips at your exposed skin. You’re cold. You’re hungry. You’re alone.

“Somi’s already left hours ago. So, did you get lucky or not? Was he handsome or did he turn out to be a complete weirdo? Do I need to rescue you again?” He sighs in exasperation but when there’s no answer, Taehyung’s voice rises in concern. “Y/N?! Hello?! Y/N?!”

“I got catfished by the boogie man!”

You cry and cry. Tears roll down your face off your chin, dripping on the cement. A miserable rain cloud falls upon you and as if to mock your situation further, it begins to rain. Your shivers turn to violent quivering. You’re drenched from head to toe, letting the sobs wreck through your body. It might be childish to be weeping so sorrowfully for a man you didn’t even meet but it’s more than that in ways you can’t explain.

For the hundredth time out of a thousand, you’ve been let down again.

You’re not aware of how much time passes but when you no longer feel the cold drops pummeling against your skull, you lift your head. A blue umbrella shields you away, casting a cooling shade on the man in front of you who adorns a worried glower. He drapes a trench coat over your shoulder, warming your skin. “T-Taehyung…”

“You’re hopeless, you know that?” Despite his words, he’s whispering them gently as if cooing a toddler. Your best friend stands beside you. Slowly but with confidence, he wraps his secure hand to your shoulder and begins to guide you to his car.

“You dodged a bullet.” He tells you on the way back, cranking up the heating system to maximum. “He could’ve been a real creep and it could’ve been so much worse.”

You don’t say anything.

Taehyung cooks you ramen and shoves it into your hands after you’ve changed into your pajamas. He turns on a show on the dingy television and curls up with you on the disgusting couch without complaint. The two of you fall asleep in the same positions.

“You don’t look too great.” Namjoon makes an offhand comment and when you don’t respond, he finally gets a good look at you. “Uh...I mean you look-..uh…” The engineering student doesn’t know you too well but he’s aware from meeting you a few times that there’s something amiss.

The quirky and peculiar you is gloomy, drowning in a sweater that belongs to Taehyung. “Do you know where he is?” You push your textbook and notes aside to put your head on the table, not feeling up to studying. The person across from you continues with his hands on the calculator, pushing up his spectacles every so often.

“I think Taehyung’s with Krystal.” He already knows who you’re indicating and he doesn’t push the previous subject. “They’re going through a rough patch lately.”

You raise your brow, “they are?”

“Hmm.” Namjoon hums and scribbles down an answer to the mathematics question in his notebook. “He told me things weren’t looking too hot with her. I don’t know.” He stops for a mere moment, curious as to why you didn’t know. It’s strange considering you’re closer to Taehyung than he is.

“Oh.”

You’ve been too preoccupied with your own problems, too immersed in yourself to allow Tae a chance to speak about his own issues. It makes you feel like a bad friend and the miserable feeling inside your chest deepens.

“Hey, I know it’s none of my business.” Namjoon pipes up and you lift your head. “But I’ve heard some things…-”

You frown. “Heard what?”

“I know it’s not true!” He exclaims immediately, gaining a sharp look from the students studying around him. Namjoon leans in closer and you lurch over the table to listen. “Someone around has been saying that you’re really bad…” The boy with riled up blonde strands hesitates and your hand makes a motion for him to continue. “...in bed.”

“What?!”

The librarian shushes you but you pay no mind. Namjoon winces. Your jaw has dropped.

How ludicrous! As if you haven’t heard such absurd things recently. Were you not pathetic enough that someone out there had to go after you and sabotage your life?!

“You’re a scheming bitch, you know that?!” Krystal’s stopped you in the middle of the sidewalk and somehow you find yourself in a compromised position. Despite her high heels and tiny dress, she’s grabbed onto the collar of your hoodie, the same one you stole from your best friend.

You shove her off of you, smoothing out the creases she’s created. “What the fuck?”

“You slept with my boyfriend, whore!”

What the-

“I did not. Where the hell did you even hear that from?!” You despise the way people are staring and simply because the girl in front of you is prettier, you’re being looked upon as the villain and she is the victim. In reality, the sorority sister is an absolute psycho.

“I don’t know!” She screeches in hysterics, “someone...at the fraternity! They saw you both at a party and you went into the bedroom together and didn’t come out until hours later!”

“I didn’t even go to any party!” You lay your hand on your forehead, having enough of everything. You have more dignity than to stand here and let her shout groundless accusations at you. If Krystal didn’t appreciate you being kind and civilized than you could be the complete opposite.

“You’re a pest.” She gives you a dirty look, “no one even wants you. Can’t you get a boyfriend yourself instead of trying to steal other people’s?”

Something snaps.

A muscle in your cheek twitches. “Taehyung is your boyfriend and he’s my friend.” You take one stride up to her, looming over her form. “I have no intentions of ‘taking him away from you’. Do you lack so much confidence that you don’t think you can keep your own boyfriend?”

“And news flash, Taehyung isn’t someone to be owned.”

You brush past her harshly, shoving her shoulder. Krystal whimpers out a cry but you ignore the sorority girl, leaving her in the dust.

Your legs are trembling as you make the trek across campus, though you never falter once. The destination has been set and the determination causes you to continue onwards. “Y/N?”

Taehyung calls after you. He was making his way home back to your apartment but caught you shoving past a crowd. The boy hastily catches up with you and you still don’t speak a single word to him. His brows furrow, worried at your unusual tense expression. “Y/N, what’s going on?”

“Shut up.”

It’s two more blocks before you’ve made it on the familiar sorority and fraternity street. Taehyung gapes as you march up to a particular house and he even tries to pull you back for an explanation but is too late when you barge in, the door irresponsibly left unlocked.

A bunch of the frat boys are preparing for a party in the evening and you don’t hesitate to swipe a brand new bottle of vodka off the table. One of them turn around from the abrupt sound and they frown at the two of you, “what are you doing here-”

You recognize Jeon Jungkook - the person who had not only rejected but humiliated you all those months ago. It was a hazy memory when you woke up with a hangover but as time went by, you began to recall how he brought you into the bedroom, watched you strip and then whispered how fucking annoying you were.

You’ve never realized it before but it’s oddly strange how Taehyung left the fraternity the day after that particular incident.

The liquid flies into the air as you splash the douchebag.

He turns around in utter shock, backside drenched and the entire room is quiet, appalled at what you’ve done. Taehyung’s eyes have doubled. A pin could be heard in the deafening silence.

“I don’t know what your problem is Jeon Jungkook, but can you not make childish rumours about me like we’re still in high school? It’s time to grow up.”

His fellow brothers turn to stare at him. Jungkook opens his mouth and then closes it.

“Don’t you dare judge my goods when you haven’t even had a taste of them yet.”

Hoseok is the first to make a sound, a snort of laughter that comes through his nose. His eyes are boring into the younger who is humiliated, having raved about bedding you a few days earlier, complaining that you were horrific and that you frequently slept around with others.

Taehyung’s mind is delayed. He’s known you for nearly half-a-decade; you’re chirpy and whimsical. It takes a lot for you to lose it and become hostile. He wonders what exactly happened but he doesn’t get a chance before you’ve wrapped your hand around his wrist, dragging him out of the house.

“Don’t ask.”

“O-Okay.” He walks back to the apartment with you in silence but Taehyung can’t help letting his eyes steal glimpses of your face. If it were Krystal, she would cry and make him do something about it. But you took control of your own problems - albeit becoming insane for a second and he’s not sure if you really did solve anything.

Still, Taehyung’s never admired you more than this juncture of time. “You’re cool.”

You glance at him with a frown. “Uh, thanks?”

“You should’ve told me though.” He throws punches to the air in front of him. “We could’ve replicated a martial fighting scene. I would’ve bursted through the door with a kick and helped you fight them. We’d join fight club!”

For the first time in a while, you laugh again.

If you thought you were angry, you're wrong. Somi is seething.

“What the actual fuck?!” She cannot believe her ears. “Tell me that it isn’t true. Are you fucking with me, Y/N?”

“I wish I was.”

“Oh my god.” Your friend rubs her temples and she feels her heart rate on her wrist. “I think I might get high blood pressure and die. Did you punch that dick in the dick?”

You stifle back a giggle. “I doused him with an entire bottle of vodka. I don't know but I think I embarrassed him in front of his entire fraternity.”

“Good.” She sighs out and then grimaces with a hum. “I don't know if this is true but I heard Taehyung punched him before.”

“What?”

You and Somi both hold in a laugh and at the same time, you two burst out while shaking your heads. “There's no way. Where did you even hear that from? Rumours keep getting worse and worse, you'd think we're back in middle or high school.”

“I don't know, man. I just heard that's why he got thrown out of the place.”

“Nah.” You take her offering of wine, sipping from the glass as Somi gulps down a mouthful straight from the bottle. “Even if he did, he'd tell us. There's no reason he would hide it.”

“Yup.” She pours out the red liquid and she clacks the glass together with you. “Cheers to a horrible life.”

“Cheers.” You giggle and while Somi downs half of it, you retract on your words. “You know, you shouldn't tell Taehyung what I told you...about the whole Krystal thing.”

“Why not?” She frowns, “the chick is obviously psycho. I'd be nuts if I let him stay with her. She literally harassed you, threatened you and she's got some possession issues. Why can't girls be each other’s friends?! I'm so sick of the whole competition thing. Like women should be empowering each other, not ganging up and becoming enemies. We need to stick together! Have I said that before?! Ugh, it makes me so mad!”

“Yes, yes.” You appease your old high school friend that's nagging your ear off. She has a lot of truth to her words but- “We have no business or place in Taehyung’s relationships. If he likes her, then he likes her. We should be there to support him. We shouldn't butt in and it's not like he would listen to us anyways.”

“Wow, since have you turned into Mother Teresa?”

You're silent for a second. “I've been having rough times recently.”

Somi sympathizes with your feelings and she muses her thoughts aloud, “I think Taehyung would listen to you.”

“You think so?” You eye her while taking a sip of the liquid that slightly burns pleasantly down your throat.

“Yeah, he listens to you.” Somi takes the rest of the wine in her glass and then she suddenly throws her arm around your shoulder. “You know, I'm sad for you, Y/N.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Let me introduce you to someone.”

At those particular syllables, you jolt straight up. Goosebumps rise along your skin, you swallow down the saliva watering in your mouth and your eyes have grown wide. “Really?!”

You grab your friend’s hands within yours and your orbs are glimmering with newfound hope. “You would really do that for me?!”

“Sure.” Somi grins at the life force that's been brought back into your soul. She remembers the only present you've ever wanted for your birthday or Christmas was a date; you'd never fail to remind everyone around you when those holidays roll around the corner. “I met this cute guy who's a friend of Suran. He's a total sweetheart - the two of you would be good together.”

A humongous smile has spread into your cheeks. At the mere thought of this stranger that you've never met, seen or even know the name of, your heart is fluttering. If your friend thinks he’s good and suitable for you, then the chances are much higher as well. You don't have to worry that it's some scammer on the internet or someone who will catfish you.

You never heard back from Sejin after being left abandoned at the spot you were supposed to meet but the memories fade away with the prospect of someone new.

“Which one is better?” You hold up three different sets of lingerie, one which is more sheer and revealing, one that's frilly with lace and the others range in between. “Red for sexiness or black for a sleek look? This pink one is pretty cute though. What would a guy like?”

Taehyung is staring at you with an unimpressed expression. You look off at them, judging with a long hum. “Isn't this your first date?”

“Yes. But who knows what might happen.” You turn around with a wink thrown in your friend’s direction, choosing the black set since it could never go wrong. Tae rolls his eyes and pretends to gag. “If I get the chance, I'll nab it.”

“Don't make your expectations too high,” he mutters, “we know what happened last time.”

“Don't be mean!”

“I just don't want to have to pick up your sobbing ass.” Taehyung’s tongue is ruthless and sharper than intended. He just doesn't like to see you cry and doesn't want his friend to be heartbroken yet again.

“Don't worry.” You pop your head out the bathroom, “even if it goes horribly, I'll make sure I won't call you. Thanks for the support.”

He exhales in exasperation. “That's not what I mean!”

The door slams shut. Taehyung knows you're not truly angry at him. It's not like you to hold grudges about petty and mindless comments anyways. Hence, he rolls onto his stomach, the stench of the couch unnoticeable from his nose blindness and he scrolls through his phone.

Half-an-hour later, there's a ring at the door and he jumps up to open it. “Hey.”

Someone with ebony hair, chubby cheeks and an adorable face is on the other side. The shorter boy is dressed in a fluffy, cream-coloured turtleneck and black pants ripped at the knees. His eyes are crinkled, adorning a soft smile. “H-hi...umm...I'm looking for a Y/N. Is she in right now?”

