New Member
nobody nobody nobody nobody nobody
|
Post by big on Aug 16, 2018 19:58:03 GMT -5
"no fish, big?"it was too early for this. too early for anything. the lights behind his eyes were barely on, projecting more blood than they did white. he was acutely aware of the bustle around him, his inner monologue cursing the fact that the entire world seemed to be going a tad bit faster than he could process it, a tad bit faster than he could fathom ever moving at this exact moment. "uhh...." his mouth hung open as he processed where he was and what he was doing. he looked to his right where his bag lay, unfurled on a counter, revealing still-damp clams and various plants. right, he figured, he went fishing last night. "i don't want this garbage. i'm sorry big, i'm sorry. you know i appreciate you but-- this is an aquarium-" big interrupted her, his hand raised to indicate 'stop' or something like that. "no no you don't understand it's- it's," the elderly lady started to push big out of her store. he felt like maybe he should resist but didn't. maybe he couldn't? it was too fucking early, he was too fucking hungover. this woman could've broke him over her knee like a bag of potatoes at this time. he was pushed to the door of her little shop. there were people inside. they looked like a million miles away, completely in a different universe than big. if they noticed this little disruption, they made every effort to make it seem like they didn't. "its hard," big explained, referring to fishing. she apologized once more. the door slammed in front of him. big felt the ripple of the slam through the crowd behind him. the river of people noticed, rubbernecked a little to maybe ascertain why the hell the nicest lady on this street had just kicked someone out, but ultimately continued on in the direction they were going. he thought to write a poem about this feeling -- of being the ripple. how being that ripple felt like a big ass deal. how the river couldn't give two fucks if you made a hundred ripples. he rubbed his eyes. he imagined his hangover like a few dozen scales wrapping around his body, tight like a boiled pokemon egg. rubbing his eyes caused a few to flake off. a few flaked off when he was essentially told to fuck off by that old woman, too. the door swung back open. she set down his bag and his fishing rod, avoiding eye contact with big. she closed the door once again, this time more carefully as to not slam it. big reached down and grabbed his stuff, swinging the pack over his shoulder and leaning his fishing pole against the opposite shoulder.
"what a bitch." another day, another roadblock between him and money. the game's rigged. tagged: FRAN FALLONE
|
|
New Member
|
Post by FRAN FALLONE on Aug 17, 2018 14:37:36 GMT -5
 I'M CONSTANT LIKE THE SEASONS
I'LL NEVER BE FORGOTTEN ― It was overcast again. Fran was able to enjoy the sights of the city without squinting her eyes against the beating sun. Not that she was there as a tourist. She passed through the concrete streets in a vague direction. Her reflection in the windows adorned her with a plain black hoodie, black tanktop, and skin-tight jeans. A classic "who-gives-a-fuck" look; one that she wore often. She hoped to beat the approaching storm.
With one fist in her pocket, Fran used the other to click along the surface of her brand new phone. She was stretching her technological legs. Before now, she hadn't a reason to invest in something as frivolous as a cell, but circumstances shifted as she dove deeper into her pokemon journey. She set it to vibrate.
Whether she was out of practice, or too naturally focused, Fran was not watching exactly where she was going. The raven-haired woman was fully engrossed in relearning how to use a phone.
She barely heard the commotion ahead of her. A strange crowd of faceless civilians started to form, but she pushed through them effortlessly. After all, no one wanted to bump into a woman that wore such an austere expression on her face. They parted like the red sea to evade a wrathful confrontation. That is, until she collided with something that couldn't move out of her path.
Fran stepped through a thin wire, tripping up her footwork . The pole dragged behind her for a moment before she noticed what had happened. "Who the fuck left this here," she muttered in an annoyed tone.
