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[semprvivum]

Sempervivum sp.

[always-and-forever-a-killjoy]

Part 3 of Semp’s Bad Fic About Cherri Cola

Good evening y’all and welcome to the latest episode of 'Semp can't title shit to save his life'! On this episode, he will refer to himself in third person, write about Fun Ghoul, and compose poetry so bad it's a disgrace to Cherri Cola's name. 

I’m sorry for posting twice in one day, but i have absolutely no impulse control and I finished this today so...there you go.

Title: Sofas and Poetry

Wordcount: 1090

Summary: 

Cherri Cola has the unfortunate habit of leaving his poetry lying around Dr. Death Defying's radio station.

Fun Ghoul has the unfortunate habit of being a nosy gremlin

Aka how Fun Ghoul got a lot more than xe bargained for, learned about a war and Cherri Cola's backstory, and continued to be a little shit to Party Poison, feat. my shitty poetry.

Warnings: mentions of death, violence, and war. Nothing is super graphic but let's just say cherri's life has really not been fun. Also lots of swearing but that's a given with me.

Taglist: @sleevesareforlosers @tasteofamnesia (sorry for tagging y’all twice in one day, like I said I have no impulse control)

AO3 link

(Actual fic under cut)

“Give that back!” Cherri Cola called exasperatedly.

Fun Ghoul leapt onto the back of the sofa, out of his reach, still holding the poem. “I want t’ read it! I never get t’ read your poetry!”

“I read poems on the radio at least once a week!”

“Yeah, but only Jet n’ Kobes listen t’ that!”

Cherri sighed. “At least take one of the finished ones.”

“But this one looks neat,” Ghoul protested, still perched precariously on the back of the sofa.

Cherri sighed again. “If you get off D’s sofa, I’ll read you the poem. Whichever one it is.” He didn’t know exactly which of his poems was on the raggedy scrap of paper that Fun Ghoul had managed to steal, but chances were it would be one he was planning to read on the radio anyways.

Ghoul seemed to think for a moment before he hopped off the top of the sofa, tilting xyr head at Cherri as if to say ‘pay up’. “Got off Dr. D’s sofa.”

“I suppose you did,” Cherri sighed, settling himself down on the sofa as Show Pony went skating by, yelling something about “Do y’ think we’ve got the carbons for that?”, presumably to Dr. Death Defying.

Ghoul happily settled next to Cherri, waving to Show Pony before passing Cherri Cola the scrap of paper.

Cherri’s heart plummeted when he recognized the poem on the sheet, but he forged on anyways. A deal was a deal, even if this one was a bit of a heavy topic.

“This one isn’t really finished, just warning you.”

“’S okay.” Xe looked over (and up) at him expectantly, and Cherri took a small breath.

“Right. Uh. Here we go.

Blood on your hands, a final goodbye. You drown in your grief, you scream to the sky. You held onto your pain, your fire, your rage. You cannot escape, your mind is a cage.

The people fell and the bodies rose. The deadly bomb brought the war to a close. Every body once had a beating heart. Every fallen soldier a craft or an art.

You fought a war from pain and grief. You are drowning, searching for relief. The wind whispers and shouts their names, The Phoenix Witch plays her games.

None of them deserved to fall, And in the night you’ll hear them call. They whisper oaths to the ones left behind, You offer quiet promises in kind.”

It wasn’t his best work, not by a long way. The rhymes were clunky and the symbolism obvious. It needed a lot of refining before Cherri would count it as finished, and even then, he doubted it would be his favorite.

But Fun Ghoul looked at the very least intrigued, eyes wide as xe asked Cherri “What does that all mean?”

“It means…” For once, the poet was at a loss for words. “It means that every person deserves to live. Every soul deserves peace. It means that there are no winners in war, only the ones who died and the ones left behind.”

“Oh.” Xe frowned, looking both thoughtful and awfully young. “How d’ you know this stuff, Cola?”

“I’ve seen it.” He debated how much was appropriate to tell a literal teenager, and ultimately decided most of his stories were no worse than what Fun Ghoul would have seen already.

“I’ve watched so, so many people die for no reason. I’ve seen killjoys die for love and their love die a second later. I’ve known parents who gave their lives for a future that their children never even got to have, I’ve heard tales of medics and neutrals who were just trying to help the wounded when they were shot down. I saw the loss of life in the Analog Wars and the years after, and I saw the grief that followed. I knew children who were forced into fighting for Better Living Industries and killjoys who ended up fighting their former friends; I felt the pain and wrote the tales.”

Ghoul stared at him. “Shit, Cola. That’s…”

“I know,” Cherri said quietly. “I’ve seen horrors that I can’t express in any typical way. That’s part of why I write.”

“Shit. That’s- that’s really rough.”