“Yeah.” Taehyung’s brain is boggling. “She's in the bathroom.”

The guy in front of him is perfect for you.

“O-oh, I haven't introduced myself yet. I'm sorry. I'm Jimin. Park Jimin.”

“I'm Taehyung.” They shake hands. “I'm her roommate and old high school friend.” There's an awkward silence where Jimin scratches the back of his neck out of nervousness and Taehyung studies him. “Do I know you from somewhere?”

“I don't think so-...oh! We shared that 331 Calculus course together!”

“Right!” Taehyung points at him, his mouth dropping open. Then, they high-five each other. “That class was absolutely hell! I almost died. How did you do on the finals?”

“Well-”

Your shouting voice from the bathroom interrupts their conversation. “Don’t open the door yet, Tae! I’ve got a bad case of fucking diarrhea! Great.” Taehyung bolts his head over to Jimin who’s now standing inside the entryway and he shouts back ‘uh-huh, okay’.

“Oops.” Taehyung grins and Jimin sheepishly smiles. “You’re a computer science major?”

“Yup. And you’re an engineering student? What type?”

“I’m thinking civil but I’m not sure yet.”

The both of them take their seats on the couch, discussing things from class materials to the horrible professors they’ve encountered. They laugh, joke around and jab at each other like they’ve known the other for decades. Taehyung muses that he’s found a good friend.

They ultimately forget about you.

“Tae. I think I got my period- Oh my god! Jimin! You’re here?!” You stutter out nervously and they look at you in surprise, having completely forgotten about the date. He waves with a polite ‘hello’ and you blush. “Wait here. Uh...hold on a second.”

You frantically disappear to check on your makeup and any smudges. Meanwhile, your best friend sighs exhaustingly. “She’s a bit....strange. But the kid is pretty fun when you get to know her.”

Jimin nods and he continues on his ramble with a grin. “Pro tip, if you have any awkward silences, ask her about her rock collection at home and she’ll go on for hours. She knows a bit about horoscopes too since she’s tried to match herself and find special ‘romance’ dates. You’re a good guy,” Taehyung broods, “no pressure but take good care of her, alright? It’s a mess when she comes home crying”

Jimin stares at him for a lengthy moment. “You must know her well.”

“Since high school.” Taehyung shrugs, “she came up to me, put her foot on my desk and proposed that we’d be friends. Never looked back since.”

He laughs until you come back. Like a father figure, Taehyung in a humorous tone, demands for you to come home before it gets too dark out. The man even goes as far as to humiliate you, standing out on the hallway with crossed arms and a stern expression. When you leave the building, you can see him grinning from the windows upstairs. “What a nerd.”

The date goes well. Spectacular. Mind Blowing. The best you’ve ever been on.

First, the kind boy takes you out to the movies. You two pick the same one simultaneously, finding that you have similar tastes. It’s a lighthearted film, one that makes you feel warm by the end. Afterwards, you bring him to a restaurant and you bond over old stories. You tell him about Somi and Taehyung, your times in school and old substitutes that were absolutely insane, how Somi had come out of the closet but you and Tae already knew. Jimin recalls how he met Suran and the pair of you draw back to Somi and Suran’s love story, how they got together but from different perspectives. He even asks you about your hobbies, the rock collection you started as a kid and astrology that you’ve been dipping your toes into lately.

It’s crazy how well you connect together.

There's not a single wink of time where you feel uncomfortable. You're nearly led to believe that you've discovered your soulmate, all thanks to a certain Somi.

At the end of the date, Jimin holds your hand. It's the first time you've ever done it.

You're so entirely joyous and ecstatic as his palm grazes yours before his fingers interlocks with your fingers. Your heart could leap out of your chest, especially with the shy smile he gives you. Heaven’s angels are singing. Your eyes are flashing hearts. The world is shining brighter. You wonder how the sun is up when it's nighttime and the moon is hanging in the sky - but then you realize it's just Park Jimin illuminating sunlight beams at you.

You can finally die happy.

“Well…”

“Yup…”

He lingers outside the door, both not knowing what to say. Jimin clears his threat, stealing a glimpse of you and you swallow hard. You shut your eyes, puckering your lips for a first kiss….your first kiss. A few anxious seconds pass.

You wait….waiting...wait…

And then you open your eyes. He's gone down the hall. You sigh in disappointment. Jimin turns around when he feels your gaze and he smiles. “Good night. I'll call you.” He waves and you mimic the motion with a sheepish exhale.

“Someone had a good night….” Taehyung scratches his bed hair, having woken up from a nice nap. He notices how you're not even listening, floating on cloud nine, singing a Disney tune with a huge smile. “You’re kind of creepy, right now. Did it go well?”

“It went fantastic!” You spin on your heels, embracing your lovely life. You want to call your parents and thank them for giving birth to you. “I think he's the one. I want to marry him, Tae.”

“Woah, that's a bit too soon to send out wedding invitations, dude.” He imitates your wide smile. “Glad you had fun though.” Taehyung latches onto your dancing form and he rubs your hair. “Finally! I don’t have to deal with your lame ass alone.”

“Puh-lease.” You roll your eyes, unable to take the jab seriously when your head is still in the clouds.

You stay up for another four hours, too anxious to sleep, constantly checking your phone. You kick your blanket, giggle into your pillow, bounce on top of your covers - until Taehyung slams his fist on the thin wall and tells you to go to bed already.

When you wake up early that morning, your mobile device screen is glued to your cheek but you peel it off with bleary eyes that are barely opening, checking once more for a text message or a missed call. There’s nothing...which is okay!

Jimin’s probably just giving it some time before he says something. Somi told you that it wasn’t good to be clingy and that budding relationships were weird...apparently you couldn’t text them right away? She doesn’t really understand it either but it’s fine.

Everything’s totally fine.

It’s not fine. Nope.

Two more days pass and when you finally shoot him a text - [Y/N] Hey Jimin! I had a really fun time. Hope to see you again - the message is left read but unanswered.

After agonizing for a whole nother day, Jimin finally calls you and it’s over.

Whatever you had...which was nothing at all...it’s over.

“Hey! Jimin?!” Taehyung stomps up to the boy leaving the dance studio.

Jimin looks over and smiles, waving a quick goodbye to his group of friends as he meets Taehyung halfway in the hall. “What’s up? I haven’t seen you aro-”

“What the hell, man?” Tae lightly shoves him back in complete anger. “You broke up with her?”

There are other people brushing past that stare at the volume of his voice. Jimin grabs onto him. “We should talk about this somewhere else.”

Taehyung’s fully aware that he’s being irrational. It’s not like Jimin was your boyfriend or you’ve been dating for five years. It was one, single date. But he still can’t understand. If it went as well as you were gushing about, what went wrong? You want answers and he needs them as well.

As your friend, he’s always got your back.

“Y/N’s really nice.” Jimin murmurs out in a soft breath, the pair of them sitting outside on a bench together. “The date went well. She’s cute...funny even.”

“What happened then?”

“I couldn’t handle it.” After Taehyung had gone on a rant about watching over you, Jimin felt pressured. “She’s genuine and she’s looking for a future with someone to marry, to spend the rest of her life with. I’m not ready for that. I-...I think she deserves better than me.”

“Oh c’mon.” Tae knocks his head back to look at the sky before he darts his pupils onto the friend in beside him. “That’s a cliche and bulshit excuse - we both know that.”

“It’s not a lie. But if you want me to be more truthful,” Jimin hesitates, “I feel like she needs someone like you.”

It feels like Taehyung has been doused in a bucket of ice water.

This is not what he’s expecting at all. “What?”

“When you were talking about her and when she was talking about you...there was just something-” The computer science major scratches the back of his neck, not sure how to convey it correctly. “Do you guys have a thing for each other? Is there something going on?”

“She’s just a friend.” He explains as if for the millionth time to people around him. Taehyung even lets out a snort of laughter. “There’s nothing going on between me and Y/N. Believe me in that.”

Jimin seems a bit confused. “Why not?”

“I adore Y/N but only as a friend. She’s funny and humorous but…”

It feels wrong to say his thoughts out loud, the inner consciousness that has always echoed in the hollows but never spoken on tongue. He feels like he’s betraying you, that he’s selfish and malicious for saying what he’s about to say but if Taehyung was being completely honest…

“She’s not dating material to me. Y/N’s shallow. She looks at people like they’re a piece of meat. She only cares about exteriors and about herself. She wants to be loved and constantly tries to get into relationships.” From the binoculars you bring around on occasion, scouting out handsome men and beautiful girls, from the dating sites you scour without even looking at their profiles, to asking strangers for their number - it seems like you love the idea of love more than desiring to be in a committed relationship. “Don’t get me wrong. Y/N’s a great friend, my best friend, but I’ve never thought twice about her as something more.”

The two of them sit in silence for the next five minutes. Each understands the other’s choices and when they leave, they have mutual respect for each other, even making verbal plans of hanging out sometime.

Taehyung muses that there’s truly no other better word to describe you as…

Shallow.

The sobbing can be heard from the other side of the front door. As a couple passes him in the trashy hallway, they stare and he sighs helplessly. Taehyung hesitates to put the key through the lock, throwing open the hinges to deal with you for the next few hours. He lingers for at least twenty heartbeats, under the yellow glow of the overhead lights swinging from the ceiling. It’s not that he finds you unbearable but the guilt has begun to eat at his bones. If you knew about what he said to Jimin, the truth that he’s always thought in his mind, you’d forgive him.

But Taehyung would never be able to forgive himself.

“What are you doing?!” The door swings shut behind him.

You’re watching a romance movie on television, sitting on the ground in front of the coffee table. There’s two tubs of ice cream out, one in your lap with the spoon pierced through the top of the melting sweetness. There are empty bottles of liquor rolling near your feet. As you’re weeping, you bring the beer bottle to your lips and he winces, wondering how hurt you are to be drinking something as disgusting as beer. He knows you hate it the most out of the entire alcohol selections in the world.

“They’re so in love!” You shout at the screen in bitter anger. The pair on screen are having some kind of montage - laughing in each other’s arms, running through a field of flowers with held hands. You’re drunk.

“Goddamn it, Y/N.” Your best friend takes off his shoes and places the bottles upright beside you. He looks down at your body sprawled on the ground and when his eyes flicker to the table, he does a double take. “What the hell are these?!”

He holds up the black and white printed pictures of babies. As much as he loves kids, he can tell they’re computer generated and all wonky. “I-I…” You sob without the tears, “they’re baby pictures I put through the internet. It’s what me and Jimin’s kids are supposed to look like together. B-but now, it’s all ruined!”

The word ‘ruined’ is half-screamed, half-cried out and your high school friend wonders if the neighbors will file a noise complaint soon or the landlady will march up to their room and scold his ear off. He’s also appalled and impressed that you went to such lengths.

Taehyung brushes off how creepy it is and he flickers off the television to stop yourself from being tortured to death. He joins you on the floor, gathering his knees across from you, staring and letting you cry out your eyes while your mouth rants.

“I can’t even hate him! He was so nice to me. D-do you know what he said? Jimin said I deserve someone better and he didn’t have the time to treat me the way I deserved. I don’t even think it was bullcrapin’, Tae. He sounded so genuine! He’s so perfect! That’s why I’m mad.”

You hiccup through it all, slurring the syllables, wiping away your eyes. As you bring the bottle to your mouth again, he snatches it away from your grips.

You’re in too much chaos to protest or fight him. “My marriage is over! My future is gone! I swear, I’mma die a kissless virgin!”

Taehyung nods at your hysterics and he curses himself as to let you go unwatched. Drunk Y/N was an emotional Y/N. “Did you even want to marry him?”

“Maybe.” You shrug, not realizing how ridiculous you were being. There’s a lot more silence as you calm down and a croak leaves your parted lips, “am I unlovable?”

“You’re not.”

“Then why doesn’t anyone want to be with me? This happens every single time.” You spit it out with a new fervour, punching the table for emphasis. “I’m so tired of being used, so tired of feeling this way and being on the receiving end of this. But I don’t want to give up! I-I...I don’t want to give up.”

In the darkness of the apartment living room where the glass windows flood in the city nightlights in distorted beams, Taehyung tips his head and gazes at you. Your skin is soaked in the blue luminescences, the moon paling in comparison to the mosaic of reds and yellows, coming from cars’ head beams to airplane navigation flashes. It’s become a lot more peaceful now that the television isn’t blaring and you’ve stopped sobbing.

“Those ‘loves’ that you felt or had, they were fleeting. They’re not real. They’re not true. It was shallow. They were shallow kinds of love.”

