#*f: io

It took a lot of work to be an ass I am And I’m real damn sure that anyone can Easily, equally, fuck you over. 

character writing meme: parker fischer (indoolympians), as requested here.

[insert swearing words here] Here we go, folks. Buckle up.

inspired by starredsoul’s haiku: and yes, i love you / but will i ever find a / way to forgive you? 

happy (belated) birthday, parker. 

“You look worse than a goddamn corpse.”

Seriously. Parker was watching some ridiculously stupid soap opera, and this brother of his had to interrupt the fun of mocking the show by…well, the mere act of sitting beside him with that grave, grave face. Well, well, no surprise, after those rude comments, now Duckling made a face that was even graver than before, and Parker couldn’t help but to shake his head while giggling, a bit. And of course, he would have to add the oh-so-unneeded commentary, “Or an actual duckling corpse, for that matter.”

The reaction? Donald frowned. The green eyes of his brother might be staring starkly at him, but Parker supposed it was a stare for no one in particular anyway.

Well, well, Donald’s reaction was in no way fun. Donald can be such a bore and some too-uptight saint kind of guy. Yet Parker was not that stupid to realize that there was something fishy going on in his brother’s brain. Or heart. Well, whatever—but bottomline, Donald was disturbed like nothing else matter. And it had something to do with Worst-Mortal-Father-of-The-Year that is Andrew (…hence, no gods allowed, or else perhaps Dionysus might share the spot. Might.) Donald had just come home from the lunch-slash-bonding-time that the ass-gigantic-hole arranged. To celebrate Donald’s birthday, perhaps—or to ruin his brother’s birthday, judging from the solemn expression Donald wore so badly.

“I thought you’re supposed to watch the soap opera, not me.”  

Oh, for God’s sake. Donald’s flat reaction was in no way normal. It sounded forced. Parker was so used (to the point of being bored) to listen to Donald’s annoyed reaction. He knew the differences between the genuinely-annoyed Donald, the mockingly-annoyed Donald, and the forced-annoyed Donald. No need to trust him, but Parker was so sure that this fell under the category of “Donald acted as if Parker annoyed him but it was not the root problem.” Well, damn.

“Damn, Duckling.” He rolled his eyes. Really, Donald trying to hide his oh-so-called trouble was the last thing he needed in the world. “You know that if you keep looking like some rotten corpse like this, I’d have way more fun mocking you than the stupid soap opera.” Parker had to sigh, now. “Too bad you’re a real person, it would be less fun if you actually messed up.”

There was a silence. And then, Donald opened his mouth, to say nothing in particular. “You know, it’s not that important. And it is not your business.”

“Says the recovering alcoholic who looks like a corpse ready to be buried.” Parker was so annoyed by the act of hiding truth by Donald. No need for hide and seek, fuck. The last time Donald had troubles, his brother ended up messed up. Messed himself up…and also the living room by the vomits, obviously. It took all efforts to recover his usually-annoying brother to functional again. And he wouldn’t want his effort to go to waste. Never. No one, and especially not The-Worst-Mortal-Father-of-The-Year, would undo the efforts. “Donald—for God’s sake, if you need to punch Andrew, I’d like to lend you a hand. More than a hand, actually. Consider it a birthday gift, if you want to.” Well, although obviously Parker was not the kind who gave some birthday gifts.

Donald took a deep, deep breath.

“You’re not the kind who gives birthday gift,” and of course, Donald said something, was about to say something, “and it was not about me wanting to punch my own father.”

“Lame.”

“But my father did say sorry to me.” Donald said it so carefully. “He asked me to forgive him.”

It was so awkward, Parker couldn’t help but staring at Donald, mouth agape. Apparently Andrew could feel regret? What a plot twist. Andrew always struck him as someone who was so blind about his own fault. Awkward at the very worst. Worse, Donald didn’t even laugh at him. Or comment on how stupid Parker must look, which is something that Donald not-so-secretly took pleasure in.

“You know. It shocked me, too.” Donald’s voice finally broke the silence. And then Donald closed his mouth again, despite there was definitely something hidden, still.

