Amet's writing corner.

fan fics, original stories, and poems, made by yours truly, @violet-amet. My Ao3 with many more stories. Nothing is beta read, all of it is first drafts. :p Anyhoo, thank you, have a nice day, and enjoy~. Picrew icon.

[a-trying-writer]

(ho-hu fic)

While brushing her hair, Cat looked at the clumps that lay in her palm. A short hum escaped from her before she tossed it into a bin.

"Is something the matter, my dear housemate?" Maison inquired, as he used his lure to communicate with her.

"I found a gray hair," she said.

"Does it bother you seeing it? Or...?" His wrist clicked as he rolled his hand around in a flashy manner.

Cat shook her head with a smirk. "No... But... It's rare to see it. Every time I die and come back, nothing changes, and everything resets to the way it was, so the same should be said for my hair. But I guess... It's a little different now. And I'm not sure how to feel about it."

"Change is only natural," Maison continued, while running his hand through his own silver hair. "I guess that means that your own body will age, even if it's a much slower process compared to a normal human's."

"Maybe..." Cat paused before shrugging. "It is what it is, I guess."

[a-trying-writer]

(panic attack - fom)

At any other day, seeing the farmer running to and fro around town is just a regular day. But something about seeing her standing so quietly before Wheedle's booth felt off.

Even when he snapped his fingers over her head, she didn't seem phased by it, instead, all Lluvia did, was breathe heavily, almost shakily, while staring at nothing in particular. Realizing that something was wrong, Wheedle walked around the clothed table between them to grab her by her shoulders to force her to walk with him. Once they had stopped next to the river that flowed at the eastern part of Mistria, he leaned closer to her to whisper, "Want something to take the edge off?"

She blinked, before turning to him with an unreadable expression. "H-huh?"

Without letting the farmer go, Wheedle used one hand to fetch something from within his pocket. A small paper tube with a special plant within it. "This will calm you down, Lluvia."

"No... Thanks..." she replied with a shake of her head.

"Your loss." He then tucked it back into his pocket. "So, now that I got your attention, what got you bothered?"

Lluvia said nothing, as she wrapped her arms around his waist, and held the fabric of his rather expensive suit in a tight grip.

Because of this unexpected hug, Wheedle took a look around to see if anyone was watching them, before embracing her in return, allowing her to settle down in his arms. He isn't exactly an affectionate man, finding comfort in a shiny coin, over the company of another person, but Lluvia is an exception. Sort of. While their relationship runs purely on "something for something", they had accepted the fact that they saw each other as friends, since it's the closest word they have to describe each other.

"S-sorry," Lluvia spoke, her voice muffled due to smothering her face against his chest. Thanks to how strong his cologne is, it helped ground her, along with his warmth. "I... Was dealing with some intrusive thoughts."

"How unlike you. I've seen you take on people twice your size! I wouldn't think that your own head would be your enemy." Wheedle clicked his tongue in disappointment.

Lluvia scoffed out a laugh. Though she still felt a rush of adrenaline through her body, she was able to calm down enough that she didn't need to hug him anymore, so they let each other go. "Thanks. For helping me."

"You can repay me later, my violet-haired friend," he returned, as he patted her head, before walking back to his booth with her.

[a-trying-writer]

(vent bit. Making Lluvia suffer as well.)

Despite all she wanted to do, the sharp pain in Lluvia's abdomen forced her to rest. She hated being helpless. But the pain felt borderline unbearable to deal with if she didn't take a break.

As she took a sip of her tea, and enjoyed the company of her feline companion, Lluvia thought back on the many times she had to stop due to the pain. She was almost always alone, crying from it, wanting to dig into her abdomen and rip out the cause of her discomfort out.

Unfortunately, she also wanted to live.

While she has no solution to her problem, she could only try her best to get through it, little by little. Alone or not, Lluvia must try to be strong.

Because it will pass. It always does.