He meets your eyes and gently smiles. “Remember Changmin in high school? What, you had a crush on him for like two days? And you swore you were in love with him.” You tearfully giggle at the memory, sniffling in and Taehyung continues, “one day. Maybe it’s not meant for now. But one day you’ll meet someone amazing and become happy.”

You hum. He’s not sure how much you caught when you’re this intoxicated. “Do you believe in fate, Taehyung?”

He contemplates the answer for an extended moment. “I do.”

Taehyung launches him upwards to his feet, standing over you and he reaches out his hand. “Let’s get you ready for bed.” You smile, clasping his hand, ready to be pulled up and away from your sorrows. But your friend miscalculates your weight.

As he leans on his toes and you lean backwards, having planted your butt down for the last two hours, he’s pulled down. “Oh shi-”

In the most ungraceful manner, with teeth and full impact, his lips smack against yours.

He flops down to the floor, head in your lap. No one moves. The brief movement that lasted quicker than a blink registers in your drunken consciousness…

And you scream, throwing him off of you.

Just like that, the peace that was created vanishes. Taehyung groans at how he rolled on the ground and he wipes away the saliva on his mouth before stumbling to the bathroom where you’re washing your lips. “My purity!” You’re crying again, “you soiled it!”

You’re splashing your face furiously with water and on any other occasion, your friend would laugh at you but he feels quite disgusted himself. He turns on the shower and lets the harsh pressure splash against his face. What did he just do. Oh lord. Fucking hell.

“It wasn’t even a kiss!” He screams as he turns off the shower head, wiping his face and he marches to turn off the tap so you can stop wasting water and spike up their bills next month. “It was an accident all right?! It didn’t count! It doesn’t count!”

Taehyung’s not sure if he’s trying to soothe you or convince himself.

You’re crying again. The last wave of drunkenness has hit you full force, the bottles of alcohol sinking into your blood veins. No amount of comforting words could calm you down now.

It’s as if the peck on your lips have caused the ship in your soul to crash full force into the iceberg - titanic style.

You slide down the cabinets of the washroom to the ground once more and Taehyung collapses next to the toilet. He’s exhausted from the entire ordeal. “I don’t understand!”

“What is it now?” He rubs his forehead, ready to get up and leave you be, although he’s too aware that he would never abandon you on the cold floor of the dirty bathroom.

“When my parents got divorced and remarried, they started their own families.” You’re crying more sincerely than before, tears rolling off your cheeks, eyes glistening with water. It’s unrestrained and honest. “I-I had to shuffle between them. I just want to be part of a family.”

“I want to know what it feels like to be part of a family. A-and,” you hiccup, “if I have my own then they can’t leave me the way I was left!”

You wail like your soul’s been taken from your body, like the truest agony has settled into your bone. This time it isn’t for some boy who didn’t want to meet you again. It’s not because you don’t have a lover, a girlfriend or boyfriend, no romance within your life. It isn’t a shallow reason.

Taehyung stares at you without uttering a word. He’s shocked. He didn’t know that you felt this way, not even as your best friend for half-a-decade. It’s your innermost struggle that you’ve never told anyone before. His own heart aches to watch you.

He has always known that you’ve celebrated two holidays every time they rolled around, two birthdays and Christmases. Your parents had broken up before he even knew you. You went away sometimes to where your dad lived, always speaking little about your family. When he asked you a long time ago about it, you shrugged him off.

“I just want to have my own family.” Your head hangs low, “I just want to be part of a family.”

“I-it’s not fair. Am I unlovable?”

Taehyung’s silent.

The clock hits one in the morning and he pokes his foot at you, calling out your name softly. “Y/N?” That’s when he finds that you’re snoring, having fallen asleep after a sobbing fest.

The universe has shifted. His very eyes are playing tricks on him. It’s altered.

It’s not only because you’ve finally opened up the depths of your heart to him. It’s not only because he finally knows the reason for your desperate attempts. It’s not only because his cheeks are flushing and heating up from the matter that occurred mere moments ago.

Not because his lips are still tingling. Taehyung was wrong about you.

He frankly never realized….all you wanted was to be loved-

And that’s the least shallow thing in the world.

The next morning you wake up suffering under a massive hangover, headache pounding and nauseous from your very core. The sunlight high in the sky burns to the back of your lids as the world tilts at forty-five degrees but something’s changed.

You have a new sense of self.

“Get up, Taehyung.” You poke the lump in the covers, having barged into his room without a second thought. He whimpers and whines but you take the back scratcher he bought from the dollarama, using it to poke his body. “Get up! We’re going to the gym, bitch!”

The air is completely still. You hear him take a large inhale...then, Taehyung throws the covers off of himself. “What did you just say?”

It’s not long until you’re holding three-pound dumbbells in each of your hands, flexing your arms every other second. The orange tracksuit that you never used, pushed to the back of your closet is on, zipped all the way up your neck. With the light cereal breakfast in your stomach, you feel ready to go.

Taehyung is riding the stationary bike, unable to fathom why he gave in and decided to join you. He wonders if this is a sign of the apocalypse. You wouldn’t be caught dead in a gym out of your own free will otherwise.

He steals a glance at you, clearing his throat. “Are you sure you don’t remember anything from yesterday?”

“Nope.” Your brain is clear, not even an ounce of hazy memories. It’s as if you blacked out or went into a coma for the entire evening and night. “Did I do something weird?”

You’re not exactly sure what transpired. You simply woke up this morning with a new determination, like you had an epiphany last night, despite not remembering at all.

He’s baffled at you, annoyed to no end that you’ve failed to retain the memories that’s caused him-

“No.” Taehyung looks away, “nothing happened.”

“I’ve failed time and time again.” You mutter, forgetting about the other topic. You continue to bend your arms with the weights while darting your eyes around. “I’ve hit rock bottom. There’s no way but up.”

He scoffs and laughs slightly, “that’s one way to look at it.”

“I’m going to make myself a better person. I’ll become irresistible and desirable.”

The gym is hot. And you don’t mean just temperature wise.

Everywhere you look, there are attractive people in every single corner. You could trip anywhere and someone would catch you. There are women running on the treadmill in only a sports bra, men bench pressing a hundred pounds, someone on the row machine, sliding back and forth vigorously. Someone’s doing chin ups, holding on to the bar, flexing their arm muscles with each movement. A stranger is doing squats, leaving a lot to view and beside them, another is doing forceful push ups.

They’re drenched, sweat slick off their skin. The people’s hair are sticking to their foreheads, toned abs and thighs exposed, broad shoulders to match. They’re out of breath, opening their mouths wide to tip back their heads for water. God. You could live here.

“You’re drooling.”

Your best friend whispers in your ear, snickering and you swallow the mouthful of built up saliva. Your arms have stopped moving long ago, Taehyung taking the dumbbells before you forget and open your palm, letting the heavyweight crush your foot like you’ve done in the past.

“This is a gym, not an adult movie theater.”

“I should ask someone if they need someone to spot for them or if they want someone to hold their legs as they do sit ups.” You nod to yourself, convinced by your own words. Taehyung unfortunately is not as convinced and he holds the collar of your tracksuit before you walk off and harass someone.

“I don’t think so.”

“Tae…” You whine, stamping your feet like a child. He grins and keeps his hold on you like it’s a leash. “Let me go!”

“So you can terrorize others and potentially get thrown out for sexual harassment? The least I can do for this world is make sure that doesn’t happen.” He gives you a fifteen pound kettlebell to entertain yourself with. You complain, arms that shake when you try to lift it.

“Oh my god.” You drop the heavy mass, luckily landing on the mat safely and not on any toes. “I think some guy just winked at me.”

Your best friend facepalms. “It was just a blink.”

“I swear-”

“Stop misunderstanding other people’s intentions.” He grumbles, taking you away and deciding to torture you. If you dragged him out on a Saturday morning to go work out, he was going to make sure that you were going to leave sore.

“I don’t want to do this anymore.” You pout, facing Taehyung upside down as you’re bent over the equipment. “I’m tired! Don’t you have somewhere to be? When was the last time you met with Krystal?”

“Oh, I ended things with her this morning.”

You nearly fall off, bolting up with a tremendous gasp that garners attention from your surroundings. “But she’s so hot! And she liked you so much! What happened?!”

Taehyung has a cryptic expression. He stares at you without a smile. After a minute, he shrugs.

“Things just didn’t end up working out. There’s nothing more to it.”

“Huh.” Once again, guilt bombards you for not knowing what was going on Taehyung’s romantic life when you kept on talking about yours. Strangely, he doesn’t seem sad about it. “I’m sorry…”

“It’s whatever.” He pats the equipment. “Now give me ten reps.”

You comply with fresh energy, appeasing your best friend who’s got his heart broken.

By the time you leave the gym, you vow never to go back. Even if there’s a sea of attractive people, it’s still not worth it.

The trio of you, old high school friends and all, soon meet up again with each other. You go out for lunch, catching up with recent developments that causes Somi to go on tangents like she usually does. After, you join her at an old folks home. With Somi’s nursing degree that she’s working towards, she frequently volunteers at retirement homes. They were having a special event today and you both agreed to help out as well.

“Hey, is there something wrong with Tae?” Somi furrows her brows as she divides the paper plates and you frown with the cups in your hands.

“No, why?’

“He keeps staring at y-....you know what? Nevermind. Forget I said anything.” Your friend suddenly brushes it off with a coy smile and moves on before you can question her.

There’s something about homes for the elderly that has always resonated with you. Aside from the memories of running around with your grandmother in one as you were a child, the folks here are brimming with knowledge. They’re retired, stark hair and wrinkled skin, fatigued but bright eyes displaying the youth they once had. These people have lived their entire lives already, felt love and sadness, holding onto countless stories and lessons.

Most of them are satisfied with the life that they’ve led. When you’re with them, it’s as if you’re reading the last few pages of their book; a bittersweet ending, for accomplishing so much but having to say goodbye so soon.

You sigh sheepishly, sitting on a chair at the sidelines, next to your best friend.

The old but classic music is streaming from the record player. The tiny crowd begins to form as the elderly become nostalgic, reminiscing on these songs that they’ve heard when they were teenagers. You watch as an old couple hold hands to the dance floor. They embrace each other, swaying back and forth the melody. It’s a heartwarming, sweet sight that makes you smile.

You don’t notice Taehyung staring at you.

“I just want to be with someone.” You sigh softly again, unable to think of anything better than growing old together with another and always still being in love with them. “To feel love and to be loved…”

Taehyung smiles, “you’re already loved.”

Your own expression matches his and you turn to him. “So, you love me?”

The man beside you has never been more sincere. “I do.”

“I do too.” You throw your arm over him with a lighthearted giggle. “You’re my best friend after all.”

“O-oh.” Taehyung laughs nervously, cheeks heating up. The foreign feeling in his chest is only manifesting with your close proximity and touch. Such a common gesture has suddenly become far too intimate. “Yeah...sure.”

#sfwbangtan stories #taehyung fanfic #taehyung fluff #taehyung scenario #bts fanfic #bts scenario #WOOO #One more chapter left!!#OC's thirst is so real y'all

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swimyghost · 7 years ago

Text

The Haiamo Chapter

WARNING: THIS IS NOT MY UNIVERSE. Kiyrus Terino and this Homestuck Universe was based on @cay-reborn Homestuck fan-comic ‘288′ which can be found here:https://mspfa.com/?s=23527&p=1

Haiamo, her lusus, castle, and stuff was created by me. Please read “288″ for more details. Again, I THIS IS NOT MY UNIVERSE. Please enjoy!

(Background: Bored in class so I wrote this. Details a bit of Haiamo’s character and what she did before she is introduced in “288″. Please don’t kill me Cay ;( )

Haiamo’s typing style: E is 3, 4 is A, H is )(, and uses lots of slang and swears

*-*-*-*

Deep breath, release, smoke floats to the top. Deep breath, release, smoke floats to the top. A young troll girl, around six Alternian solar sweeps old, sat in her dark castle dungeon/respiteblock, smoking a basic troll blunt. As she smoked, the black haired girl looked at her fuschia and black computer screen. The light bounced off the troll girl’s goggles and hit the black curtains behind her computer.

Smoke and release. Smoke and release. It is a basic blunt, nothing special. The troll isn’t looking for something special, just something to make her relax. Now, the girl is normally a pretty chill bro. Relaxing and laughing and looking up some dank ass memes. But today is different! Today… Is when her guardian, her lusus, returns from their trip.

The girl’s neck fins lowered out both fear and annoyance. She loved her lusus, there was no doubt. However, Sharkmama could be very annoying. Trying to get to get her outside, trying to make her more “presentable”, trying to even get her away… away from her computer.

“ <3 )(ELL to d4 n4w </3!” The troll screamed, slamming her blunt on her expensive mahogany table. The blunt sizzled and burned out.