Parker, obviously, watched Donald so closely, now. “So shocked that you’re having heart attack and then resurrected as some zom—“

“—I say that he has to ask you for forgiveness first.”

Again, again, another surprise. Well, at the very least now his mouth was not agape because of the sudden news, but still.  Parker thought that it was Donald’s birthday, but why Parker was the one who got all the surprises? What a joke.

“Shock me once again and I might consider this day to be my birthday.” Sigh. “And I’m so sure that asshole refused that.”

Donald sighed. There it was, a troubled face that could rival the most rotten corpse. “Well, you know my father.” Donald fiddled with his fingers. “He said that there was no use, asking you for forgiveness.”

“Well, Andrew has a point.” And obviously, Parker had to laugh. Oh, really. The hatred between them was so mutual that both he and Andrew consider it as a waste.  “There is no way I’m forgiving that asshole. And there is no way Andrew would like to beg for my forgiveness, anyway.” Another giggle, just for fun. “At least we have that in common.”

Donald’s expression? Worse than ever. “I know,” Donald said, softly, “but I want it.”  Damn, Donald can be very helpless, indeed. And stubborn. The combination was so deadly for disaster.

“Seriously.”  Parker had to shake his head. “Here was the funny thing: you could only forgive Andrew if he says sorry to me?”

“I told you, that was—“

“—what if Andrew begged for forgiveness and I say no? Would you still forgive him?” Well, let’s set politeness aside when it came towards a serious topic, shall he?

Donald sighed. “Well, as long as he asks you—I guess….”

“Why?” Again. No politeness needed. Parker knew he was pressuring Donald badly, but then, Donald’s troubled face kind of asking for it, anyway. “Because you feel terrible if you forgive him without my permission whatsoever? Or at least you want Andrew to notice me or something, so you would feel less guilty for forgiving that guy because he noticed me?” Oh, that would be so typical Duckling, seriously. “For fuck’s sake. You know I give exactly zero fucks you forgiving Andrew as long as I can keep hating him, right?”

And another sigh coming from Donald. A silence. And then, Donald’s words: “You’re wrong.”

Shrugs. “I’m wrong so many times.”

“…I just—I want him to take responsibility of all of the horrible things he did towards his family.” Donald sounded shaky. It was almost close to tears. Well, tears was better than wine, at the very least. “And that includes you.”

Well. Emotional was not Parker’s strong suit. At all. “Well, Andrew never considers me his fami—“

“…but I do.” Donald cut his words, so suddenly. “And my father’s wrong.” That was another awkward pause. “I know, that was some naïve idea, but I want us to be family. You two are the only thing I have left, so I wish that you two might get along—but….” Another pause to make both of them feel so uncomfortable. “…well. I guess, you know. I know that you don’t want to have anything to do with my father for good reasons.  I wish my father would realize the number he did on you, at the very least.” There were tears, God, and Parker was so stunned, alright? “At the very least….I want him to take responsibility….by saying sorry.”

Well, fuck.

“I don’t care you’re caring for Andrew, you know that.” What a garbage to say. Let’s just say Parker literally ran out of words to say.

Donald went silent, while trying to compose himself, once again. And then, after a very long silence. Donald opened his mouth, his eyes still wet:

“I know. Thank you.”

Unfortunately. It didn’t really change the fact that the show has ended.

chara: skylar montgomery/kara bennet setting: AU (dimana mereka berdua bukan demigod, terinspirasi ‘childhood sweethearts’ dari meme ini)

Yang gadis ini tunggu-tunggu setiap kali ia mengunjungi perpustakaan sekolahnya tiap pulang sekolah bukan hanya sekadar membaca berbagai jenis buku yang berderet rapi di rak perpustakaan, biarpun buku-buku tersebut selalu menarik perhatian bungsu Bennet kita. Gadis ini sesungguhnya juga menunggu seseorang di perpustakaan ini. Orang tersebut merupakan pemuda seumurannya, kata nyaris semua perempuan di sekolahnya cukup menarik penampilannya, biarpun untuknya, yang paling menarik dari pemuda itu bukanlah penampilannya.

