Post by Flutter (Frosty) on Jul 25, 2011 7:39:28 GMT -5
Despite what it looks like, I, Ashley, swear to God Above that I am not high while writing this. I’m sort of in a film noire mood and my newest character, Blitzern, isn’t helping. At all. But, you know how I buck tradition ;D oh and I feel like I’m going to hell for writing this, but older members will appreciate it. XD This isn’t intrinsic to a plot or anything- more like THBC/Groupies! fan fiction. I’m trying this to break out of my comfort zone of contemporary suspense, so we’ll see how it goes! If this works out well, if you’d like, you, too, can have your character interviewed by Blitzern the Deep-Cover Peophin. XD As this is in the Character Corner, please have your *characters* respond to it, not you. XD
The day had been long, longer than usual, it seemed, and it wasn’t getting any easier. No, in fact, it was getting longer and longer as the sun went down, and the mare in my office wasn’t going to lighten my load, so to speak.
“You say you’ve always been a kind, gentle leader of the Groupies, eh, doll?” I asked, my voice filling the air like the morning train.
“Yeah. That’s… not what I’m here for,” she started to say, but I had to cut her short. Her own words carried on the buffeting air from the ceiling fan like a melody in the breeze, and falling for that sassy flair wasn’t going to do me any good, I could tell. I watched as she shifted uncomfortably in her seat, and I could tell that while the mare was a thrill-seeker, she wasn’t particularly thrilled to be seated on the cold, hard slab of steel I’d stolen for use as a chair.
“Again, lady, always?” I raised the question as I moved a folder- or something, it was dark- to make a lot of intimidating noise. It worked.
“Alright, there were some times where I could have acted better, but not once has someone said I should be impeached, at least.” She sounded like she actually believed it, but she didn’t have me fooled for a minute.
“Your file here says you once broke into Dark Kishou’s wine cellar and drank every last drop. In two hours. Vintage wines here, an entire collection.”
“It was NOT two hours. I have no idea where you’re getting your information from,” she shot at me, obviously offended. She was right; I’d misspoken.
“Sorry. Two minutes. Wait… you went through an entire cellar of vintage Port in two minutes?” The mare was an enigma.
“I was mad.” She shrugged, her mane cascading over her neck in such a way that it fell into her face. “We made up, though.” I realised at that moment that there was the distinct possibility that she’d attempted to kill him. She stared in my general direction. “With a baby.” I found myself grateful that she didn’t include the dirty bits, and just by looking at her I could tell she had a few stories about how to make up with someone… with a baby. Wait, that doesn’t even sound right.
“How-”
“We had sex a lot. I was really trying to keep this rating at PG, but there you go.”
“Oh.” I forced myself to gather my thoughts for a moment while I tried to process this information. “So you mean you used your body to make up for the fact that you drank- possibly- millions of dollars of wine.”
“If you even think about calling me a prostitute…” Her gaze was threatening and her voice cool- I liked that about her.
“Why would you think I’d call you such a libelous word, doll face?”
“You’re pushing it.”
“You’re pushing it way off topic here. Alright, so you made up on… that case. Calling your former husband fat?” I leaned in, egging her on. This mare had to be made of weaker stuff than I’d been lead to believe.
“I… never called him fat, that was all Ashley and Rachel.” She looked madder than when I’d dragged her in here for the interview. “Besides, why would I hurt his feelings like that?” Digging the dagger even deeper- wait. This wasn’t working at all like I’d planned. She was actually seeming like a calm, level-headed leader at this point.
I was going to have to use the big guns- the ones everyone told me to stay the hell away from. Every leader has the one moment in their tenure that they would rather forget, and by researching years and years of the Stalking Ground’s posts, I had finally figured out how to get this mare’s goat, and get it good.
“Beautyle is a red Peophin-”
“Keep going, I dare you.” I heard her get up, but continued the monologue that had haunted the Ess Gee for far too long.
“She has three sets of wings-”
“I’m going to cause you great harm.”