It didn't take long for her to fixate on a larger man just beyond. He wore a fluffy jacket but was otherwise plain looking. His eyes were wrung with dark circles. Fran turned toward him, kicking the fishing pole off her ankle. He had muttered something she mistook for being directed at her. "What did you just say to me?" She spat, emerald eyes starting to burn into the boy. |
|
New Member
nobody nobody nobody nobody nobody
|
Post by big on Aug 19, 2018 2:00:49 GMT -5
her eyes like glistening emeralds,
got me under her chaos control.there are, hypothetically speaking, an infinite number of thoughts that big could have had that might have been useful in this situation. a fight or flight response with the barometer hissing steam and the pointer vibrating on FLIGHT. a million different versions of "i'm sorry!" or "i didn't say anything to you, ma'am!" an excuse, maybe -- an explanation that she wasn't a bitch but, well, that old lady in there was a bitch -- but honestly is anyone a bitch? are we calling anyone a bitch, really? hell, there might have even been a joke or two in there: "what did you say to me, you little bitch? i'll have you know i graduated at the top of my class," and so on and so forth. but this is post-rejection, post-finding-out-he-might-be-going-hungry big. his mind comes up with a poem. he opens his mouth to say something and it is very nearly, "want to hear my poem?" but instead it is "whooO - what?" which makes sense in some subset of situations, i guess (a conversation between noctowls?) but in this one meant practically nothing. his face contorted in some never-before-seen, never-released-to-the-public shape as he realized he needed something better than this. big put his hands up over his head, his fishing pole falling to the side, having become untangled from her foot by her little kick. "listen." he said. he raised his hands higher, as if being accosted by the police. his face read fear. it might have read something a little more had he a more expressive face. it read only fear, though. "listen." his voice came out breathily. as a matter of fact, he was panting. afraid for his life. he spoke more to himself than to the terrifying woman in front of him, or perhaps as if she were a houndoom intent on tearing his face off and he were speaking to assuage his own predisposition to shit himself. that poem ran through his big, dumb useless head. "there are reasons -- which exist -- for you not to kill me." quick. breathy. maybe she would pick up on the fact that these little fragments interconnect, but it was just as likely they were nonsense. they sounded like nonsense to big. got me under her chaos control"are you like..." he hated making eye contact with her. he stopped doing that now. he looked at some children across the rivulet of people moving through the streets and generally doing-stuff. they looked so happy. so unencumbered by not having just been accused of calling some scary bitch a bitch. "are you... mad at me?" big looked back at her for a moment, and then down to her feet as to avoid eye contact again. tagged: FRAN FALLONE
|
|
New Member
|
Post by FRAN FALLONE on Aug 19, 2018 13:33:42 GMT -5
I'M CONSTANT LIKE THE SEASONS
I'LL NEVER BE FORGOTTEN ― Wait, what the fuck did he just say? She stared blankly at the boy before her, blinking slowly. The raven-haired woman subtly raised an eyebrow, not sure how to process the expression now painted messily across the stranger's face. He seemed to be collecting thoughts in a trash bin behind his eyes.
He sounded like he was having a heart attack. His breathing was patterned like the launch of a torpedo. Fran leaned away from him. It didn't make any sense to her that such a cowardly individual would wish to pick a fight with her.
There's always reasons not to kill someone. First of all, it was against the law, and Fran hated criminals. She rarely entertained the thought of straight murdering someone, but her mind was often struck with thoughts of beating an individual within an inch of their life. Surely that wasn't as bad as murder. And most everyone on the receiving end of her fists had it coming to them. Or so she reasoned.
He also had green eyes. Fran held them in her own for only a moment before her stare overpowered the boy. She was used to that. Still, she held his features firmly in her sight, ignoring those around them. They weren't nearly as interesting as this.
"I wanna know what the fuck you said and who the fuck you were sayin' it to, kid," she spoke, her words sounded like a low rumbling thunder. Fran would not back down from her initial fury. It didn't matter if he was afraid or not, if this stranger truly had called her out, she would respond in kind.
She took a step toward him, throwing her fists into onto her hips. Fran leaned forward, bringing her face closer to the boy, trying to inspire him to look into her eyes and tell her exactly what he was saying. No bullshit. "So?" A person should choose their words carefully if they wish to avoid an altercation. |
|