“<3 4w d4mn <3.” The girl mumbled to yourself.

She crossed the blunt and its dusty carcass on the ground. The troll… Wait… Does this troll even have a name? If we just keep calling her ‘the troll’ it would be boring and mysterious. And Haiamo is not mysterious!

The troll’s name is Haiamo Sorcere and she is the heiress to the Alternia throne and a fuschia blood. But Haiamo could care less. She is a very… Weird… Troll. She enjoys watching terrible harem anime and loves to smoke and do Alternian drugs. But her biggest passion is the mystic arts and memes, which totally go hand-and-hand. Memes, in Haiamo’s eyes, is the funniest shit ever and can make even the most humorless trolls laugh. And the magic and mystical arts? Well, after finding her weapon, she can hear the call of magic. Secretly, Haiamo looks up spells and enchantments so she can use them. However, they barely work… Like ever.

What shall this young troll do?

Well, she was trying to push all her garbage under her bed. Faygo bottles, used blunts, smelly clothes, and her baggies of drugs. Haiamo could let her lusus see this or else Sharkmama will go into rage mood.

“<3 4lright, )(ow much tim3 do I h4v3 l3ft b3for3 Sh4rkm4m4 g3ts h3r3?”

Haiamo speed-weeded over to her giant computer. The computer was a gift from the Empress of Alternia herself. Haiamo doesn’t know how to feel about the Empress. Don’t get her wrong, Haiamo loves everyone. But the Empress sends her presents a random. Sometimes it’s fancy dresses and other times its expensive tech equipment. Haiamo usually gives it to Troll!Goodwill because dresses are itchy and make her look fat and she didn’t care for technology. It's all about magic, baby.

She looked at the time. Three minutes until her lusus arrived.

“<3 4w )(3ll <3.” Haiamo groaned, baring her fanged teeth.

The young troll decided to, for once, clean up her lovely (disgusting) room. The room is very large and very important because she is a very large and important person herself. Her dirty, sweaty, and Alternian weed smelling clothes litter the ground and has seemingly created a second carpet, this time fuschia instead of black. The walls are fuschia with thick lines running from the top and bottom. Faygo stains are splashed against those walls and smell just as lovely (disgusting) as you’d imagine. Haiamo’s computer and the desk were pushed into the far left side of the room, far away from the exit, which is on the far right. Her bed is also covered in Alternian drugs, sweaters, pants, and Faygo bottles. The bed itself is in a fuschia heart shape and has a black frame with a silk-like canopy above it.

Haiamo looked back at the wall her desk is pushed up against. A giant black curtain covers the entire top part of the wall and can only be opened back either one of the golden ropes that dangle on each side of the curtain. Haiamo nervously watched the curtains, watching for any sign of movement.

“<3 Nothing y3t. )(3… Th4ts 4… R3r33f… )(4)(4)(4! G3T IT? R3r33F? R3LI3F? <3”

Clutching her knees, the young heiress gasped for breath for more then usual.

Suddenly, something massive against her wall, making the thick curtains shake. Haiamo leaped back and went to grab her toke bag that, conveniently, laid on the ebony bedside table sat stood near her bed (obviously).

The slammings continued until Haiamo raced over to her desk and pulled the golden rope nearby. The curtains pulled back to reveal a ginormous shark. The shark had to be the biggest in the ocean. It was white with a light gray underbelly. It bared it’s sharp fangs and opened it’s mouth, revealing twelve rows of them. Half of its right fin was missing completely and scars lined the remaining parts of it. The eyes of the shark were white with a faded pink color around the edges. Dark fuschia veins surrounded the area around the eyes.

Fun fact, this shark was Haiamo’s great and powerful lusus.

“<3 4y333333! S)(4rkm4m4! W4s poppin’ <3!” Haiamo waved at her lusus and smiled.

“SCREEEE!”

“<3 W4? W)(4chu t4lkin ‘bout?”

“RAAAAAAAAAA!”

“<3 Go outsi3? )(3LL N4W </3!”

“RRRRRAAAA!”

“<3 M4m444444 </3.” Haiamo whined.

“RAWR!”

“<3 Ugh… Fin3! </3”

Haiamo picked up her FETCH MODUS, her toke bag. The bag was a terrible modus, but it kept all her drugs and memes so she was happy. At the top of her modus was her favorite necklace ever. A necklace of Troll!Pepe The Frog. His gray frog skin and his horns.. So beautiful. And his smug grin made Haiamo smile with glee. She slipped the necklace around her neck and watched its gold chain sparkle in the meme-light.

The troll girl opened the silver shark-lusus sized door and walked down the fuschia and black hallway. Lights shared space with the poster of her favorite anime, Rosario + Vampire and School Days. Haiamo glanced lovingly at the School Days poster. Haiamo has been loved School Days since her moirail gave her a copy of it for her Wriggling Day. She never understood why so many people hated Makoto Itou. He just wanted to get the bitches.

As she continued down the hallway, Haiamo tried to ignore the piles of gold, silver, bronze, and jewels. It was a thing of her past she tried to forget. Haiamo entered the entrance to her castle to see Sharkmama swimming in circles.

The entrance was huge. The floors were made from pink quartz and a large quartz and pink diamond staircase. Piles of gold and jewels touched the heavily detailed ceiling depicting lowblood rebellions and highblood rule. A massive diamond chandelier dangling from the ceiling, glimmering and shining like a beacon. The door to the castle was ebony and curved with ancient quotes from elder highbloods. The floor was white quartz and had black and fuchsia swirl-patterns. Sharkmama glanced up at Haiamo and let out a low growl. At full speed, Sharkmama swam up to Haiamo and roared in her face. The power of the roar made Haiamo slide back. Her hair tie that kept her long and knotted hair in a ponytail snapped and unleashed its wildness. Haiamo’s baggy fuschia sweater with her black ‘Pilo’ sign waved wildly back and forth. Her sweatpants nearly ripped from the force.

Sharkmama stopped and grumbled in pain, looking at her fin stub gingerly. Haiamo casually fixed her rainbow lensed goggles.

“<3 U don3? ‘C4us3 I w4nn4 go b4ck to my crib, ight? <3.” Haiamo said, running her fingers through her hair. After she was done, Haiamo pulled out a waterproof lighter and waterproof blunt and started smoking.

“GRAAAAAA!”

“<3 Iz just 4 blunt, no n33d to scr33 4t m3)(, ight <3.” Haiamo hissed.

“Grrrrr…”

“<3 M4444, it 4in’t gonn4 kill m3h.”

Sharkmama swam over and hit the blunt out of Haiamo’s hands and growled in her face. Haiamo growled back, baring her sharp teeth. The blunt slowly fizzled out and died on the ground. Haiamo slammed her foot on it and twisted her foot a few times. “<3 4lright, I’ll stop, f4 now. Just t3ll m3 w4 I gott4 do ‘for3 I st4rt r3kting yo <3.”

Sharkmama let out a tiny rawr, which Haiamo translated as Feed me now or I’ll eat you.

“<3 M4, get yo juss f33d yo-self <3?” Haiamo whined, dug her hands into her hair.

Sharkmama ran her good fin through Haiamo’s hair, letting out a small grunt. Haiamo sighed and let out a small smile.

“<3 Ight, I’ll go out 4n’ g3t you som3fin’... Juss, w4it h3r3, ight <3?” Haiamo mumbled.

Sharkmama let out a soft roar and pulled Haiamo back as she tried to go outside. With her good fin, Sharkmama started to brush Haiamo’s hair. While this pleased the lusus, the troll, however, was not.

“<3 M4...<3”

…

“<3 M4…<3”

…

“<3 M4 <3!”

“RAAAA!”

Haiamo, with hair now all straight and neat, raced away from her lusus and opened the ebony door and closed it just as a wave of water slammed into her.

Not like it bothered the seadweller. Instead, she pushed off the door and swam away from the dark fuschia and black castle. Her hair waved wildly in the dark ocean, moving like a flag caught in a wild breeze. Haiamo clutched her toke bag tightly, making sure the contents of the bag don’t fall out as she swam through the water at breakneck speeds. Her fins flattened against the sides of her neck as she slowly raised the speed. She screeched to a halt as Haiamo sniffed the salty water.

“<3 Nop3 Nop3 Nop3, t)(3r3 is no lusii 4nywh3r3 </3!” Haiamo growled at nothing.

Haiamo sped up to the surface and gasped when the salty air slapped her. She, using her arms, swam closer to the shore so she wouldn’t be knocked around by waves. The Alternian sun was barely visible now. Only a sliver of the powerful sun was left as the night slowly consumed the sky. The little light touched the sandy shore that sat near the rolling hills and endless fields. In Haiamo’s peripheral vision, she watched a young troll walked casually on the shore with bronze colored headphones. He had a half shaved head with curly black hair covering his right eye. He wore a brown long coat over his gray pants and a black shirt with the Taurun sign in the center.

“<3 W)(o4! 4 BROWNBLOOD?! N3v3r s33n on3 of t)(os3 ‘roun ‘3r3 ‘for3… H3y! Yo! Y34)(, yo!”

The brown-blooded troll at first didn’t hear the fuschia-blooded troll, but he looked over when she slowly raised her voice. At first, he didn’t see Haiamo swimming towards him, but once he did, a look of complete fear spread across his face. He ripped the headphones off his ears and dropped them around his skinny neck.

“Y-Yes, Ma-Ma'am?” The young troll stuttered.

Haiamo ignored the fear-stricken trolls… Well, fear… And asked, “<3 Yo, bro! ‘4v3 you s33n 4ny lusii ‘round ‘3r3? I’m tryin’ to find m3 lusus 4 m34l so th3y’ll stop both3rin’ m3)(.”

The young troll wildly shook his head, “N-N-No Ma’am, sorry M-Ma’am.”

Haiamo made a pouty face, which caused the brown-blood to leap back in fear. Haiamo sighed and fixed her rainbow lensed goggles.

“<3 O)(! 4y3, w4it! I ‘4v3 som3t)(ing for y4!”

The heiress lifted her toke bag and unclipped the gray Alternia weed sign that held the bag closed. She pulled out a baggie of Alternia marijuana and looked at it fondly, “<3 3v3n t)(o you didn’t ‘3lp m3)( find 4 lusus, I still t)(ink you’d lik3 t)(is. It’s on3 of my f4v-”

Haiamo looked up to see the troll racing away, moving his long legs as fast as he could to get away from the heiress. Haiamo, once again, made a pouty face and dropped the bag back into the toke bag. She clipped it and dived back into the water. The warmth of the sun was quickly lost as Haiamo dived deeper and deeper under the waves. As the dark water started to swirl around the seadweller, her night(water)vision turned on and she ignored the ice cold water that clung to her skin. Haiamo continued going deeper, hoping to catch something.

She soon would get her wish when she heard the slight sound of growling and the sound of something fast moving around her. Haiamo stopped moving and stood still. The slight growling was getting closer and closer. Haiamo slowly unclipped her bag and retrieved her weapon. A wand called Wand O’ Wonder.

Wand O’ Wonder was one of the items Haiamo found during her younger sweeps that she was proud of. Haiamo used to love to search the ruined ships and buildings that stood under the sea with Sharkmama. That is where 90 percent of her gold coins and jewels came from. But Wand O’ Wonder was found when Haiamo stumbled into some purple highblood’s private chambers when she was exploring a giant ship. There was a nine-foot tall skeleton wearing ruined black and dark purple robes and holding a white wand with dark brown ancient runes curved on the bottom. She took it and that is what started her secret interest in magic.

Clutching Wand O’ Wonder, Haiamo craned her neck forward and narrowed her eyes. Suddenly, a gray massive started to charge towards her. Haiamo dodged the mass’ attack and quickly turned to face it, bring her fangs.

It was the biggest type of whale lusus in Alternia. It had an entirely gray body with white under its huge fins. Ever spikes grew out of its back and around its fins. It had two rows of sharp teeth and its eyes were a deep violet. It let out a low growl and swam threateningly around Haiamo. Haiamo looked the whale deep into its eyes and adjusted her goggles. The heiress was slightly nervous about this fight. Wand O’ Wonder used the literal power of imagination, which took a lot of energy out of her. If she ran out of energy, she would be certainly be killed.

Haiamo ignored this fought and swiftly started the battle. She raised Wand O’ Wonder and imaged a fuschia laser-like light to burst out of the wand. She felt a sudden surge of warmth has a white blast with a fuschia outline and pointed tip shot out of the wand and shot towards the whale. It hit the whale in the center between its eyes. It roared it pain, but it didn’t cut him open and just made a large bruise. The whale snarled and charged.

