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 Posted: Wed Sep 07, 2011 8:28 am
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Posted: Wed Sep 07, 2011 8:46 am
I Could Have Lied Roch finished typing out his hitting on Riley on groanspring, a little grin pulling at his lips as he looked up. The man behind the counter looked impatient, which he jackin’ well didn’t deserve to be, because it was Roch who’d been waiting ten minutes for him to check the kids in front of him into the karaoke bar. “Next,” the demon said, looking at him pointedly. “And where is the rest of your group?” “It’s just me,” Roch said, digging into his pocket. “You realize that means you have to pay for the full thing, don’t you?” “Yeah, I know.” “Can you AFFORD that?” “Look,” Roch said, wanting to grab the b*****d by that too stiff collar he was wearing. “Do YOU want to be in a group with me? Cuz if you wanna hear me practicing my jackin’ FEAR I’ll be more than happy to oblige.” The demon just gave him a single raised eyebrow. “I see. I suppose your parents will be paying for this? Although obviously they aren’t paying for your clothes.” Roch just stared at him, his silver eyes cold. “Do you usually try and discourage people from paying you?” he asked coldly. “In a business where I’m paid AFTER--“ Roch tossed the bag of seeds onto the counter. “That should be enough for an hour,” he said with impatience. “Can I get the key now?” A key card was handed over without a word as the demon started counting the seeds in the bag. “Did you steal these?” he asked as he pulled out a silver tooth. “No,” Roch said, summoning his guitar. “I earned them.” He headed for the hall, his guitar in one hand, the card in his other. He stopped, seeing the group from earlier laughing as they made their way into the booth next to his. They weren’t from his school, at least, he hadn’t seen them there. They didn’t look very tough at all. “Jackdamn I hope these walls really are soundproof,” he muttered as he unlocked his door. “Hey, hey, reaper boil!” one of the ghouls in the group called over. “You’re kind of cute! You want to join us?” “He’s a reaper!” one of the boils whispered. “We don’t need a reaper--“ “Sorry, I gotta practice,” Roch said with an easy grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He held up his guitar. “Oooh, he’s a musician! Sex-ah!” the ghoul said, laughing. Roch just gave them a little smile and slipped into his own room, locking the door behind him. An hour. Could he get much done in an hour? It didn’t matter, he had just handed over every single silver seed he’d earned in the past couple of weeks, and all he could AFFORD was an hour. These booths were meant to be shared, as was the bill. And this was supposed to be one of the high class places, the ones with the real sound proofing and all that jack. If it was a lie, he’d be in such deep s**t, he thought as he looked around the room. Plush black couches surrounding a short table, a small platform with a screen in front of it, the karaoke machine, special lights built into the ceiling. It smelled vaguely of alcohol and stuff he’d rather not think about, all coated over by high class cleaning supplies. He flipped on the lights over the platform, not bothering with the lights in the rest of the room. With a smooth, absentminded move he slid the strap of his guitar over his shoulder and stepped onto the platform. But... y’know... he thought, looking at the book of songs on the stand next to him. One song wouldn’t hurt. And there’d been one dancing around in the back of his head ever since he’d confessed to Xiu. He flipped through the book, finding the song, and typing it into the machine. Soon his raspy voice was belting out I Could Have Lied. But all that managed to do was depress him, he thought with bitter amusement as the last strains lingered in the air. He turned off the machine. The room seemed even more silent with it off, eerie and lonely. He turned his focus on his guitar, tuning it slowly, methodically. When he was finished he pulled out his eye phone and typed in the time limit, setting it to go off fifteen minutes before he was supposed to leave, then placed it on the podium. “Okay,” he said, taking a deep breath and spreading his feet slightly. His hands were on his guitar, ready to play, but he just stood like that for a moment, closing his eyes as he tried to concentrate his FEAR into the tips of his fingers. His fingers touched the strings, not playing yet, but a vibrant hum filled the room, almost vibrating his body. It was a strange sensation, he thought, fighting to keep from pulling back, from moving his fingers just yet. His muscles tensed. His entire body tensed. He played the chord, forcing his FEAR into the strings and-- Promptly gagged. He fell to his knees and let the guitar disappear as he grabbed the sleek looking black trashcan by the couch, gagging and dry heaving, unable to throw up, but wishing he could. A fine sheen of sweat covered his clammy skin, and his insides twisted and turned, threatening to do things he was positive they shouldn’t do. He was panting by the time the dry heaving stopped. The sound of his blood pounded in his ears, muffled but so loud that it hurt his head. Slowly Roch straightened, wiping the back of his forearm across his mouth. He