Buatnya, percakapan merekalah yang membuat pemuda itu nampak begitu menarik di mata Kara.

Maka itulah, kali ini, begitu kakinya melangkah masuk menuju perpustakaan, matanya sibuk melirik kiri-kanan, mencari buku yang mungkin ia ingin pinjam sekaligus mencari sosok tersebut. Sementara tangannya mengambili buku yang ingin ia pinjam (The Lady With The Little Dogs and Other Stories, karya Anton Chekhov), matanya sibuk menelusuri perpustakaan, berharap ia menemukan sosok pemuda tersebut hari ini. Dia mengakui bahwa pencariannya ini agak konyol. Seharusnya Kara juga bisa menemukan sosok ini di kelas sang pemuda sedari tadi; kelas mereka bersebelahan. Hanya saja, di kepalanya, pemuda itu sudah ia asosiasikan dengan perpustakaan, maka itulah ia lebih suka menemui sang pemuda di perpustakaan.

Pemuda itu dimana?

Dia tak menemukan batang hidung sang pemuda sedari tadi. Lorong demi lorong sudah ia sisiri, namun tak kunjung ia menemukan pemuda tersebut. Ia tahu bahwa pemuda tersebut tidak absen—ia menemukan laki-laki tersebut di kelas sebelah. Setahunya, seharusnya pada jam pulang, pemuda ini juga akan berkunjung ke perpustakaan. Lantas, dimanakah sekarang pemuda tersebut?

Sejujurnya, ia sedang ingin mengobrol dengan laki-laki tersebut.

Ia masih mencari-cari sang pemuda begitu matanya mendadak ditutup dari belakang oleh telapak tangan seseorang. Mungkin seharusnya ia panik, tetapi bagaimana ia bisa panik jika ia yakin bahwa sosok yang sedang menutup matanya merupakan sosok yang ia cari-cari dari tadi?

“Oi, Kars,” suara sang pemuda menyapanya “Lagi cari apa?”

Kara cuma bisa menggelengkan kepala kecil sekarang. “Kamu bisa bikin orang sakit jantung, Skylar.”

Si pemuda terkekeh ringan mendengarnya. Tangan yang tadi menutup mata Kara kini tak lagi menutup matanya.  Kara sendiri sekarang berbalik badan agar ia bisa meghadap laki-laki itu. Di tangan si pemuda, telah terdapat buku yang baru saja Kara ambil dari rak buku. Kara baru saja hendak meminta si pemuda untuk mengembalikan buku, namun laki-laki tersebut sudah buka suara terlebih dahulu. “Kamu baca Chekov?” tanya si pemuda, santai.

Ya, ya, Kara tahu apa yang Skylar akan ucapkan sebentar lagi. Mereka sudah berdebat mengenai ini berulang kali. Ia menarik napas sejenak sebelum menjawab. “Iya. Silahkan bilang kalau Dostoevsky lebih menarik dan Chekhov sangat membosankan karena cuma membahas kehidupan sehari-hari, tapi, Skylar, aku akan mengulang bahwa bahasan Chekhov mengenai kehidupan sehari-hari terasa begitu nyata sehingga itu jauh lebih menarik. Dan kita bakal membahas ini sampai panjang dan penjaga perpustakaan bakal mengusir kita, kan?”

Pemuda tersebut memamerkan senyum jahilnya. “Yup. Mau bahas lagi?”

[#2/??—aftermath]

Let him ruin Duckling’s plan and all those rubbish efforts to keep him alive, shall he?

“You’re wasting your energy for someone who doesn’t care at all about staying alive, Duckling.”

Fucking hypocrite. Duckling kept trying to help Parker to make him live a bit longer for Duckling to feel better—and worse, Duckling thought those stupid attempts were favors for him, as if Parker ever asked for Donald’s help to make him live a bit longer. As if he even wanted to live long in the very first place, anyway. Well, obviously Parker was not a brainiac, but he was not that stupid that he couldn’t see that Donald wanted him to be alive for Donald’s own sake. If he didn’t appreciate his own dinner, he would have thrown up right in Duckling’s face.