Haiamo shot off three more laser-shots. Two of them missing, but one hit the whale’s side. It stunned it long enough for Haiamo to swim away and try to come up with a plan to kill it. Suddenly, a blast of searing pain consumed Haiamo’s right shoulder. The whale got swam up behind her and slashed deep into her shoulder with its left fin. The whale continued swimming before stopping and turning to face its prey.

Fuschia blood surrounded Haiamo like a thick swarm of mist. Haiamo gasped in pain and clutched her shoulder. Breathing heavily, Haiamo weakly raised her right hand and summoned a fuschia shield to protect herself from the whale’s charge. The whale bounced off the shield and shook its head wildly. Haiamo made the shield disappear and swam under the whale, who was still confused and even angrier. Haiamo imaged three dozen fuschia arrows as she stood under the whale. The whale didn’t notice three dozen fuschia outlined appeared and shot through the water and directly into his stomach. The whale snarled in pain and dove down.

Haiamo raised another shield and shot out two more lasers at the whale, both hitting its fins. The whale swam back, closing its violet eyes tightly.

In a sudden boost of adrenaline, Haiamo swam forward, shattering the shield, and shoving the Wand O’ Wonder into the whale’s eye. The creature howled in pain as the troll swam out of its reach. Violet blood poured from its eye. The whale blindly swam around, trying to see. Haiamo laughed as the whale struggled, accidentally catching some of its heavily salty blood in her mouth.

“<3 MOT)(ERFA- <3!” Haiamo cursed, spitting repeatedly.

The whale stopped and faced Haiamo, letting out a long, slow growl.

“<3 Shiiiiiit <3…” Haiamo muttered.

The whale roared and charged again. Haiamo moved slightly to the side and grabbed hold of the wand, trying to pull it out. Instead of doing just that, the troll started to be dragged around. The whale wailed as Haiamo wiggled the wand around, crushing up parts of its eye. Finally getting the wand free, Haiamo pushed off the whale. She started to clean off the violet muck with her already fuschia blood covered sleeve, not noticing the tail of the whale coming straight at her. The tail slapped her and forced her to crash into the rocky ground below.

Haiamo screamed in pain as her spine cracked against the ground. She dragged herself off the ground and watched as the whale circled above, exposing its giant underside. Haiamo took a deep breath and looked down. She noticed they the right side of her rainbow lensed goggles were shattered and the left side was cracked. Her Troll!Pepe the Frog necklace would cover in violet and fuschia blood.

<3 W4it… P3p3? <3

Haiamo stumbled to her feet, groaning as the pain in her back grew. The whale continued circling, letting out low hisses and clicks as it grew closer. Haiamo raised her wand and narrowed her eyes.

“<3 4Y3! )(OOFB34ST-S)(IT <3!”

The whale stopped and it's one eye looked down.

Haiamo stood with her legs apart and took an anime protagonist stance. She yelled and pointed her wand straight under the whale. A blast of bright light blinded the two and when they were able to see, they were met by the most beautiful thing that they ever saw.

Troll!Pepe the Frog was white with the standard fuschia outline. His pupils were rolling around in his round eyes and his tongue hanging out. He had tiny, but sharp-pointed horns. Pepe looked up and saw that his creator wanted him to attack the whale.

“REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!” Pepe screamed.

Pepe launched himself and, in a flash of light, ran straight toward the center of the whale, ripping a hole in his body. The whale coughed up blood before dying right then and there. Haiamo swam up and pushed straight through the giant hole, getting covered in violet blood and being hit by intestines. Haiamo ignored that fact, continuing to go to the surface. Once she broke the water's surface, the heiress watched as the Pepe, still screaming, stopped in mid-air and shook violently. Pepe exploded in a flash of fuschia. Mini frogs and rainbows fluttered across the Alternian night sky and faded into nothingness.

“<3 4W Y34)(! T)(4T’S MY FROG <3!” Haiamo cheered, laughing extra hard.

A bit of salty violet blood dripped down from her forehead and landed on her tongue. The troll coughed and started spitting into the sea.

“<3 O)( MY G4WD! T)(IS FUCKIN’ BLOOD… is…. So dis… disgusting…. <3”

Haiamo’s eyes rolled to the back of her head and slowly sank deeper into the ocean. She fell onto the back of the whale lusus, who was still bleeding out even though it had died. Haiamo noticed a white shark swimming towards her before passing out.

-*-*-*-

“<3 OW! T)(4T HURT <3!”

“RAAAAAAAA!”

Sharkmama was using her strong jaw to tighten the white bandages that her wrapped around her shoulder. The injured Haiamo sat on the staircase they lead to the second story of her castle while her lusus swam in mid-air. According to Sharkmama (or what Haiamo had interpreted), Sharkmama was waiting outside the castle when she was hit with the faint scent of fuschia blood. Knowing that it must have been Haiamo’s blood, Sharkmama quickly swam over to try to find her and heard from the surface an explosion. She watched as her troll floated onto the whale lusus and quickly, but cautiously, dragged both Haiamo and the dead whale lusus home. Currently, the lusus laid dead on the floor, blocking to exit.

Once Sharkmama finished tightening the bandages, Haiamo had to tight the shoulder bandages and fix her back support (while she was a good caregiver, Sharkmama was terrible at doing anything the revolved medical treatment.) Haiamo pulled out a blunt and her lighter and started to smoke, hoping the drugs would kick in so she wouldn’t feel the pain anymore. At first, the royal blooded troll believed her lusus would rip the blunt out of her mouth. Instead, Sharkmama pressed herself against her troll’s side and started to brush her knotted hair with her good fin.

Haiamo did not complain.

Once a few minutes of complete silence, Haiamo looked down at her feet. Her goggles laid on the floor, the lenses completely shattered. Haiamo sighed, letting out a large cloud of smoke.

“Raaa…?” Sharkmama noticed Haiamo’s woeful face.

“... Look, I’ll talk to you normally, okay?” Haiamo looked Sharkmama dead in the eye, who just simply blinked.

“I know you what me to become a better heiress. I know you want me to go out treasure collecting again like we used to. I know you want me to stop smoking and get off drugs. I know you want me to get away from the computer. And I know that you want me to just go outside and get real friends, as you say. But… But I like how I live. I could care less about my blood because it makes my life a living hell. I like looking and memes and sending them to my moirail and online friends because I find them funny, unlike some trolls who find murdering lowbloods funny. I like doing drugs because it makes me feel better and makes me forget my duties as heiress… And these goggles…”

Haiamo picked up the goggles. The fuschia rims looked awful and had many scratches and tears along the edges. The flecks of the rainbow glass hung pitifully on the side while the rest remained either on the floor of the castle or on the ocean floor. Haiamo blinked away fuschia tears.

“These goggles blinded me from a world of distrust, hatred, and fear. But… Now that they’re broken…”

“Graaaaa!”

“What?”

“Greaaaaaa!”

Haiamo watched as Sharkmama swam away into the left hallway and into one of the many treasure rooms. She appeared with a new pair of rainbow lens goggles, this time with black rubber that held them together instead of the dull gray. Sharkmama proudly dropped them into Haiamo’s gray hands.

“GRA! RAAAAAA! SCREEEEEEE! RAAAAAA!”

Haiamo translated it as This was supposed to be your Wriggling Day gift, but I was mad at you on that day and decided not to give it to you.

“Was it because you caught me higher than the clouds?!” Haiamo yelled with playful anger.

Sharkmama let out a toothy grin (or was she baring her teeth?)

Haiamo pulled out a hair tie from her bag and pulled her butt-length hair in a ponytail before putting on the goggles. Haiamo let out a big smile and cheered,

“<3 4W Y34)(! H4I4MO SOC3R3 IS B4CK 4ND R34DY TO KICK 4NYON3 W)(4L3’S 4SS <3!!!!!!!!!!!!”

The troll leaped up and tackled hugged her lusus. Sharkmama shook a little, not ready for the hug. But let out a soft sigh and nuzzled her troll. Haiamo smiled and whispered gently,

“Thank you, Sharkmama…”

The two hugged it out and continued into the early morning.

-*-*-*-

A young limeblood sat on a swing what appears to be his treehouse. He seems to be a collector of rocks and space with the many rocks and space posters around his room. He kicks his legs as his gray and black shorts move in the wind, revealing a single green line running down one side. His sleeveless shirt was smoothed out and showed off the gray sign of Cancer, more commonly known as The Sign of the Signless. He had a half shaved head with the shaved side being green. His green eyes sparkled with curiosity and wonder.

His name is Kiryus Terino and his adventure starts here…

(Please support @cay-reborn! They are a really cool person and allowed Haiamo into their comic! Byee!)

P.S KarkatandNepeta’s GayChild will live forever!

#writing #oneshot #homestuck #fantroll #notmyuniverse

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smol-nevi · 7 years ago

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Toto-Rak

That Time I Memed On The Entire Elysium

Kotone Shimayasu: “There are, however, rooms for rent in the cold and chilly city of Ishgard, where our next performer hails from! You might have already had a chance to see this pleasant person in that not-so-pleasant place, but it is the first time her wit and charm has graced our stage! Please put your hands together for our next performer -- Afnielle Realtais!”

The scuff of well-traveled boots announces the arrival of a Wildwood woman, hat tipped rakishly over blonde locks. A bouzouki hangs over her back, polished and loved but at least as worn as her boots. She takes center stage, and bows to the crowd, pausing a beat before speaking.

"Good evening, ladies, gentlemen. Gentleladies. Regular men. Irregular ladies. Not-so-gentle men, even. Terrible ladies, especially, those are my favorite sort! And all of you other variously-identified good folk I might have missed. My name is Afnielle, and I come to you bearing naught but a story, and a song."

"...And the clothing on my back, as I have been informed this is not /that/ manner of performance, alas, that'll have to wait for another night." She strikes a saucy pose.

Beile Kagon: "...Is she wearing pants?"

"Wh--YES, I am wearing pants, what sort of--the pantslessness is for next time, I just said that." Afnielle laughs behind a hand.

Beile Kagon: "Well my seats are far back! Looked like no pants!"

Megumi Yukimura: "I like your legs!"

"I'm fond of them too!" she grins.

With a deceptively simple shrug, she slings the bouzouki around from her back to her front, catching it without looking as easily as if it were just another part of her own being. It might well be, for all the use it's seen. Nimble, slender fingers pluck strings and tune, as automatically as breathing, while she speaks.

"They say," she begins conversationally, as though imparting a casual secret to the entire room personally, "there is a song so powerful, so incredible, that it has the power to destroy the minds of those who hear it — nay, even a verse or two of it. A song so potent that to but catch a fragment of its tune in passing can excite a man unto death."

With a dramatic pause, she looks up from her instrument. "Tonight, I shall play you this song." A beat. "Oh, no, of course not THE song itself, I'm here to entertain, not commit mass murder! A version of the song. A mere reflection. An echo, set to different words, safe ones. Though even after such measures, I must needs warn you..."

A wry smile, a capo clipped to the neck, and a chord to test the tuning. She spreads her arms wide, addressing the entire room. "It's still HELLA lit."

Talan Dracht: "Woah. Y'can sing a man ta death?" He questioned those immediately around him as he tilted his head. "Is that why ya always should tip yer bards?"

Afnielle abruptly launches into the song, opening with a few bright, syncopated chords, followed by a burst of rapid picking over the lingering notes that almost sounds as if it would have been more suited from a marimba.

"♪ I hear the hiss of a diremite…our healer's out of aether from doing constant conjura-a-ation. ♪"

"♪ The warden's whips gave us a fright; hallways drip with toxic slime that mires us in frustra-a-ation. ♪"

"♪ Got trapped in a web along the way, hoping to find some long-forgotten chest or ancient Allagan piece. ♪"

"♪ The tainted lice could hear me pray, 'Nophica, please take my soul to you!' ♪"

She suddenly spins, and a wisp of air-aspected aether swirls around Afnielle, just enough to create an almost ghostly vocal harmony. She stomps her feet, the beat heavily staggered and reminiscent of deep, ancient drums, then raises her voice high to lead into the chorus. It is at LEAST as lit as promised.

"♪ It's gonna take a lot to get me out of this goo, there's nothin' that a hundred Wood Wailers could ever do! ♪"

"I wish we'd stayed in Gridania! Never coming back, Toto-rak's long and dark and ba—a-a-a—a-a-ad! Ooh, ooh. ♪"

The Wildwood's voice settles back to its previous octave as she continues the melodic tale, low and calm again, as are her steady chords on the bouzouki. The tap of her thumb against its body and her boots on the wooden stage serve as percussion and counterpoint both.