shouldn’t have shoved the FEAR, he thought as he unsteadily got to his feet. For a second he swayed, his eyesight blurring, the lights over the platform threatening to blind him. It brought back memories of the first time Fang had hit him for real. No, it hadn’t been a hit, he thought almost light-headedly, it had been the time the were had clapped both hands hard over Roch’s ears. Now that he was older he swore the b*****d had used a tiny bit of FEAR in that hit. No, Roch thought. Focus. Slowly he reached up, making a summoning fist. The FEAR took a few seconds longer than he was used to to form, but he ignored that fact. He needed to feed the FEAR into the strings, slowly, gingerly. And jackdammit, he wasn’t supposed to be affected! Something more than just forcing the FEAR was wrong. Maybe if he used a minor chord. He braced himself, bending his knees ever so slightly and holding his guitar once again. His finger position changed, and gingerly, ever so gingerly, he barely fed his FEAR into the chord, playing it-- And absolutely nothing happened. “Jackdammit!” he snarled, wanting to break something with his guitar. “Either it’s too much or not enough! This is like tryin’ to play bass and acoustic on the same jackin’ guitar!” But... he DID play bass and acoustic on the same guitar, he thought. Not at the same time, but... This was going to take a while, he thought as he sat down on the couch to try again. With a slight scowl he reached over, pulling the trash can closer. Just in case. The hour passed. His phone went off, but the boil didn’t even hear it. His entire body was covered with sweat, pale and trembling slightly. The door opened, but he didn’t realize it. He was too busy dry heaving over the trashcan again. “Your time is up,” the demon said with disgust clear in his voice. “I would thank you to leave, and never come back again.” Roch nodded, forcing himself to his feet slowly. He barely heard the demon, and didn’t care what he was saying. It was only habit that had him grabbing his phone from the podium and slipping it into his open vest before he stumbled out of the room. But... he had gotten it to work. Three times. That was downright pathetic, but it was still improvement, right? “The neighbors were complaining about feeling sick to their stomachs,” the demon snapped as he followed the reaper boil to the door. “What were you doing in there?” “You said... those booths... were soundproof,” Roch said, trying to concentrate. “They are soundproof!!” the demon protested a bit too quickly. Roch looked at him with narrow silver eyes. “You’re lying.” “They are soundproof enough!” “Not for me,” Roch said coldly. “I should demand my money back,” he added, but he couldn’t. He didn’t have enough energy left for a fight over silver seeds. It would take all he had just to make it back to school. “Forget it,” he said, walking out the door. Word Count: 1,475
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Posted: Thu Sep 08, 2011 12:54 pm
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Posted: Sat Sep 17, 2011 9:01 am
Phone Home The eyephone rang in his ear, making its usual guttural, disturbing sounds as it told him it was waiting for the other end to be picked up. Roch stared at the clock impatiently, wondering if Bones was even awake yet. Sure it was noon, but Bones didn’t keep usual hours, or at least he didn’t seem to now that Roch was gone. “What?” the familiar voice demanded gruffly, signaling that Bones hadn’t been awake until just now. “Hey,” Roch said. “Reaper boil, where do you get off callin’ me at this time of the day?” the old skeleton demanded, although the anger in his voice was gone, replaced by irritation. “Don’t you know these old bones of mine need their rest?” “It’s noon, Bones. You’re probably passed out in the gutter again, aren’t you?” Roch drawled. “I can hear Mrs. Wheedle shouting at the sales guy on the corner. What did he do, try to sell her something fresh?” “What do I care about who sells what to that woman?” Bones demanded. “What do you want, Roch? I ain’t got the seeds to come and see you, not that I want to! That ugly mug--“ “Hey, hey, I never said you had to come out here,” Roch protested. “It’s too jackin’ long of a train ride for anyone that’d just be goin’ right back home again. I just... wanted to hear your voice,” he muttered, red creeping up the back of his neck as he admitted something that embarrassing. “Is that the reaper boil?” someone demanded on the other end. “Tell him he’d better come back for his next vacation, you hear! This place ain’t the same without him!” “Hey, hey, ask him if he’s got a ghoulfriend yet!” another called out. It was easy to hear the rest of the world when talking to an empty skull, Roch thought with a little laugh. “Would you shut up already? I’m havin’ a talk with my student!” Bones bellowed, making Roch wince and pull the eyephone away from his ear for a bit. “Tell him Fang got caught by the boogies again!” someone else shouted. “Fang got caught?” Roch asked, a bit shocked. “Jackdammit, I told him to watch his a** while I was gone! When’s he get out?” “Don’t worry about that monster, boil, you got more important things to do,” Bones said sharply. “You better be learnin’ somethin’ important while you’re there!” “Yeah,” Roch said quietly, feeling