[a-trying-writer]

(pain. Lluvia.)

Resting wasn't something Lluvia wanted to do, but the incredible amount of pain she was in due to her abdomen forced her to do so.

As she tried to enjoy a nice cup of tea, while being accompanied by her feline companion, she reflected back on the previous times she had been through this before. Each one was just as bad, if not worse, than how she felt now.

Each time, she was alone. Crying. Wanting to dig into her abdomen, just to rip out the cause of her distress.

Unfortunately, she also wanted to live.

She could cry, complain, and yell about it, but she will still hold strong.

Because, just like many times before, this pain will soon be behind her. All Lluvia needed to do was power through it. Take it one day at a time. She will get through it.

[a-trying-writer]

(a distant melody) -- Lluvia)

The sound of a guiro being played echoed in Lluvia's ears. It was much too far to tell where it was coming from, but it brought back memories of her home, and in turn, the pain of being bound to a legacy.

She could feel her mother's eyes on her back, as she watched her eldest daughter's every move. Every action, every word, every step.

And though they did care for each other, their relationship only grew sour over the years.

Despite all that was done, Lluvia could hear the music that brought some comfort to her. And though it has been far too long, she could still dance to that distant melody, as if she never had stopped. And for the briefest of moments, she could see a different life before her.

A life with a husband, children, and riches beyond her wildest dreams.

Nothing that she truly wanted.

But she did find herself longing to dance again with her ex-fiance... Perhaps one day, she could, with someone that knew how to follow her steps just like he did.

But she highly doubt it... Despite how long it's been since, Lluvia hasn't found the right dance partner. Perhaps it's for the best. After all, she has to work hard to live through each day.

There is simply no time for a love life...

[a-trying-writer]

(one sided conversation.)

Partially out of boredom, partially testing it, Lluvia kept swinging the club she had made. The whoosh it made was satisfying to her ears, but it doesn't mean anything if it can't be reliable enough to save her life.

"Meow..." Buddy called out, while sitting on a marble bench.

A heavy sigh left Lluvia as she lowered her make shift weapon. "Yeah, you're right... It's not as reliable as a sword..."

"Meow."

"No, it's not as bad as you think. I mean, yeah, it's risky, but I'm still alive."

"Mew..."

"I know, I know... But I haven't given up yet."

Buddy then rolled onto his back, before purring loudly and clawed at the air. "Meow..."

Lluvia scoffed as she dropped the club then approached him. "Fine... What do you want to eat?"

Her feline companion stared at her quietly for a moment with his large round eyes. It brought a smile to the farmer's face as she picked him up to kiss his forehead.

"I don't mind fishing up something fresh... Let's go, little buddy."

With a gleeful meow, Buddy nuzzled against his purple haired owner.

[a-trying-writer]

(namesake a short fic.)

As heavy rain poured, Lluvia decided to let herself finally catch a break, and sit underneath the gazebo she had built. With her black and gold spotted cat as her only companion, she took the time to savor the flavor of the fresh cup of tea she has brewed, and rest. "Lluvia," she whispered to the cat, as a roundabout way of talking to herself. "My parents named me that... I guess it's funny that with a name that means rain, I would be a farmer... Hm."

[a-trying-writer]

(original story - rough draft.)

The rumbling of metal woke up Derek from a deep slumber. As he opened his eyes, he noticed how heavy his body felt, and how his mind was all but clear -- as if he took a bit too much drugs the night before. He dread to face the morning sun, until he realized the only thing that was lit up, was the bright orange light above a large door before him.

Hidden in the darkness, built in the corner of the wall was a single camera, focused entirely on him.

Derek slowly stood up, then quickly shielded his eyes as a bright light immediately flickered on. It took him a moment for his eyes to adjust to the sudden change, until it started to dim, and he could lower his hands. As he took a look around, he noticed that the room was empty. No bed, no window; just empty.

