#jazz.ask

“I’m not good at apologies. I had a whole conversation with myself about how shitty that apology was. Well, not myself, I guess. It’s a long story. I’ve concluded that I should probably have a second go at an apology but at that point, isn’t the apology more for me than for him? So there’s no point. No use in bringing it up again.

There’s no use in making him relive that. I want to apologize for using my powers on him because I know they’re addictive and I’ve convinced myself that a significant portion of his hatred is the withdrawal he isn’t even aware of. I want to apologize for not using my powers sooner, for prolonging the pain beyond what it should’ve been. I wasn’t thinking like a person, i was thinking like a Fleet troll. And I should’ve been thinking like a person the whole time because he was never a criminal. I want to tell him I tried really hard to forget his face. That I got shitface wasted afterwards because I was horrified at my own actions. That I lied- I tried so hard to tell Twitch the most believable lie imaginable, I did everything I could to make her believe me to the point where I think she might’ve actually believed me but she still was trying to prove a point. I want to tell him I don’t do that shit anymore. I have a little medic wing. There’s an olive mechanic who kinda reminds me of him. I want to tell him about Daisee, about Palola and Merkii and Bertie and Faxaen and Calysa. I want to tell him he makes good soup. But none of that is for him. None of that would change what I’ve done. At this point that’s all more for me than for him but I’m not the one who suffered through all of that. I’m the one who got to leave that jail cell.

DID YOU KNOW BRUUNO'S KNOWN HIS MOIRAIL SINCE HE WAS A BABY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

bruuno was a fucking massive baby first off. he was huge. despite being twins he was a lot bigger than leo!!! imagine anguil to be an average sized grub. bruuno was massive. bru's hair was soooo fluffy and curly and chaotic that he couldnt see well and bumped into so much shit. Thats where Anguil came in :)

Bruuno had so many teeth and she made that literally everyone else's problem. had a horrible habit of eating inedible things like remotes, phones, rocks, bones, keys, coins....just. because. typically because it made anguil laugh.

Google Docs Link

The greying fuchsia untucks his shirt from his belt and pulls out a firearm, which in his hands looked quite small. But once handed to the much smaller limeblood, was revealed to be quite large. The panicked expression on his face said everything. He held it at arm's length, terrified. 

“JD, like we practiced.” His father’s gentle reminder seemed to ease some of that anxiety. Shaky hands turned the large pistol down the range. His hands barely fit on the grip. He struggled for a moment before finding the magazine release. Beloved’s hand on his shoulder stopped him. 

“Breathe. You’re overthinking it.” Beloved’s warm smile did successfully ease some of Jodiah’s nerves. Freshly teenaged and finally beginning to be out on his own, Jodiah’s lusus insisted he learn how to defend himself. Beloved never shielded Dia from how dangerous the world could be. Because of this, Dia agreed. The two had practiced at hive the proper ways of handling different weapons. Dia knew exactly what was going to happen, but the size of his father’s personal weapon startled him nonetheless. He looked back at Beloved with eyes the size of the moons. 

“It is bigger.” Beloved knew exactly what his concerns were, no words needed, “Remember when we talked about how they worked? It’s heavy because…” 

“...Because…it, uh…it takes the recoil.” 

“Mhm.” Beloved nodded. 

“...which makes it…easier. To hold.” Jodiah’s shoulders relaxed slightly, eyes turning back to the hard metal machine in his hands. 

“Exactly. Clever boy. What do you do now?” 

Silently, Jodiah tilted the firearm to the side. His hands weren’t shaky this time as he dropped the magazine. It fell unceremoniously on the table in front of him. His left hand held the slide while the right hand pushed down, sending the chambered bullet flying. 

“...You gave it to me loaded?” Dia looked back to his lusus, not startled as much as he was annoyed. 

“What good is a self defense weapon if it isn’t ready to defend?” Beloved chuckled. “You did the right thing. Now, reload.” 