“One set of uni wings and two sets of faerie wings-”
“I AM GOING TO FUCKING CUT YOU.” I noted that she looked like she might actually be serious, with the way she was frothing at the mouth and all that.
“She is plain and beautiful at the same time and five people want to be with her at once-”
“Dude, that’s the plot to Twilight. You’ve totally crossed the freaking line now.”
And I realised I had. I began weeping, weeping like a little girl in front of this mare who had threatened to cut me if I continued with the diatribe, because I had gone past finding the truth of whether the mare was fit to lead or not and managed to shit all over literature at the same time. “I didn’t mean to drop that chain saw on that girl, I swear-”
“Walking on freaking hot coals, dude- you’re trying to integrate American Psycho with Twilight, and that just doesn’t jibe real well with me.”
“IS THERE NO ORIGINALITY LEFT IN THIS WORLD?!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, which I’m pretty sure had the mare scared. “STELLA! STELLA!”
“SHUT THE HELL UP. RIGHT NOW. You obviously don’t understand pop culture, or what used to be pop culture- or what pop culture ever was because… hell if I know, you’re just a horrible creature!” she must have mumbled it, because I didn’t hear her all that well. Wrong genre?
“WILSON! WILSOOOONNN!”
“I’m getting the hell out of here. And calling Mognia, you need to be locked the fuck up. Or removed. Forcibly. In pieces. You are the most pathetic excuse for a private detective/undercover agent/whatever the hell you are because I CAN’T FREAKING SEE YOU TO HAVE EVER EXISTED.” I watched as she sashayed her way out of the room in that haughty, death-rays-out-of-the-back-of-her-head way. I grinned, because I knew I had gotten exactly what I needed.
Rayneance, your head Groupie, cannot handle the stress of dealing with the clinically insane. Or something. I kind of lost it up there. Teddy bears?
…That’s what that whole thing over the phone was about? You wanted to see how pissed I’d get… dude you were just being creepy. I would not threaten to “cut” someone over Beautyle. I have better ways of dealing with that crap.
How’d this get past the crazy filter? O.o Just sayin‘. And no, Mom would probably do something like… I dunno, laugh really hard when she noticed Ashley twitches when she re-reads old RP‘s. I know I do.
Blitz:It’s called artistic license… I think. Either way, it kept you reading!
Nyct: Only because my mind can’t comprehend what the hell I just read.
The day had been long, longer than usual, it seemed, and it wasn’t getting any easier. No, in fact, it was getting longer and longer as the sun went down, and the mare in my office wasn’t going to lighten my load, so to speak.
“You say you’ve always been a kind, gentle leader of the Groupies, eh, doll?” I asked, my voice filling the air like the morning train.
“Yeah. That’s… not what I’m here for,” she started to say, but I had to cut her short. Her own words carried on the buffeting air from the ceiling fan like a melody in the breeze, and falling for that sassy flair wasn’t going to do me any good, I could tell. I watched as she shifted uncomfortably in her seat, and I could tell that while the mare was a thrill-seeker, she wasn’t particularly thrilled to be seated on the cold, hard slab of steel I’d stolen for use as a chair.
“Again, lady, always?” I raised the question as I moved a folder- or something, it was dark- to make a lot of intimidating noise. It worked.
“Alright, there were some times where I could have acted better, but not once has someone said I should be impeached, at least.” She sounded like she actually believed it, but she didn’t have me fooled for a minute.
“Your file here says you once broke into Dark Kishou’s wine cellar and drank every last drop. In two hours. Vintage wines here, an entire collection.”
“It was NOT two hours. I have no idea where you’re getting your information from,” she shot at me, obviously offended. She was right; I’d misspoken.
“Sorry. Two minutes. Wait… you went through an entire cellar of vintage Port in two minutes?” The mare was an enigma.
