THE MASTER KEY

|| Victor Huxley || SHSL Discus Thrower || Semi-Selective || Multiship

[lowflyinghazard-blog]

A Smoke Filled Room { OPEN }

[shslpingpongdragon]

Ryou Akiyama seemed to amble down the hall, though he clearly knew where he was headed.  His hand came up to his mouth to stifle a yawn.  Even though he was normally awake at this hour, he was rarely out and about.  His practice for an upcoming tournament had ran late by mistake, so he had to either stay all night at the gym, or walk back to his dorm when he would normally be relaxing.  Given midnight was a significant ways off, the choice had been obvious.

However, just because it wasn’t incredibly late, didn’t mean that Ryou had been expecting to see anyone else out in the halls.  While he was surprised to see the other student walking, he had altered his path slightly so they wouldn’t collide.  But, that didn’t come to pass.  The other hall goer veered into him suddenly.  The strong-looking student, ramming into the really-only-strong-in-his-arms Ryou, naturally knocked him into the wall, despite how brief the contact was.

And then the other had the audacity to tell him to get out of the way?  At any other time of day, Ryou might’ve recognized the apparent weariness in the other’s voice and been more understanding.  However, that wasn’t the case now.

“Well, I might’ve, if you knew which way you were going.”

He glared for a couple seconds, but then his face softened slightly.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you around here…you new?  Are you lost?”

[lowflyinghazard-blog]

Turning his head to deflect the other’s harshness, he stared away, ashamed like a hound being scolded, hands in his pockets. He swayed slightly, uneasy on the false limb, only glancing up at Ryou for mere moments at a time.

Registering the question, difficult in his exhaustion, it took him a few moments to chew out an answer.

❝ ... No, I’ve been here for a while. I’m just usually across in that little bungalow over by the sports field, y’know? ❞

For a moment or two, he was too tired to continue, or explain further, or even move, he only stared, passive and depressed, until a sigh rattled his frame and he looked up at Ryou, meeting his gaze.

❝ Look, mate, I’m just- I’ve been in hospital for most of the past few months, I’m feeling a little dazed. I’ve had a long day, you’ve had a long day, could you tell me where reception is? I’ve been walking in circles for the past half hour. ❞

[lowflyinghazard-blog]

Hey, Hus. When the adventurer lost his comb, I told him he might have lost it in a brush with danger! But he found it soon enough, so he didn't have to split hairs to find it.

❝ ... Y’haven’t exactly caught me in a punny mood. Might wanna brush up on your jokes, though they’re not comb-pletely awful. ❞

[lowflyinghazard-blog]

Hey, for the open, about what time is it? Like, late at night, really late at night?

About 10-11PM ish, a Night Dog

[lowflyinghazard-blog]

A Smoke Filled Room { OPEN }

Striding, hurried but not hasty, with a bouncing limp from a new limb that’s still strange to him. His hair is pulled away but only further obscures his face, darkened, clifflike, by hollow cheeks and a scowling brow.

The stranger is on an aimless amble, an evening quest for the front desk, where he will collect his luggage, collect the keys to his home, where he will retreat to his bed, where he will dissolve into his sleep.

Tonight, he will dream of nothing, for he will have it no other way.

The arrhythmic click-thud of his footfalls echoed throughout the corridors. Victor Huxley swayed as he walked, zigzagging like a drunkard, inebriated by the nonsense he’d made of his thoughts.

He was freshly released, freed from sanctuary, back into the school.

Ludovic wasn’t holding up well. Genevieve wouldn’t even talk.

Vivien was missing.

Veering sideways, blown by a sudden gale of unease, he slammed briefly but roughly into a student walking the opposite direction. Momentarily, he was knocked off his already ill-mapped course, stumbling on the unfamiliar leg that still itched with the ghost of the previous limb.

Frustration boiled within him, but the energy to act upon it wasn’t with him. All the athlete had to offer, devoid of depth or effort, was a weak grumble of;

❝ Get out of the damn way. ❞

[lowflyinghazard-blog]

now , to watch the replies come rolling nowhere

[lowflyinghazard-blog]

A Smoke Filled Room { OPEN }

Striding, hurried but not hasty, with a bouncing limp from a new limb that’s still strange to him. His hair is pulled away but only further obscures his face, darkened, clifflike, by hollow cheeks and a scowling brow.

The stranger is on an aimless amble, an evening quest for the front desk, where he will collect his luggage, collect the keys to his home, where he will retreat to his bed, where he will dissolve into his sleep.

Tonight, he will dream of nothing, for he will have it no other way.

The arrhythmic click-thud of his footfalls echoed throughout the corridors. Victor Huxley swayed as he walked, zigzagging like a drunkard, inebriated by the nonsense he’d made of his thoughts.

He was freshly released, freed from sanctuary, back into the school.

Ludovic wasn’t holding up well. Genevieve wouldn’t even talk.

Vivien was missing.