Dia huffed, but his annoyance was better than anxiety. The magazine was slammed back into the grip, the slide racked and ready. The limeblood aimed down range before freezing again. 

Beloved waited a few seconds before leaning down, close to Jodiah’s ear, “Breathe. Close your eyes. Inhale,” Dia did just as he said, as he said it, “Exhale slowly… Find the wall. I’m right here.” Beloved set his hands on Dia’s shoulders, as if to prevent the recoil from blowing him backwards, “Pull the trigger.” 

The anxiety that threatened to bubble over was quelled by his father’s comforting presence. Jodiah exhaled slowly, eyes still shut. His father’s hands were warm and strong. He could do this. As his exhale finished, he pulled the trigger. 

The sound echoed off the walls, but the recoil wasn’t as bad as he anticipated. The limeblood opened his eyes and had to blink a few times to make sure he really did it. The paper target ten yards out had a sizable hole a good few inches to the left of center. Dia’s smile slowly grew as he turned to Beloved in excitement. 

“I did it!” 

“Ah- don’t go waving that around!” Beloved was quick to take the firearm from Dia’s hands, but his smile was still present, “You did! You did it! It wasn’t so bad, hm?” 

Sometime many many centuries ago….

There were a lot of sounds in Beloved’s hive, at any given moment. The washing machine, music from various speakers, cartoons on the television. He wasn’t home often these days and the silence always bothered him. But today, the hive was silent, as he packed two suitcases, preparing to leave for another work trip in space.

One was for himself. And one, much smaller, decorated in stars and stickers, for Staris. His little Supernova, now four sweeps old, who was…supposed to be helping him pack her suitcase. He instinctively tucked a small stuffed dog into her suitcase before rethinking that decision. Staris would probably want to hold Butter, she didn’t like space travel much. But maybe she wanted to keep Butter safe. Where was she?

Stuffed dog in hand, Beloved poked his head out of Staris’ block, glancing around. There was no sign of the little cerulean. Not in the living room, not stealing snacks from the kitchen. Not even in his own block, where she often curled up on his bed. He was about to panic, about to call out for her, when he passed his office. The slightly ajar door was concerning enough. But it was the sniffle that made him go in.

“Nova?” Beloved slowly opened the door, voice riddled with concern.

Staris sat in his oversized desk chair, holding a picture frame in her little hands. Tears flowed down her cheeks. She looked up at him, biting her lip in a clear sign of restraint.

Beloved closed the gap between them quickly, “Nova, my love, what’s wrong-?” His voice trailed off as she turned the picture frame around.

“Y-Y-You’re getting ol-old!” The child cried in clear distress. The picture was Beloved right after basic training. His fins were full and free of tears, hair cropped short and free of greys. No scars on his square face. And, of course, he did look quite young.

“My love..” Beloved took the picture frame and set it aside, then swept the little cerulean up into his arms. “It’s okay, Nova, getting old is a part of life! I’m growing up, just like you!”

This didn’t satisfy Staris in the slightest. She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tight, sputtering between sobs, “Y-You can’t g-g-get old!”

>Yes, and No.

>I am the amalgamation of a lonely child’s imagination run free, of a locked up traumatic past that refuses to open, of sleepless nights of terror, of countless sketchbooks burned and left behind. I am what lies in your brain just beyond what you can see. The voice of reason that sometimes goes astray. I am every story that was, that has been, that will be.

>I am a transuniversal deity running from my third broken past, since my creation. I’ve created everything here. I’ve created half of yours, too, you know.

>I am a runaway lab experiment. I am Ghost’s keeper. I am the missing link, the step mankind never should’ve made. I am my lover’s poison.

>I am a guardian against what goes bump in the night. An imaginary defender against horrible creations. Creations I made, so I could protect others from them.

>I am an orange cat, meant to be held in times of distress. I am a stuffed animal accidentally abandoned in another state.

>I am not real, but I am more real than anyone else on this platform.

>I was here first and I will be here last.