He then walked towards the door to see if there was something that he needed to press, only for it to open up immediately, and a short hallway was revealed to him. From beyond, he could smell something... delicious? Odd.

Confused, and a little nervous, he stumbled his way forward to reach the end of the hallway, and jumped when the door shut behind him with a loud thud. Was this some sort of joke, he thought. Someone must had been pranking him... but his friends wouldn't do that to him. Maybe.

With only one way forward, Derek reached the door at the end. As it slowly opened, he saw the sight of a long table, with all sorts of food on display. From dinner to desserts, Derek was in awe.

"Oh, we got another guest with us," spoke up a man that tore his attention away from the display. He was slightly taller than Derek, and leaner too. His dark hair looked as if it was recently cut, framing his angular, fair skinned, face.

Derek wasn't sure, but the way his dark almond eyes stared him felt too... cold, despite his smile.

"... Us?" he repeated, before taking a look around and saw several other people sitting at the table. All of them seem to be regular people, just like him, which brought more questions. "What's... what's going on?" he asked, almost scared to say, as if he wouldn't like the answer to it.

"Dinner," it seems, spoke up the other man. "Name's Lu. And before you ask -- we all just woke up not too long before you."

Lu turned away from Derek, which he couldn't help but think as if Lu was looking for someone in this room. Whoever it was, they weren't here.

"What's actually going on, well..." Lu then turned back to Derek with his impassive smile. "We don't really know. For now."

Before he could ask any further questions, the sound of a metal door opening drew everyone's eyes towards it. From behind, a petite person walked out.

Their grey hoodie and matching sweatpants hid any distinct features to tell what their gender was. A black beanie sat low on their head, as if hiding some of their face. They said nothing as they took at the table, then to everyone else, before turning away quietly, obviously disinterested.

"H-hey!" Derek shout out, but the person walked away towards the end of the room, and opened a door to leave, surprising everyone.

While them leaving caused an uproar, Lu -- and some other guests -- didn't seem shocked.

Unable to help himself, Derek hurried to chase after the person, only to be stopped, when a large figure entered the room where they left. All of a sudden, the room went cold, and anyone that was eating stopped and dropped their utensils to face the giant.

In his hand was a large butcher knife, and within a split second, blood covered some part of the table.

Lu didn't catch when the blood was thrown, but it certainly dug deep in Derek's head. He was almost impressed. Almost.

[a-trying-writer]

Stupid OCD.

As I lay me down to sleep,

I see the cracks in the ceiling.

From 11 to 1,

I think of blood and open wrists.

Once I shut my eyes,

All I can think of is the silver sheen of scissors.

How easy it is to pick up a blade.

How difficult it is to ease my racing heart.

But there is a difference between intent and fear.

I just wish it was easier to breathe.

[a-trying-writer]

(short srhk story)

Thick red liquid and pieces of a man's body covered the floor and walls, as well as the walking drone that tore through him. Racter inhaled cigarette smoke deep into his lungs as he leaned against a much cleaner part of the wall, planning on what to do next. He could upgrade Koschei, make his reaction time much quicker, but perhaps it would be better to work on the machine gun within him instead.

So many ideas, so many possibilities...

But when the sound of a woman's scream interrupted his train of thought, Racter decided that he should leave as soon as possible to not attract the attention of authorities. After all, he wouldn't be able to find ways to achieve his goal of transhumanism behind bars.

[a-trying-writer]

(rt short)

Blood and gore, the result from another battle. Faust felt heavy, her entire body aching, screaming for her to stop. So she did, by letting herself collapse into the ground, covered in viscous. She turned to lay on her back, to stare at the sky with her one eye. If she hadn't decided to follow her father, would her life be different? Would she have followed the path of the Omnissiah, and turned her flesh into metal? As she shut her eye, the mental image of a flower made of metal blossoming in her empty socket nearly brought a smile to her lips.

Only for it to cut short when her Seneschal called out to her.