“It’s been a long time.”

It had been, longer than he wanted to think about- or really remembered, for that matter. There had been years where all the days blended together, and who knows how long lost in the haze of addiction and sunlight. It was so easy to lose track of the time when all your effort was focused on getting through each day, and he still vividly remembered the years spent in that state of survival mode. It hadn’t been long enough for any of those memories to start fading away, much as he wished he didn’t carry the pain of his past.

Cherri shook his head, clearing away those thoughts to focus on what Ghoul was saying.

“-an’ can I have some of your destroya-cursed tea? Poison hates it and I want t’ get back at ‘em for that prank they pulled last week.”

He had no idea what prank Poison had pulled last week, but knowing them, it had probably been dastardly. “Alright, you can have some of my very good tea.”

“No offense, but tha’ tea is th’ worst thing I’ve ever tasted.”

“Rude,” Cherri sniffed, but he ruined his own dramatic effect by letting a smile slip. It was impossible to stay mad at any of the Fabulous Four for long, not with their bright smiles and laughter always bringing the room to life, not to mention how truly young they felt compared to him. They were still teenagers after all, no matter how fiercely they fought or how famous their crew.

So he took a bit of the radio station’s precious water supply and threw together some tea, giving it to Fun Ghoul in an old plastic water bottle. “Here you go, trouble.”

Xe grinned. “Thanks, Cola!” He gave Cherri a thumbs-up before running off, presumably to head back to the diner and prank Party Poison.

“Be nice to Poison, okay?” Cherri hollered after xem. “Don’t prank them too much!”

“Will do!” Xe hollered back, not sounding entirely honest.

Cherri shook his head and returned to his poetry, only later realizing that the poem he had shown Fun Ghoul was gone.

Ah well. Sometimes, the young and reckless needed a reminder of what the might face- and what they were fighting for. He hoped his poem would serve that purpose well enough.

[stellarbisexual]

a meme after my own heart

Tagged by @semperama & @thatmysticbafflingwonder my loves <3

I’m going to spend an inordinate amount of time on this so I can live up to my MFA degree in Film Studies. 

RULES: Answer the following questions! You can only use each movie once.

Favourite movie: I... genuinely can’t do this.  Just see the below questions - I’ll incorporate them there. :)

Movie that makes you remember your childhood: Teen Witch

Favorite Tom Hanks movie: A League of Their Own.  I know this probably isn’t traditionally thought of as a “Tom Hanks movie” because he doesn’t play the lead, but I fucking love his performance in it.  (And I’ve said it a million times: if they ever remake it with the same characters - which they shouldn’t - Chris Pine should play Jimmy Dugan.  He would be so funny and perfect.)

Movie that makes you cry: My Girl, every time.  Seriously: if I’m craving a good cry, I will put it on to make myself cry.

Favourite 80’s movie: Probably St. Elmo’s Fire, aka the black sheep of the Brat Pack movies.  I love it.  That soundtrack is everything. 

Favourite comedy: EVER?  This is really fucking hard.  I’ll just say Robin Hood: Men in Tights because it was really formative, and I can still quote entire scenes word for word.  

Favourite sports movie: The Sandlot

Favourite courtroom movie: I, too, am going to be basic and say 12 Angry Men.  

Favourite war movie: The Best Years of Our Lives.  It’s a good one.  Watch it. 

Favourite animated movie: Probably The Little Mermaid.  I still get Emotional when I hear the opening credit music. 

Favourite horror movie: It 1990 miniseries.  THAT’S RIGHT.  I realize The Exorcist or Rosemary’s Baby are better films, but they are not my favorite.  I used to rent IT from my video store on a weekly basis.  

Most overrated movie: The Royal Tenenbaums and pretty much all of Wes Anderson’s oeuvre.  I think it’s all pretentious trash. 

Favourite gangster movie: Goodfellas

Movie with the best soundtrack: Vertigo.  VERTIGOOOOOOO.  I hear the music from this and have to sit down immediately. 

Movie you can watch over and over: Same as Semps, most movies I love.  Recently?  Call Me By Your Name.  I went to see it in the theater several times.  When it came out, I just wanted it projected behind my eyes at all times.  I loved the world they created.  

Most embarrassing movie you love: I’m not embarrassed, but the one that I watch pretty much every time it’s on TV and that I am likely judged for is Phat Girlz.  

Favourite Christmas movie: It’s a Wonderful Life.  I AM BASIC!

Favourite sequel: Wayne’s World 2.  IT IS SUPERIOR TO THE ORIGINAL.  I quote it all the time.  I am in the minority of viewers, I realize. 

I tag: @suedescripture; @tozierking; @speakslowtellmelove

LOOK AT ME, TAGGING PEOPLE.  It truly is end times.