"♪ We fought a swarm of prisoner's delight, and now the walls are changing colors as we stumble dru-u-unkenly. ♪"

"♪ I only want to see daylight, as sure as O'Ghomoro rises like Crystal Tower above the I-I-Indigo Deep. ♪"

"♪ We seek to kill what's deep inside, but Graffias is poisoning the ground～! ♪"

And then, heavier, drum-like foot beats signal the second coming of the chorus, high and plaintive and strangely nostalgic. She strikes the chords with her plectrum, letting them ring over the crowd and throughout the hall.

"♪ It's gonna take a lot to get me out of this goo! There's nothin' that a hundred Wood Wailers could ever do! ♪"

"♪ I wish we'd stayed in Gridania; never coming back, Toto-rak's long and dark and ba—a-a-a—a-a-ad, ooh, ooh. ♪"

Talan Dracht: "N'aw, seriously. Anyone? Y'can sing a man ta death?"

Agile fingers continue the pattern of chords, while Afnielle whistles a short solo, echoed by her bouzouki and the aetheric trick of the wind until it sounds almost like a sound from a Magitek synthesizer. Once more, she launches into the chorus, rallying her voice and aether one last time to deliver as much harmony as she can impart with only one performer.

"♪ It's gonna take a lot to get me out of this goo, there's nothing that a hundred Wood Wailers could ever do... ♪"

"♪ I wish I'd stayed in Gridania, I wish I'd stayed in Gridania, I— wish I'd stayed! I wish I'd stayed in Gridania, I-I-I—I wish I'd stayed, I wish I'd stayed in Gridania, ah, never coming back～ ♪"

Savo Kesslivang decides the bouzouki is an exceptional instrument.

"♪ Never coming back, Toto-rak is long and dark and ba—a-a-a—a-a-ad! Ooh, ooh... ♪"

Her voice softens and dies, and the aetheric chorus fades. Afnielle's strumming grows quieter, until nothing but the pizzicato plucking and the percussion of her boot remains, and then even that trails into silence.

She looks up, grinning at the audience. "Everyone still alive? No frenzied flailing or exploded heads? Good, good, that is encouraging. Should you begin feeling light-headed, I suggest calming yourself with a nice stiff drink such as the bar staff might pour for you...and do not forget to tip." The Elezen blows a kiss to the room, then bows, shrugging her bouzouki to her back and leaving the stage.

#FFXIV RP #Balmung #Performance RP #Afnielle Realtais #Keeper's Kiss

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liaragaming · 7 years ago

Text

Uncommon OC Questions, P2

Read part 1.

Continuing the character exercises to flesh out Inan Lavellan, Abigail Hawke, and Liara Tabris. I passed about a handful of these, but still a good questionnaire. Original meme can be found here.

1. A little-known talent of your OC?

Inan – Blackwall teaches her how to whittle one-handed after Trespasser. She makes lots of little wooden halla’s.

Abigail – She is very good with children, like so amazing. She was always looking after her younger siblings, and she just has a way with kids.

Liara – Leliana has told her she’s very graceful, like a dancer even though she’s had no training.

2. What trait does your OC like best about themself? (Eyes, guitar skills, random bird facts, etc)

Inan – likes her eyes and loves being a mage

Abigail – she enjoys looking good – putting on make up, styling her hair, mix and matching her wardrobe. Liara – she likes her hair and her knife skills. She’s very proud she taught herself.

3. How many pillows does your OC sleep with?

Inan – one

Abigail – so many

Liara – sometimes none, though she’s been assured that’s not good for her.

4. Is your OC good at keeping secrets?

Inan – if she feels it’s justified.

Abigail – she can keep them, but she’d rather no one came to her with them. She just doesn’t want to have to deal with it.

Liara – she is terrible at it.

5. Your OC's worst habit?

Inan – she ignores her own needs/wants to a detriment.

Abigail – beats herself up over the people she couldn’t save.

Liara – undervalues herself.

6. Does your OC prefer tennis shoes/sneakers or flip flops?

All: prefer comfortable, hardy boots that they can do their work in, though Abigail appreciates it when she can find ones that are functional and look nice.

7. What is your OC's opinion on body modifications?

All: I mean… sure? If you’re into that.

8. Your OC is given a full-ride scholarship to any college they could want to go to. Where do they go and what do they major in?

Inan – would learn everything she could about lost elven culture or history. Probably study in Tevinter.

Abigail – would have Fenris pick a subject so he could learn something new about something he’s interested in through her. Does matter where.

Liara – dance in Val Royeaux

9. What chore does your OC hate the most?

Inan – meeting dignitaries

Abigail – laundry

Liara – fighting darkspawn

10. Would your OC prefer to live in the city, the suburbs, or the country?

Inan – in the forest or among ancient ruins. Someplace with mysticism and history.

Abigail – she has grown to love the city

Liara – in the country, somewhere quiet and secluded where she and Leliana can live out their lives in peace.

11. Is your OC a blanket hog?

Inan – absolutely

Abagail – both her and Fenris hog the covers, so their nights end up in an unconscious tug of war.

Liara: No

12. Would your OC play by the rules in a fight or take cheap shots?

Inan: “What’s at stake in this fight?”

Abagail: “I can play by the rules so long as my opponent does the same.”

Liara: “Of course I’d follow the rules.”

13. Does your OC have a widow 's peak?

pass

14. Happy birthday! What kind of present would your OC want?

Inan: An eluvian that leads straight to Solas.

Abagail: A quiet day at home with Fenris.

Liara: A day with Leliana.

15. Something that grosses your OC out?

Inan: walking throw a spider web

Abagail: dirty dish water

Liara: getting sprayed with blood.

16. Your OC is suddenly on an adventure! Where do they go and what do they do?

All: No adventures, please. Just a nice place to rest with the love of my life would be grand.

17. Is there a real person that looks like your OC?

I did a quick google search, and I found one I like for Liara.

18. Something that makes your OC laugh without fail?

Inan: all of her friends

Abigail: most of her friends

Liara: Alistair or Leliana

19. Something that makes your OC cry without fail?

Inan: thinking about what might befall Solas

Abigail: “Why would you ask such a fucking insensitive question? Kindly fuck off, please and thank you.”

Liara: thinking she’ll never be able to share her life with Leliana the way she wants.

20. An obscure/ridiculous fear your OC has?

Inan: has too many real fears to worry about ridiculous ones.

Abigail: waking up one day to find everyone she knows and loves are gone and it’s her fault.

Liara: talking to people

21. Does your OC have any type of disability, whether it be mental, physical, etc?

Inan: she loses half her arm

Abigail: none

Liara: none

22. Does your OC get frustrated when people forget to close the door behind themselves?

Inan: she’s not used to having door, so… no

Abigail: yes

Liara: whatever

23. What is your OC's first memory?

Inan: Looking into her Keeper’s eyes.

Abigail: Giggling as her father throws her into the air.

Liara: Running around her home in the alienage being chased by her parents.

24. Something you like that your OC would hate?

Inan: all the time I spend indoors at the computer

Abigail: all the layers I wear

Liara: pumpkin pie

25. Your OC is going into battle/on a mission! What song is their anthem?

pass

26. Does your OC have good or bad posture?

Inan: good

Abigail: bad

Liara: she has no idea

27. Most despicable thing your OC has ever done?

Inan: let Celene die to put Briala in power

Abigail: tbd

Liara: allowed Morrigan’s Dark Ritual

28. Is your OC a conspiracy theorist?

Inan: does “everything is set up against the elves” count?

Abigail: no

Liara: does “everything is set up against the elves” count?

29. Someone does something awful in front of your OC. How do they handle it?

Inan: threatens them with a fireball

Abigail: is ready to smack some sense into whoever she needs to.

Liara: pulls out her knives

30. What is your OC's favorite drink?

Inan: red wine and herbal tea.

Abigail: ales

Liara: tea

31. Does your OC prefer to sleep in a warm or cool area?

Inan: warm

Abigail: cool Liara: warm

32. Would your OC like you if they met you?

They are all self-inserts, so I hope so!

33. A song that reminds you of your OC?

Inan: “Titanium” post Trespasser

34. Is your OC a nail biter?

Inan: no

Abigail: no

Liara: yes

35. What is your OC's favorite quote?

pass

36. Your OC's favorite fashion era? (20's, 70's, etc)

pass

37. Does your OC get excited when they get mail?

All: as long as it’s personal mail and not save-the-world related.

38. Random thunderstorm! How does your OC react?

Inan: finds someplace she can watch

Abigail: Uses it as an excuse to spend some quiet time at home.

Liara: “Oh, great.” Looks for shelter.

39. A strange talent of your OC?

repeat question

40. Assuming your OC doesn't have them already, what superpower would they want? If they do already, would they change it, keep it, or get rid of it?

Inan: she wishes she knew more healing spells

Abigail: If there was some magic that could keep all her loved ones safe, that would be nice.

Liara: cure for the blight

41. Does your OC like/make puns?

All: don’t make them, but don’t mind them.

42. What kind of shampoo does your OC use?

Inan: uses an herbal tea-like concoction as a rinse.

Abigail: soaps from the city market.

Liara: on the road, there are plants the Grey Wardens have told her to use. If she can’t find them, she just uses water and a comb. Otherwise, Leliana usually has soap for her.

43. Your OC wakes up with a coin super glued to their forehead. How do they react?

Inan: sighs and goes to find Sera

Abigail: Half annoyed, half amused. “Okay, whose bright idea was this?”

Liara: starts freaking out that someone in her group doesn’t like her

44. Can your OC sleep if there's any kind of light?

Inan: actually prefers some kind of natural light, like the moon or stars.

Abigail: prefers total darkness, but rarely gets it. She sleeps all right regardless.

Liara: light doesn’t bother her at all, but she needs have some kind of noise going on, like crickets or snoring or people talking.

45. What kind of self-esteem does your OC have?

Inan: pretty high

Abigail: less than she puts off

Liara: low

46. A word that your OC can't stand?

pass

47. Does your OC fold their clothes, hang them up, or just leave them in the basket/dryer?

Inan: folds her clean clothes, and puts the dirty in a hamper.

Abigail: hangs clean clothes, leaves her worn clothes in a pile by her bed. Eventually, she goes through them and decides what’s dirty and what can be worn again, and throws the dirty stuff in a hamper.

Liara: on the road, she tries to keep her dirty and clean clothes separate in her pack. Sometimes they get mixed up and she just washes everything. When not the road, she can’t shake the habit of living out her pack, and Leliana eventually hangs them up for her.

48. Would society call your OC a good guy or a bad guy? What would they say they are?

Inan: really isn’t sure. She’s done some good things as Inquisitor. But considering she put Briala in power at Celene’s death, the events of the Conclave, and impending war with Solas… she isn’t certain how she’ll go down in history.

Abigail: She fought to protect her city. She wants to do good, but she’s sure there’s people who see her otherwise.

Liara: good guy.

49. Your OC's most prized possession?

Inan: Solas’ necklace.

Abigail: a lock of hair from Fenris.

Liara: a locket from Leliana.

50. What is your OC's happy place?

Inan – the atrium at skyhold

Abigail – relaxing in her bed

Liara – anywhere with Leliana

#my ocs #dragon age #abigail hawke #liara tabris #inan lavellan

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rowanstories-blog · 7 years ago

Text

Forgotten

The fourth part of school began with as much excitement and joy as the last three had begun, which is to say none at all. The first part, morning classes, only had a mild buzz of enthusiasm as the halls filled with mumbling voices, spilling the latest news of who said what through texts and Internet memes the night before. Lunch followed as the second part, which would be an excellent time if not for the new rules preventing students from leaving the cafeteria without supervision. They all had Jamie Winston to thank for that, after a stunt involving Coke, Mentos, and, when those didn't give a satisfactory result, a cigarette and a fire cracker. The third part, afternoon classes, had all the dull expectations of the previous parts, without the drama of morning classes or the sub-par food of lunch to look forward to. All of these lead to the fourth inevitable part of the school day: detention.

Jamie tapped their pen on the desk, trying to get their taps to sync perfectly with the second hand on what was probably the last analog clock that could actually give an accurate time. That would probably end soon. The single nail holding it to the wall, after years of unquestioned servitude, would one day give out and fall, taking its time-telling master down with it. Well, if the school's walls didn't go down first.

"No tapping! What did I say about the tapping?"

Jamie rolled their eyes, showing just how absurd they thought the command was despite their outward obedience. Wasn't an hour of sitting in an empty, unused room with a clock from a long-past era and a teacher aged about the same punishment enough?

"Now don't roll your eyes at me, you. You're the one who got yourself put here."