Veering sideways, blown by a sudden gale of unease, he slammed briefly but roughly into a student walking the opposite direction. Momentarily, he was knocked off his already ill-mapped course, stumbling on the unfamiliar leg that still itched with the ghost of the previous limb.

Frustration boiled within him, but the energy to act upon it wasn’t with him. All the athlete had to offer, devoid of depth or effort, was a weak grumble of;

❝ Get out of the damn way. ❞

[lowflyinghazard-blog]

also i’m thinking of changing the url

the problem is . all i have i ‘hxppyfamilies’ and ‘incomplete-athlete’ and both of those suck

[lowflyinghazard-blog]

ok the starter is written, and it’s LOOKING GOOD

but for now it is drafted! until i sort some stuff out. music mainly. gotta gotta practice 4 tomorrow

[lowflyinghazard-blog]

i should write a . starter

nnnnnnnnahhhhh

[yua-himura]

SAME DOG

[lowflyinghazard-blog]

[ squints] what is that horrible creature

[shslbird-brain]

Hiruto took her thoughts back immediately at that clear statement, looks like she’d been the insensitive one here after all.

”N-no-!  The bathroom is unsanitary and you are getting a bucket!  Stay right there, I’ll fetch one immediately!”

Without hesitation, Hiruto backed out of the room urgently-  Even hitting her hip against the door frame in the process.  The pain didn’t start to ripple until she’d come back, hurling an empty bucket to the floor before hastily propping it back upright.

Somehow, all that panic had really taken it out on her-  And surely there would be some sickly, dappled bruise of pinks, greens and blues waiting to greet her later.  But overall, the most sickliest feeling lingering at present was overall the disappointment in herself.  It stirred a faint, emotional pain inside of her.  Comparing it with the bruise from moments ago, it felt ever-so much, much more severe.

”A-ah, I…  I am a fool!  I-  I thought it was the right thing, I…  I’m so sorry, Victor-”

Hiruto trailed off with a shaky exhale, the right words and apologies lulled on her tongue-  But she just couldn’t make them out properly to seem genuine enough, especially after forcing him to be sick…  Unintentionally, even!

[lowflyinghazard-blog]

Clutching the bucket to his shaking body, he heaved, lurched, and, with a horrid racket of retching, he emptied the emptiness of his stomach into the bucket in a burning flood of orange bile. His skin, ashen and clammy and claylike, almost corpselike, had paled.

Long moments passed and he seemed very fragile, as if he'd shatter under her touch, tears rolling down his cheeks as he caressed the aching pit of his stomach through the sickening fat of his belly, a tender touch to his most hated area.

But Hiruto stood above him like a mother bird, a godess, with a mean purple bruise forming on her hip, and he was overwhelmed with guilt, and he was, once more, the weak-willed, apologetic Victor Huxley he used to be.

"No, no, Hiruto, dear, it's okay, it's okay, you were only trying your best- that's that's a- a nasty bruise, you- you sh- you should- put some- I don't know, ice on it- or- put some ice on it, or some meat- meat helps bruises, r- right? I- I don't know, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."

He tried to support himself on his own two left feet, but found himself unable, weak and useless, only able to perform the pitiful act of pushing the bucket aside, disgusted at himself, before hugging his knees to his chest and staring helplessly up at her with tearful, sunken eyes and a damp, hollow face.

[rpmememaker]

Insult my muse!

"Hey, fuckwit, watch where you’re going."

"You’re a sham!"

"You’re an asshole, you know that?"

"You didn’t get to that size with salads, lardass."

"You’re uglier than a mule’s ass."

"I’ve seen blobfish cuter than you!"

"Not the sharpest knife in the drawer, are you?"

"You’re the biggest fucking chocolate fireguard I’ve ever met!"

"You’re about as bright as a blacked-out flashlight."

"Your IQ is so low you have to dig for it."

"You’re as useless as rubber lips on a woodpecker."

"Breathe the other way. You’re giving me split ends."

"We should hang you and kiss the mistletoe."

"Darling, you look like a million years."

"How far do you have to bend over until you see your feet?"

"Is your nose… supposed to look like that?"

"What, are you going to crawl under a rock?"

"I’ve seen snails with more spine."

[lowflyinghazard-blog]

■ latE as hella but,, hirut again w KEYE

"Dumb shitty lady doesn't know who the hell she's caring for. A dumb fuck of a man who's more lard than lad is who she's caring for. I'd pity her if I didn't wanna cut her all up so bad."

[lowflyinghazard-blog]

■ hus on keye, keye on hus

"He's a fucking monster."

"And he's a fucking wimp!"

[lowflyinghazard-blog]

■ nice hirut nice hirut

Hus is silent for a while, staring at his feet, before shrugging.

"She's too good to me. Christ. Worries too much."

[lowflyinghazard-blog]

■ Long time no see His, have a Makoot

"A bit of a tart, wasn't she?"

Hus snorts, sipping slowly from the side of his glass.

"Wanna see her try to cheer me up after this."