Perhaps Faust should get an augment for her missing eye. But for some reason, she didn't feel ready for it. Not yet.

[a-trying-writer]

Crisp air. Chilly winds. I could smell the fruits of autumn, while my perspective shifts from current to childhood. I remember the bright blue sky turning dark, as the sun set over the horizon, with its rays painting the area around it orange. I was looking at it through the branches of the dark green leaves and hanging fruits. Beneath my feet was the unfinished paved ground of the back yard, where the trampoline was. Vague memories of a time that I was ignorant of the world. A bittersweet memory, that tasted like grapefruit.

[a-trying-writer]

(a fanfic. Testing myself again to see if I can work without names or dialogue.)

Crimson eyes illuminated the basement, while the sound of the clicking keyboard could only be heard. Commands on top of more commands fill the dimly lit screen, shortly before vanishing after being saved.

Cigarette smoke disappeared into the air as a USB drive was unplugged, only to be inserted into the metal body of a killing drone.

With the bracer now in hand, it took one click to lift up a limb with a sharp silver blade attached, then another to stab the floor, leaving a dent behind. He moved smoothly and silently, which is exactly what he wanted. With a few more commands, the drone skittered across the basement with incredible agility, then stopped before his creator with a screech.

Pride swelled in his heart, but he knew that it was one thing to test the drone's capability. If he wanted to really know how far they have come, they would need to be in the field again. Something that he can only request to be done with a friend's support. And knowing her, even she would like to see the results.

[a-trying-writer]

(A separate short inspired by something. )

Perhaps this isn't the right place or time, but I couldn't help but be one with you. To feel your skin on mine, and forget about the world outside from you and I. You hesitate, but I could see the want in your eyes. It takes some coaxing for your true feelings to come out, and I can't help but be amused when you seem taken aback by my requests. But you never once denied me. You always find a way to indulge me, and in turn, let yourself be indulged. I don't want you to fall back to your old ways.

So let's be together, until our time comes when we have to separate in our old age. Let me love you, like how you always wanted to be loved. In turn, I only want to see you smile.

[a-trying-writer]

Poem

Copper filled my mouth, as I stared at that invisible horizon.

I made a few mistakes, I admit.

I want to say I didn't think this would happen but, I'd be lying.

But I'll never comply to your ideal version of me.

[a-trying-writer]

I still keep the cloth you gave me over my breast, where my heart beats. I stand by you, with the knife that has never betrayed me, ready to shed blood. I want to kneel before you, even when you kick me, so I can represent my admiration.

For every petty reason, I will hunt for you. For every curse, I will reply.

May we be bound forever and ever, as I follow you to the ends of earth and time.

[a-trying-writer]

(original wip)

It's another rainy night, which was rather unfortunate. David wanted to take Sophia out on a date to make up for the last time he couldn't make it happen. Work has been unexpectedly busy, with his boss always hounding him for schematics and updates on the upcoming project.

At least she didn't mind the change of plans, given how comfortable she seemed, relaxing on the king sized bed in his apartment.

As he made his way around the bed, David looked over at Sophia, taking notice of the scars on her body. Despite being thirty, her hair is already grey, making her seem older than she appeared to be.

"Stress and overworking myself really did a number to my hair," she tends to say, with that smirk on her face.

David couldn't really disagree with that, feeling as if he has been growing grey hair himself during his time working in the company, but at least he still has them, and his natural black color. He has always been proud of his good looks.

But good looks can only get so far, he thought, as he picked up the half empty wine glass on the bedside table next to Sophia. He didn't get this far without shedding some sweat and tears in the past, and with some blood that didn't directly come from him, nor was his at all.

Speaking of blood, he would need to get in touch with James. Sophia has recently met him to update him about the shipment coming in, and David couldn't help but notice some of the names on the list of mercenaries he has hired. While Sophia has been reliable to send off to some missions, he needs a reliable hacker to break into a rival company. It's a cutthroat business after all.