Technically, it was the system who did the putting. All Jamie did was make the science of Coke and Mentos more interesting. Before Jamie could give a snarky one-liner about that, as all teens love to do, the intercom system by the clock sparked to life, summoning the human-disguised dinosaur to an office on the floor above them. The teacher obeyed without question, reminding Jamie of a dog running when it heard the command 'come,' not thinking of all why it should obey at all. Jamie didn't much care for dogs, so they had no problem thinking of the teacher, who they also didn't care for, in that frame of mind. They vastly preferred the independence of cats, who obeyed no one.

The empty classroom quickly bored Jamie, so they did what they did best- the first thing to come to mind. With a quick jolt to the window's frame, the 'child-proof' locks clicked open, proving that the high school should have sprung for 'teen-proof' locks instead. The window slid open with ease, and Jamie jumped out, sliding between the school's brick exterior and the hedges around it until they made it to the back of the building, where their buddies all gathered every day to trade smoke brands and determine which part of town they'd loiter in that day.

If Jamie had listened to the announcement given on the intercoms just a few minutes prior, they would have made a note that every authority figure in the building had been summoned to the back parking lot. Jamie, as usual, did not give their full attention to the words, so they got caught completely off guard as they slipped out from literal weeds into metaphorical ones.

---

"All you had to do was sit in a chair! How could you mess that up?"

Jamie replied to their father's tirade with the trademark move of those their age: an angst-filled shrug.

"Please," the principal said, as if attempting to relax a toddler, "sit down." He did, once again proving to Jamie that the all-encompassing system created by the illusion of authority turned teenage independent cats into adult obedient dogs. "Now, to review, Jamie got five months of detention for the... incident. We're barely two weeks in. Jamie, care to explain?"

Jamie hated to reduce the impact of their signature move by using it too often, but they couldn't resist thrusting their angst through their shoulders at someone so high up the imaginary authority ladder.

Their father huffed. "If you keep this up, you'll be thirty years old with no degree and no job! Do we need to ground you too? Is that what you want?" As if a workaholic authority-kiss-ass dad and mother of twin toddlers could ever keep Jamie's free spirit contained. They liked not having a plan for the future. Plans were just another form of systematic containment; living moment to moment suited the independent soul far better.

The door flew open, sending a jolt through the room. Jamie, used to the slow and predictable nature of these meetings, couldn't help but uncross their arms in surprise at the sudden and unexpected event, but quickly regained their composure.

The school guidance counselor, known to the hormone-fueled student body as Lady Tits, strut into the room, her dress's collar giving an excellent view of her namesake. Jamie's eyes caught on the cleavage, unable to unhook themselves.

"I'm very sorry to intrude," Lady Tits said, with a little bounce at the end of her sentence, "but when I heard about Jamie again, I thought I'd re-introduce my idea." She turned to Jamie. "You're not a fan of being all cooped up in a classroom, right? What would you say if you could spend detention another way?"

Her proposal interested Jamie more than her figure, but just barely. They managed to release their eyes from the low-cut dress and look up, eyebrows twitching. Jamie always tried to raise their eyebrow in times like these, but their muscles betrayed them. Still, that didn't stop them from trying.

Before anyone could ask for clarification, Lady Tits placed a large binder on the principal's desk with a comedic thud. She sat on the edge of the desk, legs crossed and hands holding down her dress, and began. "As the school guidance counselor, part of my job is understanding the students and their needs, especially those who are having trouble reaching their full potential. I've been working my way through many studies, which you-" she gave a pointed glance to the principal- "can review in this binder here. The studies clearly show what should be obvious to us in the education profession: detention does nothing. Students don't spend that time feeling bad about what they did or learning for the future, it just leads to brooding." Her next glance targeted Jamie. "And as we know, brooding only leads to bad behavior in the future. So what I've done is designed a new system: the Remedial Employment Experience, or R.E.E."

Jamie tried to stifle a laugh as they made the connection between the acronym and the sound of a screeching frog.

"And what is this R.E.E.?" their father asked.

"I'll put it very simply, and explain after." Lady Tits leaned toward Jamie, putting her assets on full display. "Jamie, you're getting a job."

---

Jamie leafed through the comically large binder, mumbling a number of profanities to themself. The binder, in addition to the 'studies' Lady Tits collected to shove in the principal's face, contained a long list of 'remedial employment experiences' that Jamie could choose from to partake in instead of attending detention. In all truth, they would prefer to sit in the room for the rest of the year rather than become a part of the capitalist system without the monetary benefit of capitalistic labor, but Lady Tits made a strong argument for having them be the test run for the detention-replacing system.

Their phone buzzed with snarky comments and linked memes once their friends caught wind of the 'screeching frog experience,' asking what job they'd be stuck doing.

"Just pick something you're interested in," Lady Tits had said during that meeting. "Consider it practice for your real future," the principal added. Neither of these statements helped Jamie, who prided themself on not having future plans.

Jamie prepared to reply to the group chat with a list of the lamest jobs they found, which was hard to quantify since they all were pretty terrible, when one caught their eye.

"Graveyard Assistant. 9pm to midnight, Monday through Wednesday. Assist the groundskeeper with miscellaneous tasks and keep watch over the property."

Jamie couldn't believe that such a job existed, and their friends in the group chats couldn't either. After several observed benefits revealed themselves, including having a secret drinking spot and scaring the more cowardly students by making them stay over on the grounds, Jamie knew they made the perfect choice.

---

The bike lock click echoed across the hills, making Jamie realize just how quiet the last ten minutes of their ride to the outskirts graveyard had been. The feeling of solitude only pleased Jamie all the more, making their heart pound with anticipation as they left their bike on one of the few still-standing fences and approached the main building. Jamie had to assume that the building was the main one, anyway, since it was the only building in view, made from the same gray stone that stuck up from the ground in slabs across the surrounding hills. The wood door groaned as it opened, acting as a thematic alarm system for anyone inside.

"Yo," Jamie called out, their voice booming in the surrounding silence. The interior of the building was as bright as an abandoned basement, with all the cleanliness of a barnyard after a tornado. The shadowed forms of various tools lay scattered along the floor and walls, with piles of grass clippings and tree branches piled in an unrecognizable system around the room.

Jamie thought back to their last social interaction, if family could be defined as a social experience. Their mom read off the directions to the graveyard from a print out, another vestige of ancient technology that now only served to show the previous generation's wastefulness of resources. Left, right, forward, whatever. There could only be so many graveyards up north of town, after all.

A loud clang rang out, not from Jamie's doing. They turned and leaned out of the old building toward the source, and noticed a tall figure on a nearby hill, form surrounded by moonlight.

"Hey! Are you the boss or whatever?" Jamie called out.

The form rose its head and turned, dragging a tool in its hand along with it. The tool rose and waved.

Perhaps the groundskeeper was hard of hearing, or lost its voice in some sort of graveyard-related accident. Jamie had imagined the job to be vaguely creepy, but they began to consider that perhaps they underestimated how much of the unsettling feeling of graveyards in movies was based in reality. Nevertheless, they slid down the stairs and approached the figure. The proximity and shifting of visual angle allowed Jamie to identify the tool the figure used as a large shovel, forcing itself into the ground and tossing loose dirt and rocks as it rose. The figure wore a tight dress shirt and pants, as if they planned to finish up their work here and head right over to the spring gala.

"Are you the boss around here?" Jamie asked again, still speaking loudly in case they couldn't hear well.

The figure's eyes looked to Jamie as their body continued to work. "Something like that," they replied slowly. "What brings you here?"

"I'm doing that anti-detention thing for the school. They're giving us jobs because they don't want to pay the teachers for detention-sitting or whatever."

The figure let out a low laugh, as if someone took a regular laugh, slowed it down, and added a bass underlay in preparation for an EDM mix. "Ah, to be young again." They paused their digging. "So that means you are here to assist me?"

"Guess so."

"Very well," the figure said. "Go get a shovel and come back here. We have much to do."

The two dug in silence as the moon rode across the sky, moving so much smoother than the second hand of the analog clock Jamie was accustomed to. The lack of noise began to ring in their ears, consuming the space around them. Their breathing and heartbeat rose to max volume in comparison, making Jamie painfully aware of the noises their body made to keep them alive.

"So," Jamie said to break the silence, "how much does this gig pay, usually? I don't get anything since it's a punishment."

"The satisfaction is pay enough," the figure replied, "and I hope you grow to think of this not as punishment, but as giving back."

"Sounds like something my dad would say," Jamie grumbled during an eye roll. "So do they actually not pay you?"

"The dead have nothing, and belong to no one."

Jamie didn't understand, but decided to drop the topic. They probably were getting paid by the government or something and didn't want to explain.

"It is finished," the figure remarked, examining the edges of the grave they dug together with long fingertips.

"Cool, so am I done?" Jamie turned to face the figure, but quickly realized their solitude in the bottom of the grave. Their heart began to race as their eyes darted around the hole. In a panic, they jumped up and grabbed protruding roots, using them to pull themself out of the hole and onto the cold grass above. They jumped up just in time to see the figure approaching the hole with a large black bag.

"We are not yet finished," the figure explained. "They deserve more respect and patience from you if you are to help them rest."

The figure motioned to Jamie to grab the top portion of the bag, while the figure held on to the back. Together, they led the bag to the edge of the hole. Before Jamie fully realized what they were doing, the figure told them to let go, and the bag fell into the hole, opening slightly at the top during its descent. Two glazed over eyes stared up at Jamie, sunk deep into a pale, thin face, with its mouth hung open, eternally caught mid-word. The rest of the body remained hidden from the bag, but Jamie's mind filled in the possible details at lightning speed.

"What the-" Jamie jumped back, catching themself pre-swear. "You didn't say we'd be burying bodies!"

"What did you expect?" the figure asked, without a hint of sarcasm.

Jamie fumbled with their words for a moment. "I mean, don't the bodies get buried, you know, at funerals? With the family and everything around? Not, you know, the dead of night, alone?"

The figure gave a long, forlorn sigh. "For those that are remembered, yes. But there are a great many who die forgotten, their names never to be spoken again, their stories lost at the end of their life. I am the one who remembers them, who gives them their final farewell, in place of any others in this world."

"So you bury people with no family or anything?" Jamie asked to clarify.

"Essentially. No one deserves to move to the next life without recognition."

Jamie's eyes skimmed along the empty hills around them, gravestones accented with the light of the moon, acting as beacons for each and every ended life surrounding them, then came to rest on the body below. They avoided looking into the eyes again, but their eyes moved to their long, ragged hair, their scarred skin, the hint of dirty and ripped clothing just barely revealed at the edge of the bag. The person, whoever they were, appeared homeless, or poor at the very least. And, according to the figure, they had died alone and entirely forgotten. Jamie's heart felt a pang of soreness from the thought.

They kept their mouth shut as the figure began reading from a tiny purple and gold book held entirely in one hand, saying the dead's name and speaking of her life. The words shone on the story as rays of the sun, basking it in the light of loving parents, and honest efforts, and wonderful talents. The sunshine then began to dim in the clouds of economic hardship, becoming darker still as the clouds moved on the winds of personal loss, bringing with it the thunder of grief. The rains of drug use poured down on the story, washing away the stable rocks of family, friends, and home. The rains poured down and the waters rose, and in the end, she drowned.

The figure closed the book, sending Jamie back to reality. They wiped away the stray tears quickly, not wanting the figure to see.

"Tears are a compliment," the figure replied to his thought. "They mean that you care."

The two worked in silence as their shovels moved the dirt back into the hole, moving the body away from the light of the moon for a final time. The two stood by the fresh mound of dirt in silence as the skies above continued to move around them. Jamie could hear their heart and breathing again, but they didn't care so much this time.

"It is late," the figure finally spoke. "I suppose it is time for you to go."

"Yeah," Jamie mumbled, unable to speak any louder.

"I wish to give you something, as thanks for helping me tonight."

Jamie opened their mouth to protest, to explain they only came from obligation, but the figure motioned for their silence. Their long fingers slid into one of their front pockets and pulled out another book, red in hue but otherwise identical to the book the figure read from previously. Their hand extended, and Jamie's hand reacted without thought to take it into their own. Their fingers ran along the wordless cover, making note of the golden patterns on the cover and bands along the spine, adorned themselves with tiny symbols they'd never seen before. Their thumb ran through the pages, expecting pages of information on funeral proceedings and the like, but found them all empty. They looked up, ready to attempt speaking once more, but found themself alone in the expanse of the cemetery.

---

Jamie returned home from their first night on the job to find their mother crying and their father on the phone with the police. They got a call from the cemetery director, their mother explained through tears, asking where they were, since they never arrived for the job. They expected as much, as tardiness is in the nature of teenage rebellion, but when their friends claimed they went to the job and hadn't seen them since school, worry consumed them. They cried of joy, then later of frustration as Jamie repeated the same story over and over, despite there being no cemetery so far from town. The police even checked the region to be sure that no one had set one up as a prank or something more sinister, but their searches, even with Jamie leading the way, found nothing.