his head start to pound. “I tried,” he whispered. “But Bones, man, I don’t think I’m suited for this s**t! I keep gettin’ sick every time I try and practice, and--and maybe I really am just a jackdamn punk off the street with no abilities whatsoever.” “Who the hell said that to you?” Bones demanded. “Woman, get that stupid fake hair out of my face--“ “Let me talk to the boil,” Old Mrs Wheedle demanded loudly. There were thumping sounds, signifying that they were fighting over the phone, then Roch heard her talking to him. “You get sick, huh?” “Yeah, Mrs. Wheedle,” Roch said. “I think my FEAR is backlashing or--“ “That could be, but it also could be you’re not used to usin’ it like you should,” she said bluntly. “How often do you use that FEAR of yours for anythin’ other than summoning your guitar? You could easily get sick just from that! You keep that practicing up or you’ll never get to where you can use it right. Then what are you gonna shove in your old man’s face?” “But--“ “You just ain’t used to usin’ your FEAR,” she said again. “Basically you’re a p***y.” “Old woman!” Bones barked. “Mrs. Wheedle!” Roch yelped. “You start practicing, you hear me? Backlash or not, I ain’t gonna claim no p***y came from my neighborhood, even if they ARE a reaper!” she told him. “And make sure you cover up when you’re sleepin, you always did wear too little clothes. And you’ve been eatin’ regularly, right?” She’d just called him a p***y, then started mothering him, Roch thought blankly. “Yes, Mrs. Wheedle.” “Not too much, though,” she went on. “And you need to call more often, boil! We ain’t heard from you in months! And send us pictures when you get a ghoulfriend, we wanna see!” “Yes, Mrs. Wheedle,” he drawled, shaking his head with amusement. “Don’t you use that tone with me, boil! Say it properly!” “Yes, Mrs. Wheedle!” he repeated quickly. “That’s better.” “Old Woman, give me back my phone! I wasn’t done talking to the boil,” Bones demanded. His voice was louder when he said, “Your old man’s been around town more often,” he said. “Word has it that something’s changed, but you didn’t hear that from me.” “Something’s changed?” Roch repeated blankly. “Like what?” “If we knew we wouldn’t be usin’ the word ‘something,’” the skeleton said irritably. “You been practicing your scales?” “My scales?” Roch repeated, choking. “I’ve been practicing, sure, but I haven’t done scales in years!” “You should never forget to practice your scales. Those’re the basis of all music, you know.” “Yeah, I’ll do some scales,” Roch said, a little grin pulling at his lips. “Jack I miss you guys. Hey, call me when Fang gets out of the pokey.” “Heh, he’ll go right back in before we can dial the number!” Bones said. “Don’t worry about him, you just keep your studying up and watch your back!” “Always,” Roch said.
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Posted: Sat Sep 17, 2011 9:11 am
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Posted: Tue Oct 04, 2011 7:06 pm
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Posted: Sun Nov 06, 2011 1:04 pm
Both Lost and Gained Roch stepped into his shower, turning the water on and gritting his teeth as his various cuts screamed out with pain--but it wasn’t until he turned to wash his back that he actually gave voice to his pain. The bellow was loud, but cut off quickly as he gritted his teeth and let the water rush over the large welt on his back. Why it remained after he’d dissipated, he wasn’t sure. Maybe it was because it’d been a FEAR attack. The whip had bit deeply into his skin. He wouldn’t be sleeping on his back for a while. But it would heal, just like the rest of the cuts. He went to work washing his hair, watching with a bit of amusement as the red dye just rinsed away with the water, mixing with his blood. He’d gotten the wrong type, the punk realized. The non permanent coloring hadn’t lasted in the human world at all. But--his purple was gone, too. Somehow, though, being blonde didn’t seem to mean as much to him anymore. He would fix it in the morning, he thought as he dried off gently. He’d go back to purple, he decided. He liked the purple better. It... would remind him less of what had happened earlier. With that decision made he stepped out of the bathroom, digging through his few clothes and pulling out a pair of cotton sleep pants. He headed for his bed, lounging as tentatively as he could without hurting. Riff fluttered to his side, landing on his shoulder and nuzzling against his neck lovingly. “Hi, screechheart,” he said quietly. He swore she even kissed him. A little smile pulled at his lips as Clef climbed into his lap, curling into a ball without a sound, his fluffy tail flicking back and forth once before he fell asleep. Jackdammit was nowhere to be found. Not that Roch bothered to look for the cat. He didn’t want to see him at the moment, anyway. This was the first moment he’d been alone. He figured he probably should be thinking about what had happened in the human world--he should be trying to figure out how he could deal with it better next time--but no. His mind shied away from it, skittishly avoiding serious thoughts, avoiding remembering all the suffering he had seen, but been unable to do anything about. He’d lost a lot in one night--his life, his trust in his own