Well, all blame was on Donald that he finally snatched the paper where Donald wrote his so-called-plan for his survival. All blame was on Donald that he finally tore the paper apart. It was almost funny to see Donald’s face when he tore the paper apart.  He couldn’t help but chuckle, of course—although he was not interested in trying not to chuckle anyway.

“It is for your own sake, Parker—damn.”  Donald’s quacking was just too nonsensical. Such a noise that he didn’t need to hear.  “You should have helped me, in fact. You’re now half-blind, for God’s sake, and you still have to see doctors, not to mention that the monsters are still chasing you, aren’t they? I want to help you.”

He only laughed when he listened to Donald’s words. He couldn’t take it seriously, obviously. “Goddamn, Duckling, you think you’re doing any good?” Well, he couldn’t even stop his laughter as he asked the question. It was just plain funny to see his stupid stepbrother tried so hard to do something useless. It was just ridiculous to see Duckling’s trying to pass his futile efforts as ‘trying to help Parker’, when both of them had known already what Duckling really wanted.

“Please. It’s for your own good. It’s for your own life.” Yeah, a desperate duck is all that Parker needed, really. “Tell me how to help you.”

“Why should I?”

Donald’s stupid request, huh?  Like he could care less about Duckling’s wishes—especially after that lie. Thinking that after he found out about Duckling’s fake drinking episode he would trust Duckling again, huh? Such a naïve thought.

“It’s for your own sake.” There was a stubborn look in Donald’s eyes. Obviously. “Can you stay alive, please—“

“—it’s more for your own sake, isn’t it, Duckling? You need me to be alive for your own selfish needs.”  He chuckled now. He was dead tired of this hypocrisy, of the lies, of Donald’s acting as that asshole actually cared about Parker while in fact Donald cared for his own sake.

“If you want to die, just jump out of the window already. You’re here, so I assume that you want to live. So—let’s plan so you can live longer. For me and for you”

There was an awkward silence for a while. Although obviously when they talked, it was not exactly a nice situation, either.

He was staring at the window, but damn, he could feel his stepbrother stared at him like he was a criminal that Donald needed to watch for….and what an annoying look it was, even more annoying than the quacking voices. And he thought that Duckling’s voice was annoying already.

“Fine. Let’s talk, Duckling,” he finally said, just for the sake of making Duckling stop disturbing him with that stare.

.

….if you can turn back the story… [hint: read it from the bottom to the top]

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[#1/??—aftermath]

It was a birthday—and Donald believed it was meant to be celebrated. Even if it was that person’s birthday, alright?

“Happy birthday,” say him to his stepbrother, smiling.

From his pocket, he produced a small box containing the gift for his stepbrother. He put the gift for his stepbrother on the table, wrapped in plain blue wrap paper. It was nothing special, obviously, as his annoying stepbrother rarely considered anything special, but he didn’t give the gift to satisfy his stepbrother as much as he wanted to satisfy himself. He needed to celebrate this birthday, even if the birthday man disapproved. He needed the happiness.

His stepbrother frowned as usual, although somehow he sensed a pang of melancholy there. Apparently, for his stepbrother, remembering the fact that he was born twenty-six years ago was “a pain in his ass”, to borrow his own stepbrother’s wording. Sometimes Donald felt that his stepbrother hated the fact that he was born in itself, and he had to admit that he couldn’t share the same opinion no matter how annoying his stepbrother could be. A long story, but let’s just assume that Donald was dead tired hating the only person he had now, and anyway, having his stepbrother could be a nice thing sometimes.

“You have lived one more year. Celebrate it,” he said trying to keep his optimism for both of them. “You live despite of the odds. Celebrate it.”

“You mean, I will die sooner or later.” His stepbrother had a grim grin in his face. “Good riddance.”

“God, just be happy,” commented him, “It’s your own birthday. It’s your time to be happy—and I want you to be happy, too.”

Well, as annoying as his stepbrother was, he felt bad for him. He truly did.