“I was mad.” She shrugged, her mane cascading over her neck in such a way that it fell into her face. “We made up, though.” I realised at that moment that there was the distinct possibility that she’d attempted to kill him. She stared in my general direction. “With a baby.” I found myself grateful that she didn’t include the dirty bits, and just by looking at her I could tell she had a few stories about how to make up with someone… with a baby. Wait, that doesn’t even sound right.
“How-”
“We had sex a lot. I was really trying to keep this rating at PG, but there you go.”
“Oh.” I forced myself to gather my thoughts for a moment while I tried to process this information. “So you mean you used your body to make up for the fact that you drank- possibly- millions of dollars of wine.”
“If you even think about calling me a prostitute…” Her gaze was threatening and her voice cool- I liked that about her.
“Why would you think I’d call you such a libelous word, doll face?”
“You’re pushing it.”
“You’re pushing it way off topic here. Alright, so you made up on… that case. Calling your former husband fat?” I leaned in, egging her on. This mare had to be made of weaker stuff than I’d been lead to believe.
“I… never called him fat, that was all Ashley and Rachel.” She looked madder than when I’d dragged her in here for the interview. “Besides, why would I hurt his feelings like that?” Digging the dagger even deeper- wait. This wasn’t working at all like I’d planned. She was actually seeming like a calm, level-headed leader at this point.
I was going to have to use the big guns- the ones everyone told me to stay the hell away from. Every leader has the one moment in their tenure that they would rather forget, and by researching years and years of the Stalking Ground’s posts, I had finally figured out how to get this mare’s goat, and get it good.
“Beautyle is a red Peophin-”
“Keep going, I dare you.” I heard her get up, but continued the monologue that had haunted the Ess Gee for far too long.
“She has three sets of wings-”
“I’m going to cause you great harm.”
“One set of uni wings and two sets of faerie wings-”
“I AM GOING TO FUCKING CUT YOU.” I noted that she looked like she might actually be serious, with the way she was frothing at the mouth and all that.
“She is plain and beautiful at the same time and five people want to be with her at once-”
“Dude, that’s the plot to Twilight. You’ve totally crossed the freaking line now.”
And I realised I had. I began weeping, weeping like a little girl in front of this mare who had threatened to cut me if I continued with the diatribe, because I had gone past finding the truth of whether the mare was fit to lead or not and managed to shit all over literature at the same time. “I didn’t mean to drop that chain saw on that girl, I swear-”
“Walking on freaking hot coals, dude- you’re trying to integrate American Psycho with Twilight, and that just doesn’t jibe real well with me.”
“IS THERE NO ORIGINALITY LEFT IN THIS WORLD?!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, which I’m pretty sure had the mare scared. “STELLA! STELLA!”
“SHUT THE HELL UP. RIGHT NOW. You obviously don’t understand pop culture, or what used to be pop culture- or what pop culture ever was because… hell if I know, you’re just a horrible creature!” she must have mumbled it, because I didn’t hear her all that well. Wrong genre?
“WILSON! WILSOOOONNN!”
“I’m getting the hell out of here. And calling Mognia, you need to be locked the fuck up. Or removed. Forcibly. In pieces. You are the most pathetic excuse for a private detective/undercover agent/whatever the hell you are because I CAN’T FREAKING SEE YOU TO HAVE EVER EXISTED.” I watched as she sashayed her way out of the room in that haughty, death-rays-out-of-the-back-of-her-head way. I grinned, because I knew I had gotten exactly what I needed.
Rayneance, your head Groupie, cannot handle the stress of dealing with the clinically insane. Or something. I kind of lost it up there. Teddy bears?
…That’s what that whole thing over the phone was about? You wanted to see how pissed I’d get… dude you were just being creepy. I would not threaten to “cut” someone over Beautyle. I have better ways of dealing with that crap.
How’d this get past the crazy filter? O.o Just sayin‘. And no, Mom would probably do something like… I dunno, laugh really hard when she noticed Ashley twitches when she re-reads old RP‘s. I know I do.
Blitz:It’s called artistic license… I think. Either way, it kept you reading!
Nyct: Only because my mind can’t comprehend what the hell I just read.