capabilities, Xiu, his position as the music guy in the school. Had he gained anything? Hatred. Memories that he could never forget. The knowledge that Halloweeners really could die. The knowledge that there were humans out there that wanted them all dead. Why... why were they pushing kids into fighting those guys? Why hadn’t it been the boogies in there? He reached up, ignoring how it stretched his dry, cut up skin, and ran a hand over his face. He could understand sending a guy like him in. He really could. He was a useless b*****d that no one would really miss, or worry about dying, or anything. Those that would, well, they were all as poor and as criminal as himself. They wouldn’t be heard even if they did bother to complain. But why were they sending in the uppercrust kids? Kids like Xiu, he bet her parents were rich and influential. Or guys like Barth and West and all those other demon guys that had to be in line for really high positions in their family businesses or something? No... if word got out that those kids were facing off against killers, wouldn’t they shut the school down? This wasn’t even the first field trip like this. He’d been told several times that they died the last trip. So... why hadn’t the parents found out? Or did they know and just not care? It’s not like they stayed dead... Hadn’t his room been bigger? Roch sat up, making Clef give him a dirty look before the solar flare jumped off of his lap. Something had changed in his room while he’d been gone. There, he thought as he stood. The wall looked exactly like the wall next to it, which explained why he hadn’t noticed it when walking in, but that was a door. He got out of his bed, Riff clinging to his neck, and headed for the small room that had been built in the corner of his dorm. The door looked thick, the handle large and metal, which he twisted slowly, pulling back on it. The light came on. Inside the small room was a couch, a stage, and a karaoke machine. It was a miniature sound proof booth, he thought blankly. Who the hell would install an entire sound proof booth in his room-- Riley? She was rich, right? She was the only one that he could think of that would care to do something like this for a punk like him. He had done her a favor, after all. But... he shook his head. He would never understand demons, he thought with reluctant amusement. All he knew was that this would help him with his training. So basically she owned his guitar for the rest of high school, he figured. That was fine. He had almost expected it when he met her. Roch stepped into the red and silver room, heading for the black leather couch and dropping down on it. It was comfortable. It smelled new. He’d never had a couch that smelled new before, one that didn’t have grooves in the seats already. He kicked his feet up on the couch, laying his head on the arm rest so the welt didn’t have much weight on it. And he fell asleep. Staying awake for over 24 hours was a bit too much, even for him. And if he couldn’t control his dreams again... well this time there was no nosy little baku to get dragged into it.
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Posted: Mon Nov 07, 2011 4:17 pm
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Posted: Sun Nov 13, 2011 1:04 pm
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Posted: Thu Nov 17, 2011 2:12 pm
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Posted: Tue Nov 29, 2011 11:28 am
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Posted: Sat Dec 10, 2011 8:58 am
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Posted: Tue Dec 13, 2011 6:32 pm
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Posted: Wed Dec 14, 2011 9:18 am
Well and Truly Jacked He’d been staring down at the emblem in his hand for a good five minutes. It was something he had wanted, earlier, he wasn’t going to lie, but now that he had it... Roch let out a sigh, running a hand over his face and wondering how he was supposed to put it. This meant she would take responsibility for his actions--that she had his back. He didn’t WANT her to have his back like that. In fact, jackdammit, he should have never accepted the other emblems that he had. Nobody needed that, and he, of all people should have known that best. What the hell had he been thinking? Should he give it back? Logic told him yes, he definitely should. Maybe sneak it into her room--if he knew where she kept others (if she even had some on hand) he could slip it back in with those and she might not even notice. But he seriously doubted that was the case. And even he got the fact that to turn down an offered emblem was like... seriously rejecting the person offering it. Roch was trapped. So he was staring at the emblem, his mind turning in circles. Well... he could give it to that Vaith guy, right? He doubted--no, hell, he didn’t know the guy, who was he to tell what he would do if given his ghoulfriend’s pin by some other guy? A fight? Not that Roch minded fighting, hell, he seemed to get into a new one every week or so, but that was just retarded. “Here’s your ghoulfriend’s pin, back, don’t want it, can’t give it to her” and “What the JACK are you doing with her pin in the first place?” Besides? He didn’t really want to deal with the guy. Even to Roch that sounded like an a*****e-ish