“Don’t try to be a fucking failure of cheerleader, Duckling.” His stepbrother smirked, and it pissed him off. “You’re totally not a good cheerleader. Nope—you’re a good cheerruiner.”

It was a frustrating case, having a childish debate on celebrating birthday. He supposed that their conversations were always stupid, childish debates, though. Even when his stepbrother tried to talk him out of drinking alcohol, they were having just the similar childish debate. Even when he tried to talk his stepbrother out of his intention to do a suicidal mission (which left his stepbrother one-eyed), it ended up in another childish debate. He was tired. They were already adults, technically. Somehow they made a progress, once, yet his lie erased it—almost completely.

“Don’t be your usual asshole.”

“You should have known better, don’t you?” This smirk in his stepbrother’s face was the smirk that would make everyone lose their patience. “I’m not that sunshine and love and all those bright shits—and totally what not everyone wants me to.”

“Can you just simply celebrate your own birthday?” It felt as if he was the one who was desperate, not his stepbrother. It felt that he was the one who was too desperate, who was trying too hard to make his stepbrother celebrate his own stepbrother’s birthday. Funny. “How hard is it?”

He cared for his stepbrother’s happiness. Perhaps he cared too much. Perhaps he should just disengage, perhaps his stepbrother hated his guts anyway, so his care would go to waste, but he couldn’t yet, so far.

“Mind your own business, Duckling. It is annoying, listening to you quacking.”

Damn. He knew he was supposed to care for him. He was supposed to keep trying to make his stepbrother happy. He was supposed to keep being optimistic for his stepbrother’s sake. He wanted to see his stepbrother happy again, so he had to try to make him a bit happier. It was something that he tried to do—with various rate of success.

Yet he couldn’t do it now.

He couldn’t stand how the atmosphere seemed to be too grim, too dark, almost too suffocating for him. It was supposed to be his stepbrother’s birthday, not someone funeral—again! He itched to leave the room, and he was about to do it. He was standing already.

“God. It’s your own birthday!” shouted him, finally, trying to break through this unbearable situation with force.

There were silence—unbearable silence—in the day when it was supposed to be filled with merry.

….if you can turn back the story… [hint: read it from the bottom to the top]

.

.

After all, it was Skylar who left her for his selfish wish to see the world alone. It was him who disappeared with almost no trace save his one photo he took in one of his too many destinations. There were little to no words from him, as if she was not supposed to know anything about him at all. Sometimes it seemed that he quietly swept her away from his life, despite the fact that she had seen him at his best and his worst as well, and she never rejected him, didn't she?

It felt like he rejected her in his life. She felt like she didn't belong in his life no more.

All she wanted was not for him to stay with her. She had always known that he was not the one who could stay still. She had accepted his wanderlust. His desire to wander was inseparable from him, and she loved him wholly. She knew he was never meant to stay. She knew he would have to go, to explore the unknown, and never did she think to try to put a stop on that. To take it away meant that she changed the person that she loved for whom he was, and she didn't wish to do that.

All she wanted was for her to be a part of his life.

And she didn't mean that they had to live together happily ever after, the way most romance story ended. Their demigod lives wouldn't allow that to happen in the first place, and she wasn't asking for romance, either. She only wanted to know him. She only wanted for him to tell her about his life. She only wanted for her to be there when he needed her, and she would love if he was there for her.

It seemed like a simple wish. 

And yet, she kept thinking that their distance was simply too far for her to take a part in his life.

It seemed to her that he went farther and farther, leaving her behind, alone and worried.

Is he fine? Where is he? Does he meet monsters? Is he lying on the floor somewhere, trying to get help only for no one to notice? Is he even still alive?

....those questions were lingering on her head, waiting to be answered, and there were no signs that indicated their waiting would finally end.

And she wished she could blame him.

But she couldn't.

Who said that he was supposed to tell her about his life? Who said that he had to make her the part of his life? Who said he had to be responsible for the ache in her heart? 

(No one.)

And if he decided that she was not meant to be in his life, she couldn't help but to respect his decision. Worse, she knew she couldn't help but to understand his decision.

It was his life that mattered at the end of the day.