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Little EriAnother quiet night, You had long stopped trolling Feferi and even though you knew nobody was online, something urged you to check.
You noted the name caligulasAquarium near the bottom and smirked- maybe a little late night Eridan torture would cheer you up- you were In one of your rather more sadistic moods- maybe bringing him down would help, everyone else said it always helped them after all.
twinArmageddons (tA) began trolling caligulasAquarium (cA)
cA: Hi, Im Ewidan- I'm 3 swweeps old!
tA: oh uh hii Eriidan, ii'm 2ollux- ii'm 6 2weep2 old.
cA: wwhoa, weally? That's weally cool
tA: yeah, ii gue22 iit ii2- but iif your only 3 2weep2 old why are you on the computer 2o late?
cA: Sollux, can I tell you a secwet? Wwill you promise not to tell anyone?
tA: 2ure, ii wont tell a 2iingle troll.
cA: wwell I wwas hopin someone might be online and maybe they wwould talk to m
Still Not Your GirlAN: Please read description before reading
You locate your girl as--...
You locate the girl as you warp into a new place. There is a volcano behind you and melting, steaming snow beneath you. The girl and someone else are holding lots of frogs.
You hate frogs.
You absolutely hate frogs, and seeing so many of them almost sends you into a psychotic rage. It only doesn't send you into said rage because you were psychotic to begin with.
With a simple movement of your wings, you soar down to the ground, snarling like the Devilbeast you are as you land with a slight crunch in the snow.
You aren't sure where the term Devilbeast came from, but it is quite apt, so you decide to allow it to remain in your mind.
There are far too many frogs around your girl. There is also a stranger near her.
Near the girl. The.
Both the frogs and the stranger are highly unacceptable, and you will dispatch of them.
Your girl and the stranger both draw weapons; she has a ma
Roommate: A Dave FanfictionYou enter the apartment area with mixed feelings.
You're sharing the place with another guy; who he is you don't even know. Your friend Jade said he'd pay for half of the rent cost though, and besides, he needs the interaction as much as you do.
Okay, she had mumbled that part. Probably you weren't supposed to hear it. You only asked about the part pertaining to you though.
She said that you were a little different from other people, but not too much, so you and Dave? would get along.
You didn't really see how you're that different. You'd just been through a lot of shit. Getting harassed by people because you didn't like the same things, had a bad childhood etc, etc.
Jade said it's important because you're accepting of people, and that's exactly what he needs! Well he doesn't really need it but it'd help him, she thinks.
You just shrugged, at the time. She has some mad intuition, and you're not gonna try your luck against that kind of crazy shit.
So you walk to the door of your ne
A Scarf For Her BirthdayAN: Please read description before reading
"Hey, Jade. Did you get my gift?"
"Yes, I did," Jade said into her cell phone with a smile. "It's sitting right here in front of me, waiting to be opened like... Like Karkat waits until he's calm to make a comment."
Dave's laughter was soft on the other end of the phone. "Like the shit waits to fly of the handle?"
"Like a Strider waits to drop a sicknasty beat."
"So, not waiting at all?"
Jade grinned. "My hands are on it right now. Woopsie, my finger slipped inside!"
"Jade, don't say that."
Dave sighed, the sound distorted by the phones. "Never mind. Go ahead; open it up."
"I am, I am," Jade said, holding her phone to her ear with her shoulder, opening the box carefully and slowly.
Dave was silent for a while, waiting. "So? What do you think?"
"I," Jade began and then swallowed. "I think I'm glad I already sent your present."
"Because," Jade murmured. "If I hadn't already sent it, I would change my mind right now and not
Circuit Breaker 1Chapter 1: The Note Isolation Plays
Jade Harley was not one to stay up late. This fact oftentimes baffled some of her friendsafter all, she lived alone on an island with her dog and didn't exactly have to get up and go to school. She didn't have any early morning obligations, really, aside from feeding Bec. The truth was that she had little to do late at night. Her friends lived in time zones much different than hers, so they were usually all asleep when it might only be a little late for her. It was better, in her opinion, to sleep when they were gone and wake up when they came back, even if it meant getting up at a time her friends might deem to be ridiculously early.
It was for that reason that she was startled when she glanced at the time and found that it was eight-o-clock. To her, that was exceptionally late, especially since she woke up at 2 to talk to John before he went to school. She'd only missed the time because she was talking to Dave. Her lunchtop's projectio
BittenThe night was awash with the sound of rain. It dripped through the trees, sliding down leaves and along branches, through the grooves of tree bark, only to fall upon the underbrush and, finally, the ground. A few raindrops found their perches on other thingsanimal fur, beading on the feathers of birds, and a select few collecting on a lone woman. Though she sat beneath a tree, eyes closed and head relaxed against the rough bark of a tree trunk, she was not completely out of the rain. It trailed down her pale cheeks like tears, dampening her dark hair and collecting in her ripped, dirty, bloody clothing. In spite of the cold and damp, she seemed to be at peace. She could almost forget the open wound on her leg.
It bled sluggishly still, with droplets of blood that mixed with the rain and dripped to the ground beneath her. The wound was a bite, and a bad one. The teeth marks were obvious, and they looked human. She hadn't bothered to wrap her leg, since it was already infected. Any
The Coffee GodThe Coffee God behind the counter shuffles foot to foot, a dance of steam and espresso. Black painted fingernails, inch gauged ears and a gray striped sweatshirt, hood crooked on his back. There's a cigarette tucked behind one ear; it bobs and twitches with each step.
“Non-fat caramel latte,” he calls, just as he always does, part of a spell, part of a mantra, toneless (just a tuck at the end). I reach. He looks up.
The espresso maker hisses.
There's something like a grin, something like a spark, something like a shared secret linked eye to eye. When he passes over the drink (rough cardboard sleeve hot to the touch), he lingers. Our fingers brush, a shiver, a jolt, a ten-watt shock.
The Coffee God tilts his chin, shouts, “Hey, mind if I take my break now?”
and ducks around the counter without waiting for a reply.
He slips his cigarette between his lips without taking his eyes from mine. I follow him out the door.
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