thought, but he wasn’t going to lie to himself. If he saw the guy, he’d turn and walk the other way, never glancing back. This wasn’t like Sparrow had been (which was another topic entirely) and it wasn’t like Herryk was (because he was plotting how he would beat the big b*****d now that he was Y2 even as he stood there) or even Johnny Danger (because there was something entertaining about starting a war with a famous guy. He really needed to hunt that guy down again sometime...) Nope, he had nothing against Vaith. He just didn’t want to deal with Xiu’s boilfriend. Not when he still felt a bit raw about the whole jackin’ thing. All he’d WANTED was some cupcakes and to walk away, okay?? He scowled. Maybe if he hid it somewhere. Somewhere people would never think to look. And then, he decided, he’d forget that he had it--never mention it to a soul. Maybe he should bury it somewhere under a tree in the middle of the forest, since nobody would know that it was supposed to be his even if they did find it. So if he DID get in trouble, and dragged off to juvie, Xiu would have nothing to do with it, regardless of what she might say. Hell, while he was at it, he should hide the others, too. He wasn’t about to drag Charlie down with him. Not his goofball bro. And even the professor didn’t deserve all the crap he’d done in the past, and all the crap he was sure could happen in the future. But what if someone dug the box up? Someone that didn’t feel as obligated as he did to protect them? He wasn’t sure what all you could do with these things, but he got the feeling it could be dangerous in the wrong hands. Sort of like if someone had his guitar. Hell, DANNY touching his guitar creeped him out, and she was his best friend! He closed his hand over the pin, a dark expression on his face. Why the hell had she given it to him? Now he had all this thinking to do, and Roch wasn’t that great at deep thinking! It just tended to get deeper and deeper until he was RIGHT back in the bottom of the well where all the problems (in his mind) had started to begin with! In other words, well and truly JACKED. He headed for the kitchen, digging the other two pins that he had out of his pocket and going to one of the cabinets that he never used. Glasses and plates were pulled out, set on the counter as he dug to the very back. There a little teapot (shoddy, never used, it had come with the room, actually) sat, looking a bit foreboding. He grabbed it, peeked inside, and when he was certain it was empty, dropped all three pins into it before shoving it to the back and replacing the other dishes. That wouldn’t solve the problem. He knew it even as he closed the cabinet door. It just made him think more about what had happened with Xiu. Had he loved her? Honestly? He didn’t know, but a huge part of him was telling him that it had been mostly vulnerability. He’d mistaken his vulnerability to the ghoul for love, and like a moron, chased her around, making her uncomfortable and him crazy. There was nothing he could do to change the fact that she knew stuff he didn’t want many others to know. And it DID suck he didn’t have some kind of hold over her that would keep her from telling, but-- Well, it was too late to worry about that now. Hell, he’d given Rikki a taste of what he’d grown up with (both figuratively and literally) and the other guy hadn’t even blinked. Maybe what SHE knew didn’t matter, because some of his best friends had figured it out on their own--and Mot, (Jack love the guy, Roch sure did,) but he was too dense to realize it even when Roch DID tell him. So what did he do about this situation? How could he keep his other pals from giving him their emblems? From vowing the same loyalty to him that he willingly gave to them? He could stop giving his own out, for one. And he swore he would, now. And not get so close to new people. Hell, he shouldn’t even get that close to the old friends, he thought, a bit disgusted with himself. ESPECIALLY the ghouls. But... what about Chuppi? He couldn’t just skip out on his little sister because he was a jerk with a past! She needed him! And Taryn! Didn’t she need him too? Just a little? Maybe she would think she was fine without him, but the ghoul definitely needed more goofing off in her life. And Danny! Even if she WAS dating Rikki (and he still felt awkward talking/dealing with ghouls that were taken) she was still his best friend. And Amrita! His fish buddy! And Tahki had been a hell of a lot of fun to goof off with! The challenge thing was entertaining! And Lark--well, sure, her best friend was here now, but-- Jackdammit, he didn’t WANT to stop playing with his pals. But he... Well, maybe if he just flat out announced he wouldn’t be accepting any more pins/emblems/whatever you wanna call them, or something. Maybe. But then he’d have to explain why, and all the idiots in this school would probably think he was paranoid (which he was, even AFTER that chat with the boogey that fixed his FEAR.) No, he would wind up taking what was given and hiding it away, until the FEAR levels got to the point it was noticeable and... Jackdammit, what was a guy supposed to do?? Word count: 1,293
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Posted: Mon Dec 19, 2011 7:46 am
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