Melina Ludwig, the school's guidance counselor for seven years after a brief stint in law, refused to give up hope in her R.E.E. program. She convinced the principal, Robert Brown, who once spent a month backpacking across Europe, to give it a second chance. The two requested that Howard Winston, Jamie's father and manager of a nearby warehouse, and on the off chance of his absence his mother Emilia Winston, who gave up her maiden name of O'Brierly after a long argument with her at-the-time-future-in-laws, drive Jamie to and from the job at the cemetery, to be sure of their whereabouts.

On the first day Jamie asked the groundskeeper Matthew Swint, who hadn't graduated high school due to his now ex-girlfriend's demands, when they would bury a body together. They got only a hearty laugh as reply, and spent the hours pulling weeds and chasing rabbits away from the flowers that loved ones left behind.

Over the weeks that Jamie worked, their mind routinely returned to that night, performing a ceremony for someone the world forgot. Sometimes people would visit a grave during Jamie's shift, and they would feel a pang of sadness for the ones who would never have someone look back on their memory. They hated seeing the flowers, too; they only reminded them of the emptiness between the rows of graves they had seen that night.

Despite the claims that the R.E.E. would help Jamie, their grades and focus only got worse in class. They focused instead on socialization, catching other's attention and absorbing as much as they could from observing and speaking to others. Their dreams filled with the image of the woman's face, mouth hanging open, eyes sunken and void. They would look into her grave and see their own face instead, visited by no one but the figure, reading off words of solitude and despair. Despite trying to fight the feeling with social graces and get-to-know-yous, the feeling of meaninglessness and absence of direction plagued Jamie, who now more than ever felt they lived without a future waiting, trapped in a story without a plot.

One night, almost two months after their experience, Jamie got a text relaying that both of their parents, who met during an Irish bar dance two years before marriage, couldn't make it to pick them up. They snuck a bike in the storage shed and made their way back home on their own, trying to remember the twists and turns that marked the way.

As they rode, they felt an increasing warmth in their left pocket. They worried about the cause, thinking of overheating phones and possible fires, until they realized that their phone rested safely and cooly in their right pocket. Stopping the bike, they pulled something they never went without from the left pocket: the red book from that night. The golden marks felt warm to the touch, and as their fingers ran over them, Jamie felt a deep feeling that they never felt before, giving them direction. They followed the feeling to the path's ledge, where, just beside the road, their eyes locked on to the silhouette of a human figure, crumpled and limp in the gravel hillside. Their eyes traced the ground from the figure to the road, marked with thick lines and circles of deep red across the pavement, telling the story of a single life-ending impact.

The book felt as if ablaze, but not painfully so. Jamie opened it, as they had a thousand times to observe the blank pages, only to find them now filled with line and lines of symbols saturated with meaning their eyes could now understand. When their view rose, they saw the familiar sight of gravestones lining the hills in the distance, surrounding a single building that appeared glowing in the night's dim light.

Jamie's eyes moved from the book, to the graveyard, to the body. In that moment, they knew what to do. Their story had found its plot.

#horror #anthology #short story #writing

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fyeahleoji · 8 years ago

Text

Gasolina

@bathsoaps - 4 times Guang-Hong brought the gasoline. umm, hope you like?? haha, this got a little long, too.

---

The whole world probably had a simultaneous aneurysm when Ji Guang-Hong announced his theme for the 2015 Grand Prix finals as Bonds and Violence. Shy, sweet Guang-Hong, who blushed for the media and sent Snapchats with flowers threaded through his hair…

And sure, Leo was a little bit surprised. But at the same time, he wasn’t, because even though skating was supposed to be about reaching outside your comfort level, he knew Guang-Hong better than that. Anyone who thought he was all flowers and blushing was an idiot.

(Or they just didn’t know him well enough. Not the way Leo did, at least.)

Because Guang-Hong was ten thousand tons of explosive energy corked into the world’s cutest bomb, his pretty smile the curved sheath to a knife. He was dirty jokes slid under your ribs at 3 AM and slivers of pale skin right beneath the edges of his sweater…

He could probably kill Leo and not even get any blood on his pink cheetah-print curtains.

Fortunately, Guang-Hong wasn’t like that all the time. (Leo was glad for that- he’d probably die.) But when he was, it brought feelings up to the surface of Leo’s skin that he wasn’t quite ready to face, like even though he wanted to run, there was the inexplicable urge of wanting to grab the front of Guang-Hong’s costume and smash their mouths together on the ice.

He was standing in the room watching Guang-Hong’s programme on television. And it was terrifying, like he was fighting instead of skating, a spark in his eyes that couldn’t just be there for the crowd.

“Your boyfriend’s fire,” one of the other skaters commented, and Leo blushed and tore his gaze from the screen.

That wasn’t true. Guang-Hong was just his friend.

---

The second time it happened (in Leo’s decidedly terrible memory), they were thousands of miles apart.

Most of the time, Leo hated those thousands of miles. Hated that Guang-Hong was just pixels on a screen, their day and nights reversed. But this time, he was quietly relieved, because he wouldn’t be close enough for Guang-Hong to burn with his flame.

(That might not be true, actually. Guang-Hong managed to wreck him from an ocean away better than anyone else in America ever had.)

They were both tired today. Their practices were long and grueling, and somehow, (scientific phenomena) their bad moods tended to sync up. They sat without talking, a miniature version of Guang-Hong bandaging his feet up on the screen. Leo plucked at the strings of his guitar, the music for once not making him feel any better.

God… skating had killed him today, a series of one trainwreck after another. All of his muscles were sore, not a single bone in his body spared from the torture, and usually, he was okay with that. Okay with that because he felt like he was making progress?

But he was just stuck.

Leo relied on presentation. Relied on his own choreography, on the way he was able to understand the music. But last year’s GPF had showed him that wasn’t enough, so he’d been on the ice for weeks on end now, trying to master a quad. And today his coach had snapped.

She’d apologized right afterward, but her words didn’t hurt any less. Because they were true.

“What’s on your mind?” Guang-Hong asked. “I just sent you a doge meme. And like, you didn’t respond.” Leo checked his phone- there was indeed an image in his inbox. His mouth twitched in the beginnings of a smile before settling down into a hard neutral name.

“My coach told me I should quit today,” Leo said finally.

Guang-Hong’s eyes hardened. “Did she mean it?”

“Does it matter?” Leo asked.

“God, don’t ask stupid questions. Of course it does.”

Leo took a deep breath, putting the guitar down. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

Guang-Hong was silent on the other end of the line before whispering, “You can’t possibly believe that.”

And maybe that was the motivation Leo needed to just spill, because it’d been building up for weeks at this point, and right now it almost didn’t matter that Guang-Hong might never look at him the same way again…

Leo laughed bitterly, running his hands through his hair. “I do. Because you know what, we can’t all be Yuuri and Viktor and Chris… some of us just aren’t good enough.”

“Don’t,” Guang-Hong said, and his voice was hard. “Don’t, if you do, I’ll never forgive you.”

Leo’s voice rose, cold and broken. “Can’t you just let me fuck up my quad toe in peace? You got them in what, after a month? And I’ve been going at this for almost a quarter of a year and I’ve been landing on my ass every single time.”

“This isn’t you,” Guang-Hong said. His phone trembled, like he couldn’t hold it right.

“Yeah- well. I guess it’s not. Because all I am- is…”

“A what.”

“A nothing,” he said. “A fuck-up. I don’t deserve to stand on the same ice as you guys…”

There was nothing for a couple of seconds, and Leo thought that Guang-Hong had hung up. If he had, Leo deserved it- he felt like he was spiralling, quick and hard and uncontrollable, and he wasn’t going to drag Guang-Hong down with him.

And then the phone exploded. No- just the volume. He nearly dropped the device from the sheer force of Guang-Hong’s voice, hard and angry and jesus was that the boy that had stood eating jianbing near a street vendor-

“Clearly, you need someone to knock some sense into you!” he yelled. “Okay, listen up- and you’re going to listen, I don’t care if I fucking blow your eardrums out with this speech, because you need to hear this. Do you even know how much I admire the way you skate? How much I wish I could do choreography like that? Your quad toe can go fuck itself for all I care, because I love the way you skate, and so many people love the way you skate- and maybe you don’t believe in yourself but I fucking do and you. Are not. Going to question that.”

(Silence.)

“Leo de la Iglesia, if you hung up, I’m going to take a plane over there and murder you with an ancient Chinese blood ritual. Or maybe a kitchen knife. Both.”

“No, I’m still here,” Leo said, dazed.

“God, you better be.”

“I deserved that, didn’t I.”

“Trust me, you don’t deserve anything,” Guang-Hong said, and Leo’s head dropped. “I just- don’t let it get so bad that you threaten to quit on me, okay? We still need to podium together at the GPF… don’t try and drown everything out with your trashy pop music. Talk to me.”

“I don’t listen to trashy pop music.”

“If you say so.”

---

Leo never really had any memorable airplane scenes before. Sure, there was that one time he couldn’t fall asleep and ended up puking on the landing… but he wasn’t referring to the actual airplane part. Just the airport.

Usually, waiting at an airport felt comfortable. He felt slightly dizzy, sometimes, if he was the one getting off, and slightly bored if he was the one waiting. Because he knew what he’d see, that they would look the same way they always did.

But Guang-Hong was uncharted territory.

There were only a certain amount of pixels on a screen, and Guang-Hong was- well, the planes of his face, his body, was infinite. Leo could probably make an entire soundtrack from his freckles alone (he considered that one night before deciding he’d be way too embarrassed if anyone ever found it… Guang-Hong did have a playlist on his phone, though. Gasolina. Andas en mi Cabeza. Shooting Star. It was way too long and Leo listened to it way too often.)

So he didn’t really know how it would be when he saw Guang-Hong again. And Jesus, it felt like he was getting ready to jump out of his skin at this point.

And then- there. In the crowd. He was wearing his Team China jacket and pulling a beat-up red suitcase behind him, at least a dozen charms attached to the straps.

He’s full-screen, Leo thought. Then, because that was the dumbest thought ever, No. Duh. That’s because he’s here.

His heart pounded. Guang-Hong still hadn’t seen him, and Leo couldn’t even move.

I should. Tell him I’m here. He’d thought of plenty of first sentences he wanted to say, witty and cool. Something about overpriced airport empanadas or American-flavored t-shirts. But all he could think about when he saw him was oh my god he’s here and I really, really want to kiss him.

He’d have to work on that second urge. Who knew if Guang-Hong wanted to kiss him back?

It turned out that he didn’t have to worry because Guang-Hong said it first. “Leo!” he said. Not that loud.

Leo bit his mouth. “Hi,” he managed to get out. He’s so real. How is his face and voice so different than what they were an hour ago? Also, can my thoughts please dial back on the gay? This is getting out of hand. Don’t scoop him up- airport security will probably think you’re trying to kill him or something.

Guang-Hong ran over. And his posture was shy, but his face was blazing, and the way he mumbled I missed you nearly melted Leo into the floor.

---

July. Fireflies appearing in the bushes like spots of light, and Leo was only a little bit sad that Guang-Hong was leaving tomorrow. (That’s Guang-Hong for you; hard to say hello to, and hard to say goodbye, but the middle left Leo dizzy and breathless and alive.)

“I don’t want to go,” Guang-Hong confessed. “Your family’s so nice.”

“My little sister’s, like, in love with you,” Leo said. So am I- maybe it’s a gene that runs in the family.

Guang-Hong smirked. “Nah, she just loves my hair.” And Leo grinned, because Guang-Hong was the kind of guy that would let seven-year-old girls stick pins in his hair and then actually keep them in for the rest of the day until they fell out in his sleep.

“So,” Leo said. “I feel like we should be talking about something.”

“And we’re not?” Guang-Hong asked. “This is usually how conversations work, Leo. With words.”

“You know what I meant,” Leo mumbled. “Just- you’re going tomorrow. I feel like I should be making some kind of sappy dramatic speech right now. Like at the end of a movie.”

Guang-Hong smiled. “Oh, so like in the King and the Skater.”

“Exactly like in the King and the Skater.”

“What, you want me to kiss you before I leave for China?”

“Yes.”

Silence. Leo couldn’t breathe. “I- I mean,” he stammered. “Um.”

Guang-Hong rolled his eyes. “Oh my god, shut up-” before he stood up on his tiptoes and yanked Leo’s mouth down to meet his.

(And Leo learned that Guang-Hong kissed like fire.)

#leoji #leo de la iglesia #guang hong ji #yoi #fic #drabble #gasolina #there was supposed to be a cheongsam #this is